Lady Alexandrie d'Asgard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
coquettish_trees) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2021-10-26 08:14 pm
coquettish_trees) wrote in faderift2021-10-26 08:14 pm
Entry tags:
open | summer came and passed away
WHO: Alexandrie, Byerly, Loki, and whomstever else falls in~
WHAT: an open, and a little collection of other things
WHEN: Wibbly wobbly present time
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: ♥
WHAT: an open, and a little collection of other things
WHEN: Wibbly wobbly present time
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: ♥
It is, decidedly, shawl weather. Here at the docks, where Alexandrie is painting the pale autumn sky over the wind-whipped greying waters that turn colder every day, it's stepped across the line all the way into cloaks. Every so often she shifts and stamps her feet to warm herself, but the Lady seems more determined to put down the last brush stroke than she is to give in and go inside for the day.
It seems you've caught her right at that moment, for after a final touch and a long moment of staring she lowers her brush and sighs in satisfaction before turning to pack everything away. Or, fumbling, to try to.
"Would you mind unbuckling that case for me?" she turns and asks with a lightly amused smile, "I am afraid my hand has gone numb."
no subject
She hasn't wanted to interrupt the lady working on her painting. She has a vague idea of who this is, and she doesn't want to be a bother, so she's lurking, finding moments to steal by to see the painting's progress and slip away again.
And thankfully, she manages to come back in time to see it finished. It's beautiful.
"Uh-" Caught out, Ellie verbally fumbles for just a moment before nodding, stepping in to get the buckles undone on her art case, lifting the lid for her. "Yeah, definitely."
She doesn't touch her paints, knows how valuable they are, how personal, but she steadies the easel with one hand so the winds won't knock it askew.
"It's beautiful," she says, gesturing to her work. "You nailed just the right shade of blue."
no subject
"It is very particular, non?" she asks, peeking up at Ellie as she moves, "The sky. Ask someone what colour it is, and they shall say 'blue', as if all were one, but there are so many blue skies." Click, go the handles of the brushes as she gathers them together; click, as they go into the case. "Blues for each season, for each time of day, for when it rained yesterday, for when it will tomorrow, for when you look at it and think it has never rained at all before and never ever will." The movements would be graceful, were they not made fumbling and dull at the edges. Alexandrie tsks with soft humour as it takes her three tries to pick up a small thin brush, and then suddenly she has stopped entirely to look at Ellie with a tilted head, eyes full of curiosity, the little brush still in her hands.
"Have you a favourite kind of sky?"
no subject
Her hands are scarred and callused, and the two smallest fingers on her left hand are missing, the same palm slashed with the green of an anchor shard. She's not self-conscious about it, especially here in the Gallows.
Still stooped down, she gives her a smile at the question, gently tapping the brushes against her palm to level them, placing them where she indicates.
"See, you get it," she says as her grin widens, and she thinks a moment before laughing under her breath.
"The night sky, actually. All the stars and constellations. In the summer back home you could see shooting stars almost every year, too." She pauses. "If we're talking daytime, definitely October blue. Er, Harvestmere, here."
no subject
"Looks lovely, though," he adds, nodding toward her painting. "'s it for anything in particular? Anyone?"
no subject
Hello, Barrow.
no subject
"Most problems can be solved by chucking them in the sea," he muses, "at least for a while."