Post by Morgaine Hetfield on Sept 3, 2006 4:57:47 GMT -5
Morgaine was sitting alone on the skating ramp, alone again. She enjoyed solitude as much as a nice plate of crepes but not always chose it, sometimes was the only ting she was given. She didn't mind to much, it was not like she'd been desperately seeking for aquaintances since she'd arrived here like many new students would do. She had her few friends, it was true, but she'd never liked to be known by everyone personally, she preferred to pick people to hang around with. Quality, not quantity.
Right now Morgaine had a sketchingpad in her hand and was portraying a few skaters, not from her school, maybe a few years jounger than her, who were sitting together on the edge of an other ramp with sandwitches and cokes in their hand, they were having a little break after long hours of jumps and tricks to witch she had assisted with non chalant sleepyness. The last few nights hadn't been easy for her. After the summer holidays she'd gotten so used to the sounds of her own home, the bus she and her father were carried around with as he toured around the world, and the strange times from all around the world that it was hard for her to start sleeping regularely again. The last few days she'd had faint rings under her eyes and a ready yawn had taken the place of her always ready answer to everything.
But even this she didn't mind that much, just like the solitude. Being alone made you feel free, no pressure from others, no such thing as being forced into a conversation, a thing that happend often to her since she sometimes had very silent days in which she barely talked, and which she hated. So were the nights spend awake a kind of new and fascinating experience for her. It was not that she'd never spend a night without sleep, but the frequency with which it happend lately supplied her of so much time to observe things in the darkness that she felt like discovering a new, hidden, fascinating world only she could be part of for these few hours between dusk and dawn.
This dream like status pushed her to draw since all her phantasies would come out of her and fall onto the paper like magic. Her hand would fly over the paper with incredible grace while her eyes would be glazed and mesmerized, she would barely be even looking at what her hand was doing, aready projecting the finished picture with her mind on the paper.
She looked up to rest her hard working phantasy and her eyes met the setting sun which reflected the golden rays like silver coins.
Right now Morgaine had a sketchingpad in her hand and was portraying a few skaters, not from her school, maybe a few years jounger than her, who were sitting together on the edge of an other ramp with sandwitches and cokes in their hand, they were having a little break after long hours of jumps and tricks to witch she had assisted with non chalant sleepyness. The last few nights hadn't been easy for her. After the summer holidays she'd gotten so used to the sounds of her own home, the bus she and her father were carried around with as he toured around the world, and the strange times from all around the world that it was hard for her to start sleeping regularely again. The last few days she'd had faint rings under her eyes and a ready yawn had taken the place of her always ready answer to everything.
But even this she didn't mind that much, just like the solitude. Being alone made you feel free, no pressure from others, no such thing as being forced into a conversation, a thing that happend often to her since she sometimes had very silent days in which she barely talked, and which she hated. So were the nights spend awake a kind of new and fascinating experience for her. It was not that she'd never spend a night without sleep, but the frequency with which it happend lately supplied her of so much time to observe things in the darkness that she felt like discovering a new, hidden, fascinating world only she could be part of for these few hours between dusk and dawn.
This dream like status pushed her to draw since all her phantasies would come out of her and fall onto the paper like magic. Her hand would fly over the paper with incredible grace while her eyes would be glazed and mesmerized, she would barely be even looking at what her hand was doing, aready projecting the finished picture with her mind on the paper.
She looked up to rest her hard working phantasy and her eyes met the setting sun which reflected the golden rays like silver coins.