Fourth Period: Art - Chalk, Paint, Paper, Brush, Oil, Clay, Sketch
I'll make sure that I have period five up tonight. All I have left is the icons for that, so here we go. All of the period four icons and drabbles. I hope you enjoy.
By the way, the one for Oil is supposed to look as though its drawn in oil pastels... I don't know that it succeeded, but that was the goal.
a. Chalk
b. Paint
c. Paper
d. Brush
e. Oil
f. Clay
g. Sketch
And here come the drabbles. I hope you all enjoy them. I worked hard on them last night.
a. Chalk
She was so pale. Though they'd broken up, he still cared. He still loved her, treasured her above all others. She was the first thing he thought of each morning, the last thing he thought of each night.
Seeing her like that, so weak and helpless, caused him more pain than anything else ever had. More even than the loss of his parents. At least he couldn't recall them as clearly as he could recall every moment with his Usako.
He leaned down, taking one of her chalk white hands in his and bent over. Perhaps this was like a fairy tale. Perhaps true love's kiss would waken her.
After all, she was a princess and he was her prince.
WORD COUNT: 120
b. Paint
Mamoru had never been a fan of make-up on females. He had never understood the purpose. Why would a woman hide her true beauty in order to enhance it? It had bothered him, even as a child. He would watch his mother paint her face with colors that had never looked quite right on her face. It was one of the only things he recalled of his mother, and he wasn't even sure if that memory was real or something he'd concocted in the loneliness of his youth.
One of the things he'd always loved about Usako was that she never bothered with make-up. And she was so beautiful natural.
He never wanted to see her painted up.
WORD COUNT: 118
c. Paper
She was amazed at the news. Giant craters appearing where a school had once been went virtually unnoticed. Faces appearing out of nowhere in the sky went unannounced the following day. It was as though no one wanted to acknowledge the things that she couldn't avoid.
Years later, she was amazed at the news. She was twenty-one and ready to marry the only man she'd ever truly loved. And there they were, their names and a short history.
Printed in the paper for the world to see.
Yes, Usagi was amazed at the news. Bad things went unnoticed by everyone but her, yet they all tried to share in her joy.
WORD COUNT: 118
d. Brush
He loved how predictable his Usako's hair always was. It never deviated from the same style, except at night when she showered and every morning when she styled it for the new day. Not that he knew this from experience of course. He knew this only because she'd told him that those were the only times she took her hair out of its signature odango.
He often imagined her hair down, out of the odango. He imagined playing with her long blonde tresses. He imagined running a brush through the golden locks.
He longed for the day when those scenes from his imagination would become a reality.
WORD COUNT: 107
e. Oil
She had never given much thought to Chiba Mamoru. He was attractive, but he was annoying. He always seemed to think that he knew everything in the world. Despite his beautiful blue eyes and his dark hair, despite how much he resembled the stereotypical perfect man. Tall, dark, and handsome. Usagi was not attracted to him.
She could tell herself this every day, every waking minute.
But she couldn't take her eyes off of the oil painting of the two of them.
WORD COUNT: 82
f. Clay
Sometimes, he sat so still that she thought he was carved from marble. His only movements would be to turn the page of whatever book he was reading. She couldn't take her eyes off of him in those moments. He had such concentration, such amazing will power. He barely batted an eyelash as he read.
Usagi envied him in those moments. Because she could never sit that still. She could never read that intently or focus that hard on anything, even if it were for the best. She longed for that ability, but it was never granted to her. Unlike many of her wishes, that was one that just never seemed to come true.
But she knew that she was still being molded. She was young. The clay that created her personality had yet to truly set, yet to truly harden.
Maybe one day, she'd be made of marble the way he was.
WORD COUNT: 153
g. Sketch
Usagi knew she was not an artist. Her skill ended with stick figures. She remembered when Ann teased her for her drawings of her history with Mamo-chan, when she was trying to get him to remember their history. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago. Tokyo of the past had left. She'd nearly shed her true name. Only a few people called her Usagi anymore. Only her closest friends and Mamo-chan. To the rest of the world, she was Neo-Queen Serenity.
As the queen, she was able to have artists surround her. Some tried to teach her, tried to make their queen better at something she'd always wished she could do. But no one succeeded.
Yet Mamoru saved each of these drawings. He kept each of her attempts in a gallery in the palace. To him, those sketches were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Only because his queen had put her heart into each of those sketches.
And he treasured that heart above all else.
WORD COUNT: 171
By the way, the one for Oil is supposed to look as though its drawn in oil pastels... I don't know that it succeeded, but that was the goal.
a. Chalk
b. Paint
c. Paper
d. Brush
e. Oil
f. Clay
g. Sketch
And here come the drabbles. I hope you all enjoy them. I worked hard on them last night.
a. Chalk
She was so pale. Though they'd broken up, he still cared. He still loved her, treasured her above all others. She was the first thing he thought of each morning, the last thing he thought of each night.
Seeing her like that, so weak and helpless, caused him more pain than anything else ever had. More even than the loss of his parents. At least he couldn't recall them as clearly as he could recall every moment with his Usako.
He leaned down, taking one of her chalk white hands in his and bent over. Perhaps this was like a fairy tale. Perhaps true love's kiss would waken her.
After all, she was a princess and he was her prince.
WORD COUNT: 120
b. Paint
Mamoru had never been a fan of make-up on females. He had never understood the purpose. Why would a woman hide her true beauty in order to enhance it? It had bothered him, even as a child. He would watch his mother paint her face with colors that had never looked quite right on her face. It was one of the only things he recalled of his mother, and he wasn't even sure if that memory was real or something he'd concocted in the loneliness of his youth.
One of the things he'd always loved about Usako was that she never bothered with make-up. And she was so beautiful natural.
He never wanted to see her painted up.
WORD COUNT: 118
c. Paper
She was amazed at the news. Giant craters appearing where a school had once been went virtually unnoticed. Faces appearing out of nowhere in the sky went unannounced the following day. It was as though no one wanted to acknowledge the things that she couldn't avoid.
Years later, she was amazed at the news. She was twenty-one and ready to marry the only man she'd ever truly loved. And there they were, their names and a short history.
Printed in the paper for the world to see.
Yes, Usagi was amazed at the news. Bad things went unnoticed by everyone but her, yet they all tried to share in her joy.
WORD COUNT: 118
d. Brush
He loved how predictable his Usako's hair always was. It never deviated from the same style, except at night when she showered and every morning when she styled it for the new day. Not that he knew this from experience of course. He knew this only because she'd told him that those were the only times she took her hair out of its signature odango.
He often imagined her hair down, out of the odango. He imagined playing with her long blonde tresses. He imagined running a brush through the golden locks.
He longed for the day when those scenes from his imagination would become a reality.
WORD COUNT: 107
e. Oil
She had never given much thought to Chiba Mamoru. He was attractive, but he was annoying. He always seemed to think that he knew everything in the world. Despite his beautiful blue eyes and his dark hair, despite how much he resembled the stereotypical perfect man. Tall, dark, and handsome. Usagi was not attracted to him.
She could tell herself this every day, every waking minute.
But she couldn't take her eyes off of the oil painting of the two of them.
WORD COUNT: 82
f. Clay
Sometimes, he sat so still that she thought he was carved from marble. His only movements would be to turn the page of whatever book he was reading. She couldn't take her eyes off of him in those moments. He had such concentration, such amazing will power. He barely batted an eyelash as he read.
Usagi envied him in those moments. Because she could never sit that still. She could never read that intently or focus that hard on anything, even if it were for the best. She longed for that ability, but it was never granted to her. Unlike many of her wishes, that was one that just never seemed to come true.
But she knew that she was still being molded. She was young. The clay that created her personality had yet to truly set, yet to truly harden.
Maybe one day, she'd be made of marble the way he was.
WORD COUNT: 153
g. Sketch
Usagi knew she was not an artist. Her skill ended with stick figures. She remembered when Ann teased her for her drawings of her history with Mamo-chan, when she was trying to get him to remember their history. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago. Tokyo of the past had left. She'd nearly shed her true name. Only a few people called her Usagi anymore. Only her closest friends and Mamo-chan. To the rest of the world, she was Neo-Queen Serenity.
As the queen, she was able to have artists surround her. Some tried to teach her, tried to make their queen better at something she'd always wished she could do. But no one succeeded.
Yet Mamoru saved each of these drawings. He kept each of her attempts in a gallery in the palace. To him, those sketches were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Only because his queen had put her heart into each of those sketches.
And he treasured that heart above all else.
WORD COUNT: 171