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Post by fidelia on Jun 1, 2016 8:09:34 GMT
[attr=class,tonight] [attr=class,imlost] [attr=class,wecare] never coming back [attr=class,mightregret] [attr=class,mightregret1] [attr=class,mightregret2] [attr=class,weshare]she comes here pretty much any time she has a moment to spare. it’s a lot less dreary than sitting around the compound staring at the walls, and of all the things that have changed in the seventy years she was on ice, art is one thing that has more or less remained the same, as far as anna is concerned. she can still put pencil to paper in exactly the same way she did back in the ‘40s, and that’s more comforting than she could have imagined. so she found this little cafe with outdoor tables where she can sit and sketch people as they walk by, where the waitresses bring her as many coffees as she asks for, and where, thankfully, she can go more or less unnoticed if she dresses down. there are too many people passing by for anyone to star at anyone for too long, and besides, most people don’t really recognize her out of uniform. so she gets to sit, and relax, and fill up the pages of her sketchbook, spend her time creating something instead of destroying for a while. it’s… nice. she turns the page and picks the first person her gaze lands on, taking down the rough idea of him without even really thinking about it. it’s a skill that takes a lot of practice, to look without even really seeing, to draw without paying too much attention, but she’s had a lot of -- wait, hang on, that can’t be right. she frowns suddenly, a feeling of deja vu tugging at the back of her mind, and looks up, eyes wide. there’s no way -- but she’s certain. she can’t explain it, but she’s sure the person she had started to draw is someone she’s seen before. and not yesterday or last week, but… before.°r [newclass=.tonight]height: 400px; width: 300px; overflow: hidden; margin-top: 15px; colour: #252525; position: relative; font-family: 'Arial', sans-serif;[/newclass][newclass=.imlost]height: 400px; width: 300px; background-image: url('http://i.imgur.com/ivtMsiY.png');[/newclass][newclass=.wecare]height: 200px; width: 275px; border: 2px solid #fcfcfc; padding-top: 173px; font-weight: 800; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; text-align: center; font-size: 26px; line-height: 110%; color: #8b8b8b; margin-top: 12px; position: absolute; margin-left: 10px;[/newclass][newclass=.mightregret]position: absolute; height: 410px; width: 280px; border-right: 20px solid #C1DADC; background-color: #fcfcfc; opacity: 0.6; margin-left: -300px; margin-top: -430px; transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.9s;[/newclass][newclass=.mightregret1]height: 410px; position: absolute; width: 280px; border-right: 20px solid #44677c; background-color: #fcfcfc; opacity: 0.7; margin-left: -300px; margin-top: -430px; transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.6s;[/newclass][newclass=.mightregret2]position: absolute; height: 410px; width: 280px; border-right: 20px solid #005183; background-color: #fcfcfc; opacity: 0.8; margin-left: -300px; margin-top: -430px; transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.3s;[/newclass][newclass=.weshare]position: absolute; height: 385px; width: 257px; border-right: 20px solid #274049; background-color: #fcfcfc; opacity: 0.8; margin-left: -320px; margin-top: -455px; transition: all ease 0.2s; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; padding-left: 13px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 13px; line-height: 110%; font-size: 11px; color: #274049;[/newclass][newclass=.weforget]font-size: 11px; margin-bottom: -10px; margin-top: 2px;[/newclass][newclass=.weforget a]font-size: 11px; color: #fcfcfc; font-family: 'Arial', sans-serif; text-decoration: none; text-transform: lowercase;[/newclass][newclass=.tonight:hover .mightregret]transition: all ease 0.2s; margin-left: 0px;[/newclass][newclass=.tonight:hover .mightregret1]transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.3s; margin-left: 0px;[/newclass][newclass=.tonight:hover .mightregret2]transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.6s; margin-left: 0px;[/newclass][newclass=.tonight:hover .weshare]transition: all ease 0.5s; transition-delay: 0.9s; margin-left: 0px;[/newclass][newclass=.weshare::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 9px; background-color: #274049; border:none;[/newclass][newclass=.weshare::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #274049; border-size: 5px 4px 5px 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: #fcfcfc;[/newclass][newclass=.weshare::-webkit-scrollbar-track]background-color: #fcfcfc;[/newclass][googlefont=Raleway] |
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Post by jack on Jun 4, 2016 4:41:52 GMT
Homework was dumb, and he knew it was important to help him learn the basics of any subject taught in school, but it did not detract from the fact that it was still stupid. Jack pored over countless formulae that seemed more English than science or maths, and tried his best to stop himself from dozing off.
Alas, the might of homework was too great -- he had fallen asleep at an outdoor table at a café, pencil still in his hand, and books spread across the table that seemed a little too small for all the textbooks and notebooks that Jack had.
His tall glass of ice-cream soda and a double float had long since melted into a milky-white liquid that was neither here nor there. Its fizz was all gone as well, and drinkable as it was, it definitely would not taste good.
It was when the waitress came to clear his table that Jack woke up, stretching back in his seat -- and then he saw a lady at her seat, pencil in her hand as well, diligently sketching something. That was nice, he thought.
Jack smiled at her, if only because their eyes had met when she looked up.
fidelia
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Post by fidelia on Jul 22, 2016 9:00:38 GMT
[attr=class,tonight] [attr=class,imlost] [attr=class,wecare] never coming back [attr=class,mightregret] [attr=class,mightregret1] [attr=class,mightregret2] [attr=class,weshare] the boy smiles at her and after a half-second of shock, she smiles back, the expression more the ghost of one than anything else. obviously she’s wrong, it couldn’t really be -- who she thinks it is. at the absolute most, this kid is related to him somehow, but even if he were alive today, he’d be much, much older than this. anna doesn’t exactly think there are that many other octogenarians running around with the same faces they’d had in the 1940s. still. she looks back down at her sketchbook, her gaze cloudy. the boy had been sleeping so peacefully; the soft, gentle lines spread across the paper betray absolutely none of the memories creeping along at the edges of her mind, threatening to creep in and drag her back down into the war. no. this is an unfortunate passing resemblance, nothing more. she forces herself to smile again and looks back over at the boy, trying to convince herself. “what are you studying?” she blurts before she can stop herself, and certainly before she can pause to remind herself that he’s young enough that strangers striking up a conversation is probably a little weird to him. high school, maybe? oh well. he looks nice enough, and it’s been a while since she talked to anyone outside of either the initiative compound or some sort of combat situation... °r [newclass=.tonight]height: 400px; width: 300px; overflow: hidden; margin-top: 15px; colour: #252525; position: relative; font-family: 'Arial', sans-serif;[/newclass][newclass=.imlost]height: 400px; width: 300px; background-image: url('http://i.imgur.com/ivtMsiY.png');[/newclass][newclass=.wecare]height: 200px; width: 275px; border: 2px solid #fcfcfc; padding-top: 173px; font-weight: 800; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; text-align: center; font-size: 26px; line-height: 110%; color: #d9d9d9; margin-top: 12px; position: absolute; margin-left: 10px;[/newclass][newclass=.mightregret]position: absolute; height: 410px; width: 280px; border-right: 20px solid #C1DADC; background-color: #fcfcfc; opacity: 0.6; margin-left: -300px; margin-top: -430px; transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.9s;[/newclass][newclass=.mightregret1]height: 410px; position: absolute; width: 280px; border-right: 20px solid #44677c; background-color: #fcfcfc; opacity: 0.7; margin-left: -300px; margin-top: -430px; transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.6s;[/newclass][newclass=.mightregret2]position: absolute; height: 410px; width: 280px; border-right: 20px solid #005183; background-color: #fcfcfc; opacity: 0.8; margin-left: -300px; margin-top: -430px; transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.3s;[/newclass][newclass=.weshare]position: absolute; height: 385px; width: 257px; border-right: 20px solid #274049; background-color: #fcfcfc; opacity: 0.8; margin-left: -320px; margin-top: -455px; transition: all ease 0.2s; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; padding-left: 13px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 13px; line-height: 110%; font-size: 11px; color: #274049;[/newclass][newclass=.weforget]font-size: 11px; margin-bottom: -10px; margin-top: 2px;[/newclass][newclass=.weforget a]font-size: 11px; color: #fcfcfc; font-family: 'Arial', sans-serif; text-decoration: none; text-transform: lowercase;[/newclass][newclass=.tonight:hover .mightregret]transition: all ease 0.2s; margin-left: 0px;[/newclass][newclass=.tonight:hover .mightregret1]transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.3s; margin-left: 0px;[/newclass][newclass=.tonight:hover .mightregret2]transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.6s; margin-left: 0px;[/newclass][newclass=.tonight:hover .weshare]transition: all ease 0.5s; transition-delay: 0.9s; margin-left: 0px;[/newclass][newclass=.weshare::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 9px; background-color: #274049; border:none;[/newclass][newclass=.weshare::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #274049; border-size: 5px 4px 5px 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: #fcfcfc;[/newclass][newclass=.weshare::-webkit-scrollbar-track]background-color: #fcfcfc;[/newclass][googlefont=Raleway] |
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Jul 25, 2016 14:24:52 GMT
Post by jack on Jul 25, 2016 14:24:52 GMT
He'd smiled, hadn't he? He supposed that was invitation enough to engage in conversation. Maths was dreadful, and Jack was about to jump at any chance to not think about homework. Talking to her was perfectly fine as an excuse.
"Maths," he said, frowning slightly at the thought. "It's not making sense. I mean, for a subject that's supposed to be the most logical one of them all ... it's not really proving its case." Jack's gaze fell upon the numerous books upon his table, and for a moment, he felt embarrassed. He must have been quite the sight.
... no-one was that helpless at schoolwork, right? Was this why she asked him that? To poke fun at him? (But that couldn't be ... it felt like the wrong sort of thought to think.)
"What about you? College homework?" He indicated the sketchbook that she had in her hands.
fidelia |
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Post by fidelia on Aug 11, 2016 8:03:46 GMT
[attr=class,tonight] [attr=class,imlost] [attr=class,wecare] never coming back [attr=class,mightregret] [attr=class,mightregret1] [attr=class,mightregret2] [attr=class,weshare] she couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit. she could remember well enough the times when most all she’d had to worry about was how her studies were going; after all, for her, high school had been less than ten years ago. which was still very odd to think about. she was getting better, though, at acknowledging the strange, dual nature of her past -- recent to her, decades gone for everyone else -- without getting too caught up in the memories. “i was never very good at math either,” she confessed. “but then again, i guess i never really tried -- i had other subjects i liked better, so i focused on those. you look like you’re doing better than i ever did.” she gestured to his pile of books and papers for emphasis. but thinking about college made her mood dip slightly. that had been one of those far-out-there dreams her mother, god rest her soul, had encouraged her to have, but that had never come to any sort of fruition… and deep down, she’d higher education was not in the cards for her. back then, few enough girls had gone to college anyway -- not like today -- and there was no way she could have afforded it even so. besides, right around that time her mother had died, and after that… she shook her head, telling herself off for sinking into the past like that. “no, i’m not in college,” she replied, partly as a way of distracting herself. “i wanted to go to art school, but it wasn’t really an option. now i just draw to… relax, i suppose. my, uh, job is pretty stressful.” stupid -- if he hadn’t already recognized her as initiative, and she didn’t think he had, she’d like to keep it that way, if only for the sake of having a nice, normal conversation. mentioning her job was a step in the wrong direction. but it had slipped out so naturally -- it really was strange to talk to someone who was, as best she could tell, pretty separate from her world of capes and spandex. °r [newclass=.tonight]height: 400px; width: 300px; overflow: hidden; margin-top: 15px; colour: #252525; position: relative; font-family: 'Arial', sans-serif;[/newclass][newclass=.imlost]height: 400px; width: 300px; background-image: url('http://i.imgur.com/ivtMsiY.png');[/newclass][newclass=.wecare]height: 200px; width: 275px; border: 2px solid #fcfcfc; padding-top: 173px; font-weight: 800; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; text-align: center; font-size: 26px; line-height: 110%; color: #d9d9d9; margin-top: 12px; position: absolute; margin-left: 10px;[/newclass][newclass=.mightregret]position: absolute; height: 410px; width: 280px; border-right: 20px solid #C1DADC; background-color: #fcfcfc; opacity: 0.6; margin-left: -300px; margin-top: -430px; transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.9s;[/newclass][newclass=.mightregret1]height: 410px; position: absolute; width: 280px; border-right: 20px solid #44677c; background-color: #fcfcfc; opacity: 0.7; margin-left: -300px; margin-top: -430px; transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.6s;[/newclass][newclass=.mightregret2]position: absolute; height: 410px; width: 280px; border-right: 20px solid #005183; background-color: #fcfcfc; opacity: 0.8; margin-left: -300px; margin-top: -430px; transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.3s;[/newclass][newclass=.weshare]position: absolute; height: 385px; width: 257px; border-right: 20px solid #274049; background-color: #fcfcfc; opacity: 0.8; margin-left: -320px; margin-top: -455px; transition: all ease 0.2s; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; padding-left: 13px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 13px; line-height: 110%; font-size: 11px; color: #274049;[/newclass][newclass=.weforget]font-size: 11px; margin-bottom: -10px; margin-top: 2px;[/newclass][newclass=.weforget a]font-size: 11px; color: #fcfcfc; font-family: 'Arial', sans-serif; text-decoration: none; text-transform: lowercase;[/newclass][newclass=.tonight:hover .mightregret]transition: all ease 0.2s; margin-left: 0px;[/newclass][newclass=.tonight:hover .mightregret1]transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.3s; margin-left: 0px;[/newclass][newclass=.tonight:hover .mightregret2]transition: all ease 0.2s; transition-delay: 0.6s; margin-left: 0px;[/newclass][newclass=.tonight:hover .weshare]transition: all ease 0.5s; transition-delay: 0.9s; margin-left: 0px;[/newclass][newclass=.weshare::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 9px; background-color: #274049; border:none;[/newclass][newclass=.weshare::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #274049; border-size: 5px 4px 5px 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: #fcfcfc;[/newclass][newclass=.weshare::-webkit-scrollbar-track]background-color: #fcfcfc;[/newclass][googlefont=Raleway] |
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