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Post by FLETCHER SMITH on May 16, 2011 0:56:58 GMT -5
He sat perched on an old, wooden fence, right on the outskirts of the forest. It was a good place to collect one's thoughts. The forest itself was immensely dense and dark. There was a strange, almost foreign feeling that emanated from within those depths and while this might have been enough to frighten most people, Fletcher was immune to it.
He hopped off the fence, slipping his hands out from the pockets of his old, faded jeans, and slinging his camel bag over his shoulder.
The dark haired boy moved along the fence, parallel to the line of trees guarding the entrance to the unfriendly forest and stopped when he saw what he was looking for.
An enormous, naked and gnarled dead tree loomed over him, it's grey branches stretching into the sky and casting a spidery shadow across the dying grass.
He fished through his bag, pulling out his sketchbook and a charcoal pencil, sinking to the ground and flipping open to a blank page.
Analytical eyes judged the tree and it's angles, a slender, elegant hand hovering over the paper. Finally after a moment more of observation, Fletch's pencil met paper and he began to sketch the skeleton of the tree in the center of the page. |
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Post by MISCHA AOIBHEANN O'NEILL on May 16, 2011 1:41:53 GMT -5
 Mischa was bored, and she wanted to see Fletcher. She'd gone to a cafe, and there written an outline for a paper she had to do for her English class. She would keep it fairly simple for now and probably add more details later.
Though knowing Mischa, the paper had a chance of turning into something else entirely. She was known for being unpredictable, and following an outline for a creative paper...was definitely predictable.
The girl laughed softly at her thoughts as she packed her laptop away, tossed her empty coffee cup into the trash and left the cafe with the sound of the little bell above the door tickling her senses.
Her tick winter boots squeaked as she walked on the snow, a sound she loved, and Mischa took out her little silver cellphone. Once she'd typed in Flech's number, the girl sent a text message: hey! where are you?
Would her best friend be at school? Or could she meet up with him somewhere in town? Mischa found herself wandering away from the downtown area, humming under her breath. She wad done all of her school work for that day, and she wanted her dose of Fletcher...now.
 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -TAG - Fletch~
WORDS - 285
NOTES - :DD
CREDIT made by meee~ [/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by FLETCHER SMITH on May 16, 2011 20:50:41 GMT -5
His phone vibrated from within the depths of his ripped up messenger bag and his hand paused, blue eyes looking over towards it. Pursing his lips, Fletch set the pad down, resting it against his knee, and dug around inside the bag until he pulled out the beat up looking cellphone.
The screen flashed Mischa's name and the corners of his lips subtly tugged upwards. What would she want? He opened the message, read it's contents and hastily texted a short, self explanatory message back. Edge of forest. Near tree. It had been Mischa who showed him this tree in the first place, knowing it was something that would interest him. She would be able to find him, if that was indeed her intention.
A chilly breeze skirted across the field, rustling through the dry, dead grass and bothering the pages of his sketchbook. Fletcher pushed his dark hair back behind his ears, grimacing in his slightly too-thin sweater and turned back to his sketching. |
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Post by MISCHA AOIBHEANN O'NEILL on May 17, 2011 15:09:01 GMT -5
Her phone went off and she smiled as she fished it out of her coat pocket. It had better be Fletcher or she'd have to take something and smack--
It was from Fletcher. Mischa barely kept from doing a happy dance as she read the message he'd sent. He was at the tree? Of course she instantly knew where to go, and she headed in that direction with a little more speed in her steps.
Mischa would sometimes sit and analyze the happiness she felt whenever she interacted with Fletcher, but not today. She just couldn't be bothered. It never solved anything, only brought about feelings of hurt and longing.
Within about ten minutes, she'd walked along the edge of the forest and reached her best friend. "Fletch!" She stopped walking for a moment as she waved, then closed the distance between them at a jog.
Despite the colourfull appearance of her hair, her skin, and the clothes she wore, Mischa knew how to appreciate the more dark and melancholy aspects of life. One of them was this tree.
If anyone were to analyze her and her relationship with Fletcher, they would probably come to the conclusion that that's what she felt for him also. Simply an appreciation for the darker aspects of life. But it was much deeper, much more complex than that.
Just looking at the gnarled branches...made her want to sit in the dead grass, and take out a notepad and a piece of charcoal...
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TAG - Fletch~
WORDS - 332
NOTES - :DD
CREDIT made by meee~ [/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by FLETCHER SMITH on May 17, 2011 20:37:10 GMT -5
He had lost track of the time after sending the text message, not wanting to get his hopes up if Mischa wasn't actually coming to meet him. He didn't really understand why she seemed to drop everything to be with him, but there was a part of him that coveted that, wanted to hang on selfishly to the attention she showed him. So much so that he didn't question her reasons.
They knew each other better than anyone else did or ,he suspected, ever would. They had practically grown up together and while that was a good thing, it also jarred him a little. Mischa knew where he came from, and unfortunately even though he had tried to hide things she knew more about his home life than anyone. And even if she defended him, she could recognize the truth in her parent's concerns about her spending time with him.
Hell, they didn't even know that he had been accepted to Lux Lucis and he highly suspected that it was because if they had...they would have kept Mischa at home.
Her having seen sides of him that no one else knew about, ate away at his sense of pride and they had had a fantastic fight about it more than once, but that was just how Mischa was. There was no hiding things from her, ever. No matter how shameful or damning they were, it was as though she could pull anything out of him at will. As though he had no defenses with her, and that was something that both thrilled and terrified him at the same time.
Hearing his name carried out on the wind, broke his concentration on the tree. It was finished now, a twisting, shadowed replica of the original. He ran a thumb over where his charcoal had smudged and looked round to see her coming towards him.
He waved her over and gave her one of his very rare-and-usually-reserved-for-her smiles, taking in her sunny disposition in contrast to the heavy atmosphere and the cold bite in the air. "You knew I'd want to sketch this tree, didn't you?" He mused, "Well, are you already done with classes then?" |
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