Post by SHEER on Mar 1, 2013 23:59:26 GMT -5
"Sir?"
His fingers were absently tracing away, finding the fine lines of the bird's wingtips, the ruffle of feathers making its amethyst plume.
"Sir? Um...excuse me? Sir?"
The delicate beak, those bright eyes, that soft tuft like a crest. More of a beige? His fingers dipped in the vessel of imaginary paint, then halted midway to his masterpiece. No, no, no, more of a bisque. Accented with ivory? He wiped the imaginary paint from his fingers, re-dipping in the 'bisque' paint vessel to correct the feathers.
"SIR!"
Annoyed, his violet eyes slashed sidelong to find the shopkeeper, scrunching her apron, shoulders squared, as she stared up at the much taller white-tiger hybrid. Except that she didn't know he was a hybrid. Or a feral. Otherwise she may have run away screaming--or worse, refused to let him buy some paint.
Sheer turned from his painting on the wall (a painting only he could see, at the moment) to the shopkeep. As he leveled his seemingly deadpan face on her, he caught the scent of irritation radiating from the smaller woman.
"Are you going to make a purchase?" she asked a little tersely.
Sheer let his eyes slide onto the porcelain bird statue he'd been 'painting'. He glanced back at his portrait of it, one only he could see, it seemed, gauging from the frown of the woman's brows. He'd thought better of a paint store clerk. At least she should recognize art when she saw it.
Huh. Sheer glanced back to her, his expression never once changing. "I want an amethyst with stone inset tones, a bisque, and some ivory."
The clerk turned on a heel to get the paint colors he requested, muttering under her breath about "spacy", or something.
He turned his dulled gaze back outside to the busy street of the Central District. As long as no one recognized him, he'd be fine. Just a little paint and he'd be on his way...
His fingers were absently tracing away, finding the fine lines of the bird's wingtips, the ruffle of feathers making its amethyst plume.
"Sir? Um...excuse me? Sir?"
The delicate beak, those bright eyes, that soft tuft like a crest. More of a beige? His fingers dipped in the vessel of imaginary paint, then halted midway to his masterpiece. No, no, no, more of a bisque. Accented with ivory? He wiped the imaginary paint from his fingers, re-dipping in the 'bisque' paint vessel to correct the feathers.
"SIR!"
Annoyed, his violet eyes slashed sidelong to find the shopkeeper, scrunching her apron, shoulders squared, as she stared up at the much taller white-tiger hybrid. Except that she didn't know he was a hybrid. Or a feral. Otherwise she may have run away screaming--or worse, refused to let him buy some paint.
Sheer turned from his painting on the wall (a painting only he could see, at the moment) to the shopkeep. As he leveled his seemingly deadpan face on her, he caught the scent of irritation radiating from the smaller woman.
"Are you going to make a purchase?" she asked a little tersely.
Sheer let his eyes slide onto the porcelain bird statue he'd been 'painting'. He glanced back at his portrait of it, one only he could see, it seemed, gauging from the frown of the woman's brows. He'd thought better of a paint store clerk. At least she should recognize art when she saw it.
Huh. Sheer glanced back to her, his expression never once changing. "I want an amethyst with stone inset tones, a bisque, and some ivory."
The clerk turned on a heel to get the paint colors he requested, muttering under her breath about "spacy", or something.
He turned his dulled gaze back outside to the busy street of the Central District. As long as no one recognized him, he'd be fine. Just a little paint and he'd be on his way...
