OLIVER
The Temple had a lot to offer. Totally. Okay...not really.
Oliver didn't quite have much to do. He had far too few personal belongings, not enough to really keep him satisfied, if that's the correct terminology. He didn't really know what his thing was yet, what he was talented at or what he could do for hours on end. So instead he found himself sitting on the floor in the Temple over by one of the lights. One of his very, very few non clothing items was a small book filled with blank pages.
Using a makeshift charcoal pencil, Oliver tried his best to sketch out whatever came to mind. It wasn't much, but it became a game almost for him. He'd begin one thing, move on to another when he got bored, then go back to the first thing when he got bored with the second. He'd add as many intricate details. One page was only filled with flowers and vines, snaking around the pages filled with very small details. When he couldn't think, he'd tap the pencil against the paper and chew his lip.
Really, he wanted something to do. Anything. Drawing seemed like an obvious answer, sure, but there had to be something more, right?
Sometimes he'd look at someone and draw what they reminded him of. He'd engage in people watching, or try to. It's kind of hard to when you're confined to one small area.
In short: he was bored as hell and drawing all alone was only going to last him so long.
Oliver didn't quite have much to do. He had far too few personal belongings, not enough to really keep him satisfied, if that's the correct terminology. He didn't really know what his thing was yet, what he was talented at or what he could do for hours on end. So instead he found himself sitting on the floor in the Temple over by one of the lights. One of his very, very few non clothing items was a small book filled with blank pages.
Using a makeshift charcoal pencil, Oliver tried his best to sketch out whatever came to mind. It wasn't much, but it became a game almost for him. He'd begin one thing, move on to another when he got bored, then go back to the first thing when he got bored with the second. He'd add as many intricate details. One page was only filled with flowers and vines, snaking around the pages filled with very small details. When he couldn't think, he'd tap the pencil against the paper and chew his lip.
Really, he wanted something to do. Anything. Drawing seemed like an obvious answer, sure, but there had to be something more, right?
Sometimes he'd look at someone and draw what they reminded him of. He'd engage in people watching, or try to. It's kind of hard to when you're confined to one small area.
In short: he was bored as hell and drawing all alone was only going to last him so long.
quotey quote!
ayeee goes to two lines
Wowza
