Altaïr ibn La-Ahad (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theflyingone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-05-11 08:45 pm
theflyingone) wrote in thecapitol2015-05-11 08:45 pm
Entry tags:
And that is why you remain a novice
Who| Altaïr ibn La-Ahad and anyone vaguely interested in drawing
What| DRAWING/teaching drawing if asked
Where| Central Commons, maybe also D11 floor or the roof
When| may 11-14 perhaps?
Warnings/Notes| Assassins drawing flowers
He was reluctant to demonstrate even the most unassuming skill in front of these "cameras" he'd been warned about, especially since he promised someone he'd draw something else of a much more rebellious nature. But there were new drawing tools in this strange land, and he felt obligated to at least try them out in his downtime. Even an overachiever like him knew he couldn't leap across roofs tracking Peacekeeper patrol routes with no rest for his limbs. In a few hours he might sleep or scout the city again.
He procured some pieces of paper and idly drew lines in various types of pens. Ballpoint didn't do justice to the curling forms of the birds or plants he made. But that was why he purchased some ink and a few dried reeds from a flower-arranging shop. He cut them into flat-nibbed pens with knives in the kitchen (and reluctantly put the knives back).
With calloused hands he sketched and inked without intent, which was unlike him. He always did things with a purpose, but at least this was better than sitting in a corner lamenting his captivity. He drew animals, plants, and random decorative motifs. He very carefully avoided drawing people, fearing the faces of those he knew at home might show up in them.
What| DRAWING/teaching drawing if asked
Where| Central Commons, maybe also D11 floor or the roof
When| may 11-14 perhaps?
Warnings/Notes| Assassins drawing flowers
He was reluctant to demonstrate even the most unassuming skill in front of these "cameras" he'd been warned about, especially since he promised someone he'd draw something else of a much more rebellious nature. But there were new drawing tools in this strange land, and he felt obligated to at least try them out in his downtime. Even an overachiever like him knew he couldn't leap across roofs tracking Peacekeeper patrol routes with no rest for his limbs. In a few hours he might sleep or scout the city again.
He procured some pieces of paper and idly drew lines in various types of pens. Ballpoint didn't do justice to the curling forms of the birds or plants he made. But that was why he purchased some ink and a few dried reeds from a flower-arranging shop. He cut them into flat-nibbed pens with knives in the kitchen (and reluctantly put the knives back).
With calloused hands he sketched and inked without intent, which was unlike him. He always did things with a purpose, but at least this was better than sitting in a corner lamenting his captivity. He drew animals, plants, and random decorative motifs. He very carefully avoided drawing people, fearing the faces of those he knew at home might show up in them.
no subject
"Yes. I'm curious. It smells like something familiar."
no subject
It's more like a little under a minute, for he's gone to the trouble of not just filling a mug with coffee but tossing a few little packets of chilled cream and the sugar bowl and a spoon onto a tray. It's that he brings back out and sets upon the table, and he then retreats to a nearby chair to sip at his own coffee. "Some people like it black, but I think it's better with some sugar." It's up to him what he does with his. It's very good coffee, whatever the case. The Capitol spares little expense.
no subject
"I have definitely seen this before. A bean roasted.... Why would anyone put sugar in it?" he wondered more to himself than to Haruto. If he recalled correctly, coffee was ground, put in water, and taken black. "Sugar is so costly..."
Honey was the usual sweetener where he came from, since sugarcane required so much water and labor-intensive processing. He left the packets untouched and took a sip. He did not have a refined taste for coffee, it being somewhat rare. It tasted more bitter and burnt than it smelled.
"Interesting. You drink it regularly?"
no subject
He takes another swig of his own coffee, and nods. "Maybe a little too regularly. It's addictive. You miss it when you can't get a cup. One of the worst parts about the arenas." He grins as he says it, and stifles something of a laugh. The pain and the suffering and the dying are the actual worst parts, but you're not supposed to admit these things too loudly.