pre RAT's Story
timeframe : 1255
Rating : G
The sound of her footsteps in the garden had become so familiar to him he did not even need to look to know it was Lyssa that approached. She seated herself beside him with her typical lack of regard for personal space. Rune found he was growing accustomed to that as well. Her chin came to rest on his shoulder as she eyed the sketchbook in his lap.
“Those are lovely,” she commented, eyeing his half completed drawing. She reached out a hand. “May I?”
Rune obliged, handing over the book. He sat back, twirling the stick of charcoal between his fingers as she thumbed through the pages.
“Are these all from the garden?” He nodded. “I can’t wait to see what it looks like in the spring,” she mused, pausing to admire one of the
sketches. Holding his place with a finger, she made her way through to the front of the book. She returned it to the page he’d been working on, and then, grinning, flipped the page, passing it to him with an empty sheet exposed.
“Draw me,” she said, excitedly. It was more a command than a request.
“I… uh… don’t usually do portraits,” he stammered.
She made an exaggerated show of batting her lashes at him. “Please?”
“I’ll try.”
Lyssa left the bench and reclined on the grass in front of him. After smoothing the wrinkles from her dress and tossing her hair carefully across her shoulders, she fixed him with an expectant smile.
A blank page had never looked so daunting.
He fidgeted with the charcoal and nervously scratched his head, looking from Lyssa to the book and back again. She grinned at him, finally giggling at the prolonged silence. Rune took a deep breath and set the charcoal to the paper. He started with her eyes, hesitantly framing them on the page. He studied them, saw them glinting back at him, deep hazy brown, as she caught the direction of his gaze. He realized he’d never noticed before how incredibly long her lashes were.
He carefully traced the contours of her face, from the high ridges of her cheekbones to the gentle slope of her chin. He sketched her nose and the length of her neck. His eyes fell over her lips as he struggled to place their form on the paper. Usually in constant motion, she held herself so still for him he imagined he could perceive each breath as it flowed from her mouth. He filled out the soft dark curves, gnawing at his own lip as he did so. There was a tugging at the corners of her mouth and she gave way to another giggle at the strange tension between them. With broad strokes, he cast her coppery mane loosely about the edges of his picture. At last, he set the charcoal down and paused to inspect the finished work before offering it to her.
Lyssa took the book eagerly from his hands. She studied the picture, blinking those heavy lashes and parting those soft lips he’d just rendered with such difficulty. She turned to him with a look of pleasant surprise.
“Is this what I look like to you?” she asked hesitantly.
He snatched the book back, confused. He would be the first to admit, portraits weren’t his specialty, but he thought it a fair resemblance. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.
“I’m pretty,” she said, folding her arms nervously over her chest before withdrawing one to wind her hand through her own hair. “You made me… pretty.”
“And…?” he said.
“And I’m not… I mean, I’ve never been…” She blushed. “Ski’s the pretty one. I’m…”
Rune stared at her in disbelief. “Have you seen yourself?”
“I’m well aware that I am attractive, if that’s what you mean,” she said. “And I’d be a blind fool not to know you found me so. But there’s a difference between that and pretty… and I never…” Her blush deepened. “Can I keep it?”
He tore the page from the book and handed it to her. “If you wish. It hardly does you justice. If I had more time-”
“I like this just fine,” she said with a smile at the sketch.
Rating : G
The sound of her footsteps in the garden had become so familiar to him he did not even need to look to know it was Lyssa that approached. She seated herself beside him with her typical lack of regard for personal space. Rune found he was growing accustomed to that as well. Her chin came to rest on his shoulder as she eyed the sketchbook in his lap.
“Those are lovely,” she commented, eyeing his half completed drawing. She reached out a hand. “May I?”
Rune obliged, handing over the book. He sat back, twirling the stick of charcoal between his fingers as she thumbed through the pages.
“Are these all from the garden?” He nodded. “I can’t wait to see what it looks like in the spring,” she mused, pausing to admire one of the
sketches. Holding his place with a finger, she made her way through to the front of the book. She returned it to the page he’d been working on, and then, grinning, flipped the page, passing it to him with an empty sheet exposed.
“Draw me,” she said, excitedly. It was more a command than a request.
“I… uh… don’t usually do portraits,” he stammered.
She made an exaggerated show of batting her lashes at him. “Please?”
“I’ll try.”
Lyssa left the bench and reclined on the grass in front of him. After smoothing the wrinkles from her dress and tossing her hair carefully across her shoulders, she fixed him with an expectant smile.
A blank page had never looked so daunting.
He fidgeted with the charcoal and nervously scratched his head, looking from Lyssa to the book and back again. She grinned at him, finally giggling at the prolonged silence. Rune took a deep breath and set the charcoal to the paper. He started with her eyes, hesitantly framing them on the page. He studied them, saw them glinting back at him, deep hazy brown, as she caught the direction of his gaze. He realized he’d never noticed before how incredibly long her lashes were.
He carefully traced the contours of her face, from the high ridges of her cheekbones to the gentle slope of her chin. He sketched her nose and the length of her neck. His eyes fell over her lips as he struggled to place their form on the paper. Usually in constant motion, she held herself so still for him he imagined he could perceive each breath as it flowed from her mouth. He filled out the soft dark curves, gnawing at his own lip as he did so. There was a tugging at the corners of her mouth and she gave way to another giggle at the strange tension between them. With broad strokes, he cast her coppery mane loosely about the edges of his picture. At last, he set the charcoal down and paused to inspect the finished work before offering it to her.
Lyssa took the book eagerly from his hands. She studied the picture, blinking those heavy lashes and parting those soft lips he’d just rendered with such difficulty. She turned to him with a look of pleasant surprise.
“Is this what I look like to you?” she asked hesitantly.
He snatched the book back, confused. He would be the first to admit, portraits weren’t his specialty, but he thought it a fair resemblance. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.
“I’m pretty,” she said, folding her arms nervously over her chest before withdrawing one to wind her hand through her own hair. “You made me… pretty.”
“And…?” he said.
“And I’m not… I mean, I’ve never been…” She blushed. “Ski’s the pretty one. I’m…”
Rune stared at her in disbelief. “Have you seen yourself?”
“I’m well aware that I am attractive, if that’s what you mean,” she said. “And I’d be a blind fool not to know you found me so. But there’s a difference between that and pretty… and I never…” Her blush deepened. “Can I keep it?”
He tore the page from the book and handed it to her. “If you wish. It hardly does you justice. If I had more time-”
“I like this just fine,” she said with a smile at the sketch.