queen jane approximately .

[isa odette pomme]

and you want somebody you don't have to speak to

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WON'T YOU COME SEE ME QUEEN JANE?[/center][/size]

her hands were a mess. a complete mess. how had her hands come to be messy? drawing, of course. a new piece. a piece that was drawn in oil crayons, and oil crayons required smearing to blend them. and considering isa was the perfectionist she was, there was a lot of smearing involved when she used these said oil pastels. but it wasn't as if she was complaining - it wasn't as if her hands were ever actually fully clean for a moment. there was always some little stain here and there, whether it be from paint or chalk or charcoal or the oil pastels she was using at this very minute. art was her life, her purpose - it was the place where she could hold nothing back, even more so than her daily life. how reassuring it was to know that she always had something to go to, something that was so pure and genuine. she actually found herself sighing at the thought, a fond smile coming to her face.

what had brought her out here to sit at the end of the pier, though, isa wasn't exactly sure. perhaps the craving for fresh air and an idea in mind for a new piece? a combination that always drew her out of her home and into the big wide world, looking for inspiration for another new creation. and she usually found it, but often in some of the most obscure locations. not that the pier was obscure, but it was - frankly - the last place she'd expected herself to sit down and begin something. she'd expected a place more like... the park, something that was more 'ordinary,' so to say.

however, 'ordinary' didn't matter now. she was here, she was enjoying herself, she was relaxing. the atmosphere was peaceful, and for once she allowed herself to be immersed in such a tranquil mood. no worries, no wondering... just her, her imagination, and this tablet of paper and her oils. perhaps she ought to come here more often - it would maybe do her good. she could walk snowball down here, and he could sit with her while she drew or took pictures. it'd be good for the both of them.

the evening breeze blew gently, catching wisps of blond hair and attempting to steal them and carry them away whilst distracting her by caressing her face and neck softly. she closed her eyes momentarily, exhaling a deep breath. when her eyes fluttered open, she scanned the horizon, then looked back down to her tablet of paper, briefly looking over it before setting it down beside her, and the placing the little silver tin of oil pastels on top of it. she placed a hand on either side of her, leaning back and looking up at the sky. there were a few stars that had already shown themselves while others still remained hesitant to emerge. within a matter of minutes, she knew, the sky would develop from that hazy blue-orange to a deep dark blue. she looked forward to that, as much as it would unnerve her to be alone in the dark, and even more so to have to walk home in the dark.

but she wouldn't think about that now. the point of being here was to distract herself from needless worries. isa often wished she could be the kind of person to worry about something only after the moment it arose, instead of minutes, hours, or even days prior. on occasion she'd made herself ill with worry, sometimes even over the silliest little things. of course, she didn't want to be that way, but had it ever been her choice?

perhaps fresh air couldn't permanently change that, but it could relieve her of it temporarily, which was more than what she could begin to ask for.



status; complete.
words; 641.
tagged; none - have at it.
outfit; click here.
lyrics; queen jane approximately by bob dylan.
comments; because i needed to stop feeling worthless for not having a legit IC thread? ;) (and i apologize for any typos - it's 4 am here... haha)

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