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Post by Imogen Faye Sullivan on Apr 3, 2013 1:53:01 GMT -6
  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -It was nice to be away from everything. The days trapped in campus deteriorated her soul, she felt as though she was suffocating. She needed to be free, needed to be away from the one place that captured her heart and refused to let go with a tightening grip. But he was here. She could feel him. Even as she sat atop the bench, fingers working from memory as they stroked the pages with hues of purple and blue, he remained. It had gotten worse lately. His presence was overwhelming, no matter where she went, he followed. She could only hope painting would ease her troubles, keep the monster at bay. He was persistent, though. He taunted her, his darkness enveloping her rib cage and seeping out her pores. She continued to paint, continued to brush her utensil back and forth, creating an image yet unseen by the world. It was abstract, probably nothing in the eyes of society but it helped calm her. Her nerves, still shaken with anxiety and woe, somewhat eased with the strokes. She tried her best to concentrate on the task at hand, yet the black overcame the light.
Glancing up towards the lake across from her, bright blue hues took in the sights. Imogen closed her eyes briefly before they met the gaze of the sun, she bringing her gaze back down to her paper shortly after. It was unintelligable, even she was perplexed as to the meaning behind it, but she continued. She would continue regardless of the results. She didn't care if it made sense, if it made any sort of impact on the world. It was her only way to vent whatever it was that lurked within her bloodstream, her only way of somewhat silencing whatever demon had crawled into her heart and wreaked havoc on her soul. She persevered harshly, her strokes angered and violent, Imogen striking the paper with a ferocity best left with the anger management patients. She was uncaring of such matters, continuing in such a fashion, poking the paper with her brush, so much so that she even poked holes in the paper. She attempted to hide the spots with a dark black, having grabbed her small bottle of black and dabbed at the torn paper with it. It didn't do much to shield the paper from harm as she could still see its imperfection but fuck it. She poked even more holes in it, attempting to shut her mind off from the gloomy presence lingering about. She felt as if he was sitting on the bench beside her, her eyes narrowing as they cut towards the invisible being. She was so tired of this, so fucking tired.
She could only hope her painting would keep him at bay, it usually helped. But he was unrelenting, she could practically feel him jeering at her. "Fuck you," She mumbled, her features hardening, even more determined to keep on painting. He would not ruin this for her, not this, not the one thing she loved. This was the only thing she had, apart from her thoughts, but he consumed them all; she would not let him take that over too. He had an inane tendency to infiltrate when she was actually enjoying herself, even when it came to souls she was willing to speak with. It seemed when she found someone she enjoyed conversing with, which, believe me, was few and far in between, he found a way to snake his way in, erasing all happy thoughts and leaving her bitter and disheartened. She tried to hope that it wouldn't always be this way, but she knew better. He would always find a way to ruin her, to make her less of a person than she already was. He was strong and he was hungry. He wanted her blood, wanted to see her frame seeping with blood and, particularly, coated with a sense of shame and fear. She prided herself on not giving him the satisfaction but it was hard sometimes; he was just so good. He knew how to ruin an even peaceful moment, knew how to twist her bones into a char coaled mess, ready to sprinkle into dust at the latest provocation. Angered, she poked maniacally at her paper, more holes appearing and, distressed, she crumbled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the nearby trashcan. She grabbed a fresh sheet and began again, this time adding shades of red and yet another form of purple, her brush swishing about shades of red and blue as she hadn't found time to ask a counselor for some purple. She didn't mind, though. She rather liked the dark shade the red and blue provided. It was like a whole new color, different from the purple she had noticed in the store. It was too light, too bubbly; it wouldn't mix well with the dark themes she often liked to paint. Lost in her own world, she was engrossed in her work, her thumb rubbing at an unwanted spot, creating a fingerprint pattern she rather liked, her brow furrowed in the process. Perhaps she would use that more often.
 TAGS . . . chris/pie
WORDS . . . enough
NOTES . . . <3 thread takes place on August 23rd at 12pm.
CREDITS . . . lyrics credit to Attic Attack, template made by Megaru @ Caution 2.0, i take no credit for image.
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Post by Christopher Matthew Evans on Apr 6, 2013 16:24:30 GMT -6
It was a nice day out, which was why Chris was working out at the park. He preferred working out at the park to working out at his and Laura's apartment, or the local gym. It was easier to enjoy working out when he was not cooped up in some small room. The time would come soon enough when the weather got cold and he could not exercise out side, he would enjoy it while he could. The sun was bright, and while he enjoyed it, it made him sweat more. Chris would have liked to work out a bit later in the evening, when the sun would be going down, but he had to work tonight Chris took the time to stretch out his body, knowing how important it was to do so to avoid injuries. . He did one handed pushups, jump squats, lunges, sit ups, walking spider-mans, and more. If anyone was watching him, he probably looked ridiculous, especially doing the walking spider man, it was good for hip flexation and overall flexibility. Standing up he took a few deep breaths, a layer of sweat covered his skin, and soaked his shirt. It wasn't a good workout if he did not break a sweat. Chris still had his run to do before he would call it a day and head home, but decided to take a short break before he did. Walking toward a bench he saw with a young girl on it, his mind wandered. To Ashley. To their meeting the other day. It was part of why Chris was so hell bent on staying active, if he did he did not give himself time to think about seeing his old friend. The awkward conversation they'd had. The feeling he had that he was not sure what to make of, what to do with. Chris sat down on the end of the bench, looking at the girl, and saying, ”Hi, it's a nice day out today, isn't it? Not showing her any of the inner turmoil that was going on in his mind. He was good at being guarded, well, to anyone who did not know him very well. outfit |
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Post by Imogen Faye Sullivan on Apr 9, 2013 17:06:35 GMT -6
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -The fingerprint pattern did work well, Imogen delightfully noticed, rubbing at a few more spots sporadically across the page. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a turquoise color, pouring a bit of it onto the paper and using her brush to twirl it in a circle around the other hues. She didn't quite like how it blended with the red, however, her brush attempting to separate the two colors, pushing the turquoise more against the purple. When it didn't work as well as she would've hoped, she merely dipped her brush into the small plastic container full of black and smeared it between the patch. She then made a flower-ish pattern with a spin of her brush along the black, making the petals long and somewhat macabre, much like a grotesque tree devoid of leaves.
Movement struck out of the corner of her eye, Imogen glancing up to find a young man in the middle of a most embarrassing work out. She could only watch on in amusement, a small smirk curling at the edges of her lips, as she watched him walk across the grass in a rather ridiculous position, one she knew was probably best reserved for exercising at home. He seemed to like the outdoors, however, as he would much rather work out atop the earthy ground than in the midst of a crowded gym or small bedroom; she had to respect him for that. She rather liked the outdoors herself, it brought a sense of calm to her normally wracked, albeit closed off, frame. She got out when she could, fancying taking a stroll every now and then, it was much better than remaining cooped up in the campus, the only time she minded being inside being when she was with Lukas; he was great company. She didn't have to worry about anything with him, they had an unspoken bond of agreement and she'd be remiss to deny she didn't love spending time with him the brilliant sex wasn't a bad bonus either.
Noticing the unfamiliar man coming towards the bench, bright blue hues returned to the page before her, Imogen thinking for a moment before her brush found its familiar way along the stark white background, streaking black against it once more. The wooden end of the brush lingered within the corner of her mouth momentarily before she proceeded to dip it in a dark blue and brushed it against the purple, making an abstract design within the hues. Upon the man's comment about the weather, she remained silent, glancing towards him briefly before nodding. It was a nice day, there was no sense in reiterating his claim, a nod proved her agreement enough. She pressed the inside of her pinky against the black and turquoise colors, wiping the wet paint against the purple as it traveled towards the edge of the paper. She did it once more in the opposite direction, not really bothered with starting a conversation with the man beside her. She didn't know him, though she vaguely remembered seeing him somewhere before, but regardless, she didn't have much to say; small talk had always been something that escaped her.
TAGS . . . chris/pie
WORDS . . . enough
NOTES . . . <3 thread takes place on August 23rd at 12pm.
CREDITS . . . lyrics credit to Attic Attack, template made by Megaru @ Caution 2.0, i take no credit for image.
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