The pencil rested just above the surface of the paper, poised and ready at any moment to begin scratching at the page, leaving it's mark on the currently blank fibers of the paper. There was a moment of hesitation before the lead hit the paper, lightly drifting across the page in slow, graceful strokes. Bright, cerulean blue eyes scanned the area of the field, focusing on a pretty, purplish-blue flower growing out of a patch of tall grass not to far from their owner. The source of the eyes, a young blond man, hesitated for a moment, focusing his gaze on the flower and taking in every detail of the plant. He looked back down at his paper, beginning to lightly sketch out the flower. The young man let out a small sigh, shifting in the almost unnaturally green grass to rest on his stomach, his face not too far away from the plant's flower itself.
The sunlight seemed to hit the flower and it's stem perfectly, setting a good look that would be useful for shading practice. The blond looked back down at his sketchbook, lightly tracing pencil over papaer. With time, the stem and leaves formed, followed closely by the petals. It was almost as if the flower had printed itself in pencil on the sheet of the young man's sketchbook. He looked around the large field dotted with an occasional tree, one of the many large areas of land on his college campus. The blond himself, a young 19 year-old named Alfred, was a student there. He was currently enrolled in an art class at the college, as well as a US History class. He was currently majoring in art, and was actually working on an assignment at the moment.
Alfred sighed contently, resting his sketchbook on the grass and sitting up to grab his messanger bag which he had rested not too far away. He pulled out an almost leather-ish looking pencil bag, resting back on his stomach and unzipping said puch. All of his colored pencils rested inside; special art pencils that he had saved for months to buy, especially for his art class and personal art projects outside of the classroom. He pulled out a few different shades of green, beinning to work on coloring the stem and leaves of the flower he had drawn, with several different blooms on it. After he finished cloring the stem, he replaced the greens with yellows, lights and darks and began coloring the grass he had decided last miunte to throw in along with the flower itself.
The American had felt like that was a necesarry part of the picture; the grass surrounding the flower as well as the plant itself. Slowly, even slower than drawing the plant had taken, the flower really came to life on the paper. Alfred could imagine in his mind's eye the plant growing, continuing to grow beyond the borders of the paper, The leaves stretched, reaching out to grasp the sunlight, and petals unfurled to welcome the warmth, basking in the heat the sunlight brought. It was a cheerful thought that Alfred had, and always liked to imagine things like that when he drew. It had been a while since he had actually told anyone those imaginings, and they were mostly things he kept to himself, since others gave him strange looks and whispers when he had once tried to explain it in highschool.
It wasn't long before it started getting darker, and with the sun retreating beyond the far line of trees, the warmth left with it. Alfred felt a slight shiver run down his spine, gathering his things and slipping them into his bag. He flipped his sketchbook closed, surprised to hear laughter from nearby. It was then that he realized he didn't seem to be completely alone, as he had thought he was. People, other students, were walking across the field, heading towards a large area of trees, where no one could be seen through the cover of leaves. Alfred tilted his head slightly in confusion and curiosity, slipping his sketchbook into his messenger bag, Alfred started to head towards where quite a few cars seemed to be parked, just on the edge of the field itself.
Alfred felt like a foreign person, first discovering a new culture or people. He skirted around the girls he had originally seen walking towards the wooded area, heading towards the cars and looking for anyone he knew, wondering if maybe he had missed the announcement of a campus event... He usually paid attention to those, mostly because it meant the dorms would be empty, and he wouldn't have to worry about running into any of the many jerks that lived in the dorms as well when he tried to slip in. Such run-ins would usually end in Alfred's stuff spread across the floor, with his glasses tossed somewhere far away. Or, as it had once happened to him, his bag thrown in the lake near the school, and his glasses snapped in half, a lens lying nearby, crushed almost to a powder.
Alfred looked for a few minutes, but couldn't find a single person he knew... or at least knew wouldn't beat him up as soon as they saw him. Alfred sighed, spotting someone he knew... somewhat. He ran up to the slightly older man, lightly tapping the arm of the man, whom he knew was studying the culinary arts. "Ah, Francis!" Alfred said, looking rather relieved at the other man, who smiled in return, brightening when he looked over at the slightly shorter American. "Oh, Alfred! So you did get my invitation?" he asked, looking rather hopeful, "Ivan had told me you were busy... and didn't want to go."
Alfred blinked in surprise. Ivan? He hadn't seen Ivan all day, now that he thought about it. The blond tilted his head slightly, shaking it a bit. "No... I haven't seen him..." Francis huffed slightly, puffing his cheek out a bit. "I see... I'll have to have a word with him then, oui?" Alfred smiled nervously, shaking his head and holding his hands up. "Ah.. no you don't have to... at least I found you... What... exactly is going on?" Alfred peered around the Frenchman, looking off towards the trees. "I didn't hear about anything happening..."
"That's because no one told you," Francis shrugged, opening the door to his car, which he had been leaning against. "Here. Go ahead and toss your bag in here. It'll just be a burden."
Alfred blinked, setting his bag on the seat. "What's happening?" he asked, following after Francis as the older man gently grabbed his hand and started heading for the trees. He didn't answer, however, simply looking back at Alfred with an unreadable smile.