Title: On to the next one
Noah Vaughan - March 4, 2012 12:42 PM (GMT)
Noah figured it was an okay day to be outside. It always was.
He uttered a deep sigh as he pushed open the door of the Apollo cabin, immediately squinting as the sun dared to shine right into his eyes – blinding him as he stepped outside. He was carrying his large, black bag with him as he walked up to the middle of the circle, dropping it down in front of his feet as soon as he came to a stop.
It was not that he was growing bored of camp (well, not really, if he was being honest). It was the fact that it seemed he had painted everything that seemed remotely interesting. He had filled canvas after canvas and dozens of sheets of paper with the beautiful scenery, not-so beautiful scenery and people – but it seemed he had all grown bored of it now. He had not painted anything in a while, which was, quite frankly, exceptional for him. After having thrown down the pair of canvasses held in his hands too, he took a seat onto the ground himself – immediately reaching for his bag, opening it with quite the aggressive movement.
He was going to create a true masterpiece today, whether he was going to like it or not.
None too gracefully, he took a hold on one of his treasured paint brushes after having spread out all of his tubes of paint, shifting to get in his desired position – leaning forwards slightly as he laid one of the empty canvasses onto the ground. Muttering something under his breath, he grabbed the orange paint – opening the cap with a loud click, before squeezing a good portion of it onto the naked cotton. Pleased with the horrifyingly abstract result, he threw the tube back on the ground, before angrily pushing his brush down right into the big blob of paint.
Paris Milligan - March 7, 2012 05:08 AM (GMT)
Paris was starting to run out of ideas. He had done everything there was to do at camp. He had built nearly everything imaginable with the tools provided by his cabin and he had even taken up hobbies to entertain himself from day to day. He rarely ever got bored, he always found something, but even he was reaching his limit of creative ideas. It didn't help that he was out of notebooks. He could find endless things to document and count, but without his notebooks he was lost. He had explored every inch of camp too. He wasn't sure what he was doing walking around camp now as if a new cabin would sprout from the ground, or new campers would fall from the sky. He was practical enough to know neither would happen.
It really didn't matter where he was going, just walking was good enough for now. Maybe that's what he'd focus on, he'd start walking everyday. He heard it was a relaxing exercise. Yes, he'd make that his new thing. Everyday from now on, he'd walk around camp until he had walked three miles. He figured such a walk might get boring quickly, but maybe he could convince someone to walk with him. Ethan seemed cool and he was still holding out for Crystal, although he had not seen her in a good amount of time. She had probably forgotten about him. He would not blame her. He rarely cared what people thought of him, he had long ago accepted his social awkwardness, but still....
As he started to walk, around the camp, he noticed a boy with canvases in the cabin circle. Was he going to paint? Why hadn't Paris thought about painting? Probably because he wasn't artistically inclined in that way. Sure, he could sculpt a life like stature, but 2D art was above his understanding for some reason. Well, he was still interested.
Paris moved over to observe what the boy was doing. "Oh, that looks cool," he said looking over the boys shoulder. By this time Paris had documented everyone's names and thus he was aware that his name was Noah. Paris could not recall which cabin though. Well, if he was painting, odds were he was from Apollo.
Paris looked at all the paints. He actually very much liked paint, maybe that would be his new obsession.
Noah Vaughan - March 11, 2012 04:43 PM (GMT)
It was getting more evident he was not in that much of a good mood as usual as he slid his brush over the canvas, painting something that did not resemble anything at all. He leaned back slightly to watch the work in process, examining the strokes of black and blue against the orange background with a slight frown. If he looked hard enough, he could almost imagine that it looked as good as he would have liked. Uttering a small sigh, he moved to bend over his work yet again. That was until he heard a voice not too far away from him.
Shocked, he turned towards to face the person whose voice had almost made him jump out of his skin, sunglasses falling from his head with a clattering sound due to the sudden movement. He had gasped for his breath, dropping the brush from his left hand. He sat there, nailed to the ground for a mere few seconds, before breaking out in nervous chuckles, shaking his head slowly while pressing a hand against his hair. He sure got scared easily. What was with him? “Sorry, man. I tend to get real… involved with my work. You scared the living hell out of me!” he exclaimed, laughing dying out fairly soon, before clearing his throat loudly. He had to admit the other did not look familiar, but that was probably his own fault. He looked nice enough, he guessed. There was certainly not something to be scared about.
His gaze travelled downwards to lay them upon the canvas yet again, watching the splatters and vicious smears defiantly. Non-figurative paintings had never really been his thing. “You think so?” he asked, pursing his lips tightly. “To be honest, this is my first attempt at painting something which doesn’t really look like anything. I can do faces, houses, rivers, all that stuff. Random lines and swirls, though? Not so much,” he added, scratching the back of his head as he got a hold of his sunglasses, folding them and putting them aside the proper way. He could’ve done worse, he was sure, but Noah did not found it something to be partifcularly proud of. Moving to reach for the blue tube next to his left knee, he proceeded to lather a good portion of the painting with the thick substance, before throwing it back onto the ground. He shifted to take a seat on the ground, noticing how the boy was staring at the various paints scattered around him. He looked up to gaze at his face, rising one of his eyebrows onto his forehead in question. “You like painting? I brought another canvas, if you’d like,” he said, gesturing towards the clean cotton lying on the ground, not too far away from them.
Paris Milligan - March 16, 2012 04:45 AM (GMT)
Okay, maybe he should have announced himself a little better. Such things never really occurred to him in the moment. But he was here now, and apparently he had scared the guy. That was a new reaction. He was fairly sure he had never scared someone before. People avoided him back at his old school, but it had nothing to do with him being scary. Not that he was scary even now, he had just surprised the guy. He counted all the various thoughts that had cropped up in his mind. He never realized how often his mind could get distracted.
"It's okay, I get real involved when I'm metal working. It's totally understandable" He nodded. Paris knew very little about art. He had taken art when he was in elementary school, but that hadn't been all that productive. He got yelled at because his pencil drawn bird was too skinny. He had been eight and he hadn't considered drawing since. Not even as an idea for a new obsession. Now he was considering it. He had done just about everything else that was available to him. "And I'm sorry about that." He was surprised anyone could have been surprised by him. Paris was very talented with his hands, but he had two left feet made of led. His footsteps were far from silent and he often tripped and stumbled. If there were a pebbled out of place, he was sure to find it with his toe.
Paris looked back down at the painting. Well, he guessed it looked nice. He wasn't the greatest judge in the world. He liked it, but did that really amount to anything? He didn't think so. Despite his reservations, he nodded. "I wouldn't say it if I did not think it was true. If this is you trying outside of your comfort zone, that's awesome." Come to think of it, Paris had sculpted life like statues, but never tried anything else. He added that to his list of things to do. Okay, so approaching that guy had been a good idea. His previous empty list of things to do was slowly growing. The guy was like a gold mine of inspiration.
"I love painting," he said excitedly. "Never tried it," he said in a much more subdued tone. He laughed a little after that. He stopped in mid laugh, realizing how odd it was to be laughing right now. Everyone at camp didn't need to know he was slightly unhinged. "But I don't think I could waste your canvas with my inept skills."
Noah Vaughan - March 21, 2012 07:17 PM (GMT)
“Metal working, huh?” he asked, intrigued by the fact the other seemed to like doing something he had never really thought of doing before. He figured he had made it fairly clear that he did not like to leave his comfort zone, trying his hand at making some abstract painting being quite strange for him to even try. Noah had always known what he did and did not like, and did not bother with trying new things all too often. He liked doing the things he did, so why would he? He thought about the other’s hobby for a minute, then opened his mouth. “You’re probably from Hephaestus, then?” he asked, looking at him in question.
An awkward smile started tugging at his lips, shrugging slightly as the young man complimented him a second time. He was always modest and slightly embarrassed when it came to his work, never really knowing how to deal with positive feedback. “Well, thank you. It is, indeed, quite the big step,” he said jokingly, genuinely flattered as he laid down the brush he held in his hands, wiping the orange paint that had busied itself with coating his fingers onto his trousers, obviously not too bothered by it. He sat down a bit more comfortably, getting his knees out from underneath him, rolling his shoulders.
His mouth opened in excitement as the boy commented on how he loved painting, only for it too smack shut a few seconds later, hearing that he had never really tried it before. He sat there, not knowing whether the strange comment was a joke more than a crude, stingy comment. He started laughing none the less, shaking his head slowly, not even noticing the other had stopped showing his amusement only just before. He leaned forwards slightly to reach for the canvas, arms stretched awkwardly as he finally got a hold of it, huffing as he pulled it with him. He threw the empty cotton next to his own, glancing up to watch the other’s face. “Inept skills? I dare you to show me just how inept they are. I bet you are not as bad as you are making yourself out to be,” he grinned, winding his fingers around one of his spare brushes, before lifting his arm to hold it up for the young man to take it.
“What do you say?”
Paris Milligan - March 28, 2012 05:31 AM (GMT)
"Yup," he said with a slight nod. "That and some wood working." He decided not to go into all the various forms of hobbies he had taken up over his months at camp. Metal working and working did not even being to cover all the things he had tried. No, it was best to not freak out a possible friend. He'd do his best to not do anything too crazy, he thought as he counted the number of times the other boy blinked. Paris rarely did that. He counted just about everything, but such a small think would never usually catch his attention. He figured the pressure of making a friend was making his mind over think everything. Like he would be able to figure out a way to befriend the other demigod by his blinks.
"Yes, I am. You're artist so I assume that make you Apollo?" Not that the other cabins couldn't be artistic, but if they were going to play the stereotype card. "You're welcome," Paris said, pleased that what he had said seemed to be acceptable. "Big steps are good," Paris was about to nod vigorously, but realized that would probably look stupid and childish. The child of Hephaestus briefly watched as the other boy wiped the paint on his fingers on his pants. Well, he didn't seem to be too picky about his clothes. Paris was never worried about such things. His shirt now probably had a few grease stains.
Oh had he said something wrong? The others boys reaction made Paris second guess his wording. Wait now he was laughing? So had he done good? Oh he was so confused. He wanted to count something. Absently, he twiddled his fingers in a odd pattern and counted by twos in his head.
"That's nice of you to say, and if you insist I will take you up on that dare." He took the brush being offered to him and flopped down next to the other boy. "Okay where do I start."
Noah Vaughan - April 4, 2012 05:30 PM (GMT)
“Impressive,” Noah was genuinely impressed, he had to say. Both metal and wood working sounded like tough business to him. He did not just say, or think, that to feel less uncomfortable in the presence of the other – seeing as he was already noticing that the other boy was quite different from the others around camp. Not that that was a bad thing. Not at all.
A short chuckle left his mouth as the boy inquired if he was one of Apollo's children, shrugging in response to his question. "Yes, actually," he replied, nodding slightly. He wasn’t sure if he had insulted the other with immediately asking him if he was a son of Hephaestus, guessing that it was kind of early to judge about that. He had been right, but he made a mental note to stop throwing around names of Gods like he was used to do. It seemed like it had gotten some sort of camp etiquette, to just yell your parents’ name wherever you went. It was easy. You didn’t really need to get to know each other, that way, which was entirely wrong in itself.
"Good!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, his grin spreading from ear to ear as the dark-haired boy decided to join him at last, rubbing his hands together in a malicious gesture when he had taken the brush from his hands. He waited for the other to get comfortable on the ground, before extending his hand, holding it there for him to shake it. “My name is Noah, by the way. It’s nice to meet you,” he spoke, waiting for the other to introduce himself, too, before answering the other’s question of where he should start.
“Wherever you want, really,” he muttered, truthfully – raising his arm to gesture at the empty canvas in front of him. “I suggest you begin with just lathering your brush in some paint, and throw it onto your canvas. Like so,” he picked up his brush with his left hand, before casually lowering it into a little tin of bright red paint. He made sure all of the little hairs were covered in the substance, before throwing it down onto his canvas – making quite the impressive… dot to show up onto the soiled cotton. He made a face. “Unless, unlike me, right now – you want to actually paint something that actually represents something,” he laughed, the corners of his eyes wrinkling slightly as he did. “In that case,” he continued, staring in front of him thoughtfully, squinting slightly. “Say, you want to paint the cabin in front of us. You should take your time and just observe it – look at all the details, or the whole picture. It depends on what catches your eye first. It’s all about your own vision when you’re going to paint something, you get me?” he explained, making some weird, over-explanatory gestures towards the cabin in front of them.
Paris Milligan - April 11, 2012 10:51 PM (GMT)
Impressive? "I guess?" He had never really considered his work all that impressive. It was nothing compared to what other cabins could do. The children of Posideon could move oceans with their powers. Okay, maybe not to such an extreme level, but they were far more powerful. His skill was something anyone with training could do. It was very mundane in his opinion.
So he had guessed right. It was really not that hard since at the very least he had the full cabin counts in his head. It was simply a matter of cross referencing the list in his head. He had gotten pretty good at it. He could pick out nearly everyone in camp and figure out what cabin they were in even if he did not know them. It wasn't that he gave into stereotypes, but to be honest they were stereotypes for a reason. There was always some truth to them. He felt like he was a very stereotypical example of what people thought Hephaestus to be. Well, at least in the sense of his hobbies. Who else at camp did wood working and metal working all the time? He'd like to meet a Aphrodite girl that would take on the mostly dirty hobby. He wondered if he could get Crystal to do some wood working with him.
At this point he had given up trying to get over her. He was fascinated by her and he just had to accept it in his head. It did not hurt thinking about her from time to time...or all the time. At the moment he needed to focus on making a friend.
Paris took the other boy's hand and shook it firmly. "Paris, nice to meet you too."
"Mhmmm, okay. Paris dipped his brush in the yellow paint and let his hand hover over the canvas for a moment. He then made a nice big circle. Well, it was a lopsided circle. He could carve a nearly perfect circle but this looked more like a yellow orange that had been smashed with a hammer. Yup, he was for sure inept at this.
"Oh the cabin," he squinted up at the cabin. Yeah, there was no way he could paint that if he could not even make a decent looking sun. None the less he observed the cabin carefully trying to take in the details. "I'm going to teach you how to carve something, or make a weapon. I can totally teach you how to make your own sword."
Noah Vaughan - April 16, 2012 06:24 PM (GMT)
Intrigued, Noah found himself staring at the other boy's canvas, wanting to watch his every move as he moved to lather the cotton with the very first flick of his brush against it. He was surprised to see the boy had chosen for one of the brightest colours he currently had in his possession, finding it nowhere near suitable to paint the cabin in front of them with. He kept his mouth shut, however, practicing what he had preached just moments earlier – hadn’t he spoken about how it all evolved around their own visions, and stuff?
The son of Hephaestus’ vision certainly was a unique one, though. The sight of the yellow, lopsided circle made his breath catch in his throat, not really sure of what to do, right now. It seemed that the young man was more capable of making abstract paintings than he was, already – which, quite frankly, intimidated him the tiniest bit. That was until Paris squinted up at the cabin, making perfectly clear he had not intended to paint the building, at all.
Oh. Thank goodness. Paris did not seem to be that bad of a student after all, but his painting skills certainly could use some work. He was not one to judge – he knew for a fact that if he was ever to switch places with the other demi-god, he would make a huge mess of both himself and the wood he would have been trying to make something out of. It would probably mean he was going to have to spend some more time in the Infirmary, he was certain. “Good one,” he complimented the other. His nerve was certainly something that Noah was starting to admire, seeing as most people would have probably chosen a lighter, safer colour – before slowly making their first mark onto the canvas. Paris, however, seemed to be less concerned by his so-called inept skills. “You could probably try to add a contrasting colour, now. Contrasting colours tend to complement each other. Or, you could just – you know – do whatever you want. You don’t seem to be afraid of making any mistakes,” he added, laughing. He could learn from him.
He was taken by surprise however, as the other insisted on teaching him how to carve something. The thought of it was certainly interesting. It seemed it was now Noah’s turn to worry about his inept skills, but he did not voice his concerns. He raised his hand to brush through his hair in thought, before shrugging. “Sure, sounds great. I am kind of a klutz, though – and I suppose carving in things requires me working with sharp objects, doesn’t it?”