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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 18, 2008 19:49:16 GMT -5
Dare was in his element. He lounged back in one of the cafe's seats, in a table off to the side, out of the way of traffic, long legs extended beneath the table, one foot propped on the bottom rung of the opposite chair. His sketchbook was propped against the edge of the table in front of him, the bottom of the book riding against his abdomen.
On the table beyond the book was his art box, wide open, a tray of chalk pastels and a mug of some rich, sweet-but-smoky smelling coffee drink. Dare was scratching away at the page, bobbing his head on occasion to the mellow music playing in the shop, but mostly drawing. Once in a while, he'd shift the pastels he was holding to his right hand, then retrieve his mug for a long, appreciative drink. It was times like this he couldn't help loving life.
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 18, 2008 19:55:44 GMT -5
Emilian had been to the little cafe back when it had first opened, with its old owner, and so when he had seen it across the street he had decided to come in to see if the drinks were anywhere near as good as they had once been. He went up to the counter and ordered a steamy drink before walking over and sitting at a little two person table next to the window, not sparing so much as a glance for the artist with the strange hair. He never drank coffees or anything of the sort except for the shop, and so he was a tad disappointed to realize that the drink wasn't as good as it had once been.
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 18, 2008 20:01:49 GMT -5
Dare glanced up from his drawing to see that the scene had changed. There was a new subject right in his line of vision, and since he was sitting in front of the window, the entire lighting scheme across the table and the floor had altered. Since Dare was into working light right now, he found the change far more interesting. He took surreptitious, but long look, then switched out some of the colors in his hand and went back to his drawing, sketching in his new subject as well as the fall of shadow.
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 18, 2008 20:07:59 GMT -5
It didn't take long for Emilian to feel the eyes on him, but by the time he glanced over in the direction, the kid with the sketchbook had turned his eyes back to the paper in front of him. Emilian shifted slightly, wrapping his cool hands around the warm drink and looking back out the window, playing it off as a paranoia. And even if it wasn't paranoia, it wasn't any of his business anyway, unless the feeling continued.
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 18, 2008 20:17:34 GMT -5
Dare had plenty of practice with casual observation. He didn't need more than brief, flickering glances for the preliminary sketching of the figure, but as the shape filled out, he began to need more detail, and he took slightly longer risks. He hadn't forgotten Michael's warning about people hexing, but it was easy to forget. The guy's posture didn't speak of relaxed enjoyment so much as hidden tension, and it was those complexities that drew him. So his attention shifted, more of it gradually turning to the figure rather than the shadows.
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 18, 2008 20:27:05 GMT -5
More than once Emilian caught the guy watching him and started planning how he would go up to him. Normally he would just walk out, annoyed, but he also didn't mind messing with people. His lips turned up in a small smirk as he thought, turning his eyes again to catch the kid's eyes on him again. He nodded slightly before looking away again, deciding to wait a minute more before going over to him. Being stared at didn't exactly bother him, but he would at least have a little fun while he was at it.
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 18, 2008 20:32:27 GMT -5
The guy's reactions only made him more interesting to Dare. He'd thought the game was up the first time their eyes met, but the guy hadn't said a word, hadn't glared, nothing. And then his lips had curved into what was unmistakably a smirk. Whether the guy had meant to encourage him or not, Dare was encouraged, or at least intrigued. He had half a mind to get a fresh sheet of paper and do a study, but enough self-control not to. Still, he purposefully took longer glances now, though, for the game of it, he made a practice of looking down at his page the moment he was caught.
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 18, 2008 20:39:39 GMT -5
After another couple of minutes, Emilian stood, walking over to the table where the guy sat. He sat down without asking across the table from him and crossed his legs, leaning back in the chair and holding his drink on the table with one hand. "Enjoying the scenery?" he asked, the smirk still pulling up his cheek, where his scar was finally beginning to loosen up the smallest amount. His eyes gleamed, remembering how Chase had reacted to his teases but under the impression this particular guy wouldn't have the same reactions.
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 18, 2008 20:50:25 GMT -5
Dare's lips crooked into his habitual half-smile, mossy eyes light with humor. "I was," he admitted, "but damned if the scenery doesn't keep changing on me." Not that he could summon regret right now. The guy's face was an artist's dream. The harsh angles of his jaw were balanced by roguishly overlong hair. Vivid blue eyes were tempered by straight brows. And the scar on his cheek...he was beauty and the beast all in one. Dare took all this in with one practiced glance.
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 18, 2008 20:58:06 GMT -5
Emilian himself let his own eyes trail over the guy, unashamed to admit that he was attractive. "It's to be expected when you have a live subject," he said when he met the guy's eyes again. The gleam remained in his eyes. "If you want scenery that doesn't change, I suppose you're just screwed." No matter where someone went to draw or even just look at the scenery, it would change.
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 18, 2008 21:12:01 GMT -5
"True, that," Dare said, the words light with a hint of a chuckle. His head drooped a bit, his fringe only partially obscuring his face, but it was a reflex. People looked at him, that much he was used to, but people didn't often observe him, not the way he observed. Not with more than passing curiosity. Dare looked back up at the guy, more than passingly curious himself. "I was working on the cafe when you came in," he said at last. "But I'm hard-pressed to turn down a portrait when the opportunity knocks."
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 18, 2008 21:18:23 GMT -5
Emilian nodded and took a drink, "I have-" he stopped, "Had a close friend that thought himself an artist." He knew where the guy was coming from, Michael had always done the same thing. He only used the past tense because it was fairly obvious they weren't the closest of friends anymore. As Emilian watched the guy, he faintly remembered his last encounter with a guy, it must have been at least a year. It was only a passing thought, it had gotten to the point that whenever he thought about something so intimate Adara came into his mind.
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 18, 2008 21:27:04 GMT -5
"Thought himself an artist, hm? Wasn't very good, then?" Dare didn't make any associations to what the guy said, beyond the connected reference to his own artistic tendencies. "I guess if art's a state of mind, he was one, even if he wasn't good. It's like, the whole point of modern art." Dare found himself observing the guy again, wondering at the thoughts behind those startling eyes. Somehow, Dare doubted he was really considering art at all.
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 18, 2008 21:36:53 GMT -5
"I never really looked at his work much, always figured it a bit of an obsession." Emilian shrugged, in his opinion Michael needed to put the book down and do something. And he had very specific ideas of what those somethings should have been. "Am I to assume that thing's attached to your hip?" he asked, gesturing, but keeping his eyes on the other guy's, letting his mind go wild even if he knew he wouldn't act on it, it was fine as long as it stayed locked in his mind. He was nearly positive that his thoughts showed through his eyes, not that he really cared.
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 18, 2008 21:48:52 GMT -5
Dare was far too observant to miss the waves of tension radiating from the guy's eyes, and he had to take a breath, had to regroup for just a moment before answering the question. "Usually," he said, keeping to the conversation, though his mind couldn't help wandering, wondering. "I take it along in case the mood strikes me, and it's been striking me a lot lately." Was the guy toying with him? It seemed like a valid question, considering that smirk he still hadn't forgotten.
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