exsiliumlogs | less a hobby and more an outlet [OPEN]

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less a hobby and more an outlet [OPEN]

Date & Time: Daytime this week
Location: Outdoors, still within the Hold perimeter
Characters: Jericho, you, some pencils and paper
Summary: Superhero sketchin vermin TOTALLY LEGIT RIGHT
Warnings: ?

He hasn't had much by way of friendly fauna to work with since...well, since Exsilium happened. And even well before that! So imagine that – seeing a scrawny little rat was exciting enough to stop everything, get the sketchbook out, and try his best to draw as fast as he can. Exciting moreso, perhaps, because these kinds of things are such races: Who knows how long that critter's going to be gnawing on that nondescript piece of trash on the other side of the alleyway?

He chewed his cheek, face scrunching up now and then as he tried to etch out the little shape to match what was just a few feet away.

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The mood that hang in the air was thick with distress and gloom. Not even a knife could cut through it, no; they'd need a wrecking ball. It was getting to him, making Shadow irked and more uncomfortable about his presence in general, but not because of anything he did.

He didn't want this. Who ever said he did?

He wished he wasn't the Ultimate Life. He wanted to be normal, innocent, happy, much like Jericho and much like Maria. Instead, from his very first month, he underwent more tragedy and pain than most people ever would in their lives.

He hated it.

He wasn't about to sit and dwell further. He didn't want to just sit around and brood (no matter how often he did so beyond his control), so he decided to keep himself busy. He nudged at the sketchbook, not grabbing it, but eyeing it curiously.

"I... never have tried to draw, not for years."

The last time he drew was just shoddy crayon work with Maria, anyway. Maybe he could try again, but he wasn't sure if Jericho would be willing to let him borrow his sketchbook for a single doodle.

The first impulse was to snatch the book back, hide it before Shadow could rifle through and see what scribbles and etchings were already there, but...that didn't seem to be his goal, so Jericho eased out of the tense posture he'd drawn into at the start. He glanced down at it, face heated from feeling foolish, still filled with that small burst of adrenaline, a little slow to pick up on what Shadow had said. He did, though, giving him a glance before gathering the book up in his hands, staring at it for a moment. Aside from the words he'd scrawled, it was a pretty empty page, but he turned it over anyway, patting the ground beside him blindly for the pencil, scraping it up and handing the both of them over with a still-uncertain look. Did he want to try? Or was he just saying it to say something...?

Oh, well, now. That wasn't exactly what he'd wanted to draw out of him, a fearful reaction. To see him fork over the pencil and paper so easily, though, made him feel uncertain. Should Shadow just take something so personal, even if it was just for a second?

He shook his head, yet he grabbed the pencil anyway, fingering it and twirling it carefully between his digits. He spoke softly, not much more than a fleeting whisper, eyes on the yellow paint that covered wood and lead.

"You could just rip me a sheet of paper. There is no need for the whole book."

He looked up to him knowingly, albeit a bit hopefully. Would that be enough to ease his fretting?

Jericho shook his head quickly, wrapping his arms around his legs and hugging them to himself, making it very apparent he wasn't going to make a fuss or hurry to grab the book back. He tried to make his face reflect that reassurance, but it looked a little queasy on him for how muddled up and anxious he felt. After all that sad talk, it was hard for him to really turn around, find the right way to go or feel...But letting Shadow do that seemed a whole lot better, he thought.

"Hn... very well."

Shadow went straight to work then, utilizing that empty page as well as he could. He was in no way the pinnacle of fine art, but he tried his best to come with a drawing that was at least somewhat accurate.

That really was as best as he could remember her. It made him smile in a most bittersweet manner to see her immortalized on paper, yet it flickered away as sadness tried to bubble to the surface again.

Maria.

She still looked beautiful to this day.

Perhaps a little on the rude side (but not intentionally so), Jericho leaned and stared with big, unblinking eyes as Shadow drew. He could easily guess what was coming to life on the page, but didn't feel compelled to make it known and interrupt.

His mouth tugged a little on one side, giving the smile a crooked look while the last few pencil strokes fell and settled on the page. That poor girl is really important to him, isn't she? It was sad to think, but a relief to know. Truly awful people only cared about themselves, after all.

Shadow honestly didn't mind. He had eyeballed his work, as well, so it was really only fair. The way he wanted to express her beauty made it all the more important that others should see it, that others should admire her the way he did. She deserved it.

"Your hair reminds me of hers," he spoke tenderly, brushing fingertips over the indented lines made by the borrowed pencil. "The same shade, the same thickness."

He missed it.

He missed her.

Jericho's brow pinched with sympathy, not quite successful at a smile. It was touching, truly, to be compared to someone so admired and respected, but at the same time...a mix of troublesome feelings as well. A childish part of him was a little uncertain he liked being compared so readily to a girl, while a more sensible part was worried he was going to be held up to such high expectations – expectations he only knew in pieces from Shadow.

Maybe, he couldn't help but wonder, being that familiar to that girl was more harm than good? Or was it the other way around? He couldn't be sure. But Jericho wasn't going to tell Sahdow to buzz off just for that...he could do that anytime he wanted, after all. And company was nice, even if it was a little uncomfortable at the moment.

Poor guy, he thought, his head tilting against his knees as he watched.

Shadow sat in silence, nibbling down on his lower lip. Seeing her face, seeing everything about her, it all brought back so many memories, especially being around a kid so much like her. He had to wonder, what if Jericho could speak? Would his voice be as smooth and melodic as hers? As comforting? He would have liked that.

Well, he wasn't going to let the tense air permeate the area for much longer. He shook his head and handed him his pencil and sketchbook again, drawing intact.

"Here. Thank you."

His tail was wagging a little. He wasn't sure if that was involuntarily out of happiness or out of discomfort, but he gathered that it might have been the former. Maybe. Perhaps.

Jericho uncurled out of his crunched-up posture to extend his hands to accept both book and pencil, but stopped short, stuck suddenly with a notion. One hand lifted up enough to shake, opposing the offering before his wrist flicked down pointing at the pencil, tapping the bottom corner of the page. With his other hand he, mimicked the act of writing, while his lips drew back in extra emphasis of the word he couldn't say aloud.

Sign.

Ah...

Aha, aw. Shadow got the message quite clearly. He wanted him to sign it, to make a mark of ownership on his own artwork. Jericho undoubtedly didn't want anyone to think he drew this. The idea of that got the corner of his lip tugging upward, doing so beyond his control, and... was that a little purr? That just might have been.

"Fine. One moment."

He pressed the pencil back down on paper, only for a brief moment to sign his name in lovely letters:

The boy grinned, feeling strangely pleased by the simple act. He couldn't really explain why if he had to, but it was just enough to ease some of the queasiness in his stomach.

With that done, he nodded his approval, accepting the book back at last. Once he'd pressed his thumb down on the pencil against the page to keep it from rolling away, he drew his free hand to his lips, letting it drop down, palm-up as he mouthed thank you.

A soft, pleasant hum was all he gave in response, that persistent grin still trying his muzzle despite his growing desire to eliminate it. Shadow rose, taking to stretching his fingers all the way down to his toes, bending and curving to flex out every muscle in his body again.

"Mm, this will do."

He straightened back up, feeling plenty more refreshed and rejuvenated. He was ready to get back to business, but not without sneaking a glance back at him and curtly nodding. He wasn't sure how to word the feelings stirring within him, urging to release themselves, so he hesitated even as he finally spoke, voice cracking.

"I... appreciated the company."

That would do it.

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less a hobby and more an outlet [OPEN]

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