Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~
Disclaimer: Life is Strange belongs to Dontnod Entertaiment.
Prologue: A promising project
It was late in the afternoon in Arcadia Bay, Oregon. The warm autumn sun shone through the large windows of the now absent art classroom at Blackwell Academy. The school's arts subject teacher and one of the world's famous photographers Mark Jefferson was sitting at his wooden desk, his laptop next to him showing a list of all current students who attended his lectures. It was the beginning of a new semester and he was more than curious if a hidden gem was waiting to be discovered by him in this group of aspiring students. Maybe there was someone among them who could still surprise him and capture his interest. A future star artist maybe, or a photographer with an interesting and unique vision or … a new model, a new possible subject.
This had always been the exciting part for him being a teacher at Blackwell. He was here to teach, yes. And while it sometimes was tiring and tedious to share his vast knowledge with these ungrateful teenagers who mostly had the attention span of a toddler, he considered some of them worthy granting them his precious time. Maybe even one of them would actually listen to his lectures and appreciate his vision. A vision which he believed to be the culmination of his entire work of art. Everything in his life had led to this point. And this vision was worth it to take all these risks for these past few years. It was hard to say how long it would take to realize his vision. Until he would finally find that one perfect shot which captured true purity, true innocence. It would be his final masterpiece.
Maybe his art lectures would inspire others to follow in his footsteps, to pursue his grand artistic vision. And to be a teacher here at this well-known academy of art and science, this job offered him the best possibilities to achieve his goals. How ironic that it was just Sean Prescott who gave him this position at Blackwell in the first place. That man didn't even have a clue who he was dealing with. But he would get his rude awakening, sooner or later.
Mr. Jefferson, as these kids all respectfully called him here, had always given them the same task at the start of a new semester. It was an assignment for the first school day which would separate the gifted ones from the untalented losers. The brown-haired men couldn't help but smile as he remembered their shocked and surprised faces as he told them to hand over a picture which represented the essence of their art style. It was a fitting first task to not only measure their skill levels, but also to have a glimpse of their personality, their soul. In his mind a single picture could tell you more about a person than a thousand spoken words.
A pile of photos was lying in front of him and the photo of Ms. Victoria Chase was the first which caught his attention.
It was a picture of a young woman wearing a stylish flowing Gucci dress in red, the lighting, the model's pose and the chosen angle were excellent, the colour red was very vibrant and prominent in this shot. It was a good photo but the teacher just sighed, the disappointment clearly visibly in his features as he examined the photo with his brown scrutinizing eyes.
'Ah Victoria, always trying so hard.', he scoffed because this young woman still hasn't found her own style yet. One could clearly see the influences of her idol. She was just another fangirl of Richard Avedon, the whole picture was like a copy of one of his fashion photographs. 'It isn't bad to seek inspiration from your favourite artists but you should at least make it your own style, my dear Victoria.'
It was no secret to him that her two closest friends were writing Victoria's essays for his art class. And copying a certain style of your beloved artist didn't make it any better. Still, he chose to put the photo to the stack which contained the pictures of those which he deemed to have some talent. Victoria was skilled and knew how to use her fancy expensive DSLR camera effectively. She just lacked her own style, her own vision. Time would tell if he has to move her to the loser's pile one day.
The next photo in his hand was shot by Nathan Prescott. He didn't need to read the name on the back to know it was him. The motif was Nathan through and through. A black and white shot showing a dead bird on the grey asphalt street. It was clearly shot in the dark, the flickering street-lamps were casting some nice shadows there. He chuckled quietly and felt a weird sort of pride when he thought about his so-called son. 'Very good, Nathan. You're finally embracing my teachings. Seems you're not as deaf as you sometimes appear to be with that drugged mind of yours.'
Mark Jefferson acknowledged the evolution of Nathan's artistic rich Prescott kid who was so desperately seeking Mark's approval.' You really have an eye for shadows, Nate. I always knew that. And you're slowly improving under my guidance. It seems our private tutoring lessons weren't for nothing.' Smiling he placed Nathan's picture on top of Victoria's photo.
Another photo soon caught his eye, a picture of two little children, a boy and a girl laughing and running on the beach, the sea water splashing under their feet. 'Kate Marsh. Only she is able to display such kindness and innocence through her pictures.' He thought, a part of him appreciating her approach, feeling that this work reflected Kate's essence. But the other part, the darker part of him questioned her beliefs and naiveté. 'How will you feel, Kate, if someone would finally put your faith to the test? Would you prevail and stay strong? Or would your spirit break apart? I can't wait to see your transformation through my lens. And i can assure you, it will be magnificent.'
The next photos were more than disappointing. But what can you expect of these dumb Bigfoot football jocks who didn't take Jefferson's art classes seriously at all. The loser's pile was growing larger and larger and he reached a point again where he groaned in frustration and wanted to quit this whole endeavor for today.
Sighing, he took another photo in his hand and read the name 'Max Caulfield' on the back of an analog picture. 'Ah, the new student. The quiet photo nerd with her old analog camera.' He smiled in amusement and suddenly froze in his movement when he turned the photo around. Minutes passed by as his brown almost black eyes roamed over the photo, absorbing all the tiny little details. No doubt, this was a simple, yet stunning piece of art. It was a self-portrait, or a so-called selfie as how kids these days called it in their ignorance.
„Max Caulfield...". Mark Jefferson whispered her name softly, a hint of strange fascination audible in his quiet voice. This single photo had caught him completely off guard. It was brilliant in its simplicity and beautiful in its creative execution. This girl had used the fountain in front of the school entrance as her stage. A photo of her smiling face reflected in the water, the light dots of the sun framing her in a natural and wonderful manner. This snapshot was exactly what he had been looking for. He could immediately tell if someone had a gift to be a future star photographer or not. Max Caulfield clearly had a gift. The question was if this was just a lucky shot or if Max truly was a capable photographer. Maybe she was what some would call a natural talent.
Just by looking at this picture, it told him everything he needed to know about this girl. Her passion for photography was shining through here and it brought forth a feeling which he hadn't felt in a long time. A feeling of familiarity and nostalgia. Like he could somehow sense a connection between them.
Max reminded him of his younger self. A younger Mark Jefferson at the beginning of his promising career. A time where he hadn't faced the disillusion of this whole contrived fashion industry yet, where he hadn't reached this point of great frustration which had paved the way to his new obsession. A past where his photos had carried his enthusiasm and his love for photography like Max Caulfield's shots. It was a time he remembered fondly. Now that Jefferson was older and had gained more and more experience and knowledge over the years, he had developed a new passion as his focus had shifted to solely carving his own private art niche.
His scrutinizing gaze moved up to the laptop screen, his black and white trendy glasses reflecting the bright monitor's light. Scrolling through the student excel list, he soon found her name. But his disappointment grew as he couldn't gather much information about her here. Aside from her birth date and the name of the last high-school she attended in Seattle there was nothing. He'd have to search for her student file in the faculty office to find out more about Maxine Caulfield. It then occured to him that he had another photo of her, the commemorative picture he had taken of each new art class during their first day. Quickly he went to the respective folder and opened the image file.
There she was. She somehow looked small and inconspicuous sitting between her classmates Taylor and Alyssa. It was clear just by looking at her face that she probably felt uncomfortable in front of his camera. But Mark Jefferson could understand her uneasiness. Most of his students felt overwhelmed when they witnessed their teacher, a professional photographer at work with his expensive Hasselblad H5D camera. As he closely observed her on the picture, his mind memorized her appearance. Her short brown hair, her beautiful blue eyes, the tinly freckles on her face. He could already imagine himself taking pictures of her, trying different angles and close-ups and framing her exactly his way.
But the man also knew that he would have to be patient and take his time. The art lecturer didn't want to scare away his prey. No, he wanted to lure her. It would be so much better and easier if she willingly posed for him. Just like Rachel Amber. He would have her all to himself, enjoying their own private photo sessions.
Jefferson looked away from his screen and tried to recall Maxine's seat in his class. 'Ah, it was there. Right behind Daniel Da Costa's desk in the back of the classroom.'
The man stood up and slowly walked behind her chair. 'Max, i wonder, what do your camera eyes see from here?' He asked in his thoughts and knelt down while his right hand absent-mindedly traced the wooden surface of her table. Deep in thought his observant eyes scanned the whole room. His gaze intense and focused as he was searching for the right spot to not only be captured by this girl's camera eyes but to also have a fitting angle to let his eyes capture hers.
'There, too perfect.' It was a spot right in front of her, in the middle of the classroom. This position would be more than satisfactory to hold the attention of all his students and to have his eyes on his new promising project, on this young and gifted woman called Max Caulfield.
AN: I wrote this as a prequel to the events in Life is Strange. I've always wondered how Jefferson could become so obsessed with Max and wanted to write a little story about it. I'm not quite sure yet if this will only be a prequel or if this story will go on and become AU. Hope you like it and please keep in mind that english is not my first language. I'll try my best to keep errors to a minimum. Thanks for reading. :)