the sun was setting low

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

The sun was setting low, hitting the lake at just the right angle to give it all sorts of colors. Which was a bit of a shame, seeing as most of Zoe's photography was in black and white. She could still probably capture the light in some manner, and that was always pretty. Of course, she also generally preferred people, at least as a standard rule. Thankfully, there were always people by the lake, especially with the weather warming up as it was. Zoe had gotten a few pictures as it was, but she found one that was particularly striking.

Mostly because he seemed to be staring out at the lake himself. Zoe had actually paused to stare for a while, wondering what was going on in the other person's mind. It looked, well, it sort of looked like what Zoe imagined she looked like when she was examining a picture to be taken. She followed the male's gaze for a bit, noticing where and what he was looking at. It seemed as though he was... studying the scenery? Zoe couldn't help but smile a little at that, smile and lift her camera up to take a few quick photographs.

Zoe stopped though, lowering her camera, biting her lip and wondering. Usually this was the point where she did something stupid and noticeable to get her subject's attention. But she hadn't, at least so far. Her feet had decent traction, she seemed to be far away from anything that would make noises, and her camera was in one piece. It was actually weirder that she hadn't messed up. So Zoe instead opted to take few steps closer, then follow the male's gaze. She couldn't help but want to take a picture of the scene herself, lifting the camera up. Then she had to take another shot. Then she paused, looking, and trying a "It's pretty, isn't it?" of course her voice had to be super soft, and her accent wasn't making it any louder. Still, it was words, at least, that was a step in the right direction for Zoe.

[Regan and Cole Robins]

The sun was setting low, and the conifer trees created a gorgeous frame to the horizon along the lake that made the whole scene utterly charming and picturesque. The clouds were in wispy lines across a sky that was filled with colour. The surface of the lake looked like glass. It made Cole want to up and walk across, inching his way closer to the magnificence that was this sunset.

He had never yet seen the sunset from the shore of this lake. He'd opted not to bring his paints or his sketchbook and instead just let himself get swept away by the scenery. Part of him regretted not doing so, as he'd love the opportunity to capture a scene like this in watercolour. The other half was glad that he could simply let his brain bask in the sheer peace of it all.

He took a deep breath and let his consciousness sink away, the colours of the sun and sky overwhelming his consciousness. He felt like he was floating on the surface of the lake, watching the golden orb of the sun dip lower and lower. He felt a little light-headed, almost as if the clouds were carrying him along. He felt weightless... light... airy.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" said a soft voice from... somewhere. He wasn't expecting it, but he didn't care what kind of voice it was. It was right. "It's more than pretty," he felt himself say aloud. "It's the only thing that matters. It's like the whole world is resting inside the warm cocoon of that sun, everything at once, and nothing. Like the lake, the trees, the birds, the clouds, all of it is just watching and waiting for it to settle and lull them all back down to sleep, except none of it ever sleeps. It all just sits up watching and waiting."

If one had looked into his eyes, they might have looked glazed over. Cole was far from noticing anything like that now.

---

OOC Notes: I'm half expecting Zoe to be like "are you stoned?"

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

More than pretty, than a speech that Zoe could most certainly understand. she found herself studying the light, remembering how she saw it. She waited, not wanting to talk over the other artist, not sure she really could, for that matter. Her tongue lay stilled by his words, only to be inspired by the silence that followed them:

"It's the end of a day, a time passing that won't ever be back," she began, her voice light and lilting, her accent as light as her tone, "the sun goes away, painting everything in its last rays, and for a moment, that moment, everything bursts into color, color that won't ever be exactly like that again. It's here, but it's not going to stay, and who knows if it will ever be here tomorrow? It's just dipping out of our sight, maybe waiting, maybe watching, but could we really say?'

So no, no Zoe did not think that Cole sounded high; he sounded like someone who thought at least adjacent to how she thought, which was definitely enough for her. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she looked out over the water. The colors danced, and again, Zoe was struck with the urge to capture that. She brought her camera up, though she knew that whatever she shot wouldn't copy the color. Still, she'd remember, and she could always write a poem to help her never forget.

[Regan and Cole Robins]

What a truly beautiful way of capturing this view, he thought, still off in his abstract little la-la land. The words floated in and out of his brain without choosing anything in particular to connect to. They just were, the same way he just was right now. Existence was its own simple pleasure.

The click of the camera's shutter brought Cole back to reality, but slowly, like waking up from a particularly nice dream. He was still staring at the sunset, but now he was suddenly conscious of the person standing next to him.

He stood still. When did she get there? How long had she been standing there? And here Cole had been zoning out so deep he hadn't even really noticed. And then there was--

A sudden, frightening thought spasmed through Cole's mind, and he hugged himself and blushed. "I, uh... did... was I talking out loud just now? I hope I, um... I hope I didn't like, sound weird or anything..."

He glanced once or twice sidelong at the person who'd joined him. She didn't seem overly threatening, not that that ever really comforted Cole much. Her hair was cropped short, and the camera she was carrying was nothing short of impressive. She was staring at the sunset just as he was, with a similar, wistful look on her face.

It slowly dawned on him that the other voice that he'd been hearing had been hers, and what's more, she seemed to share his, well... his poetic appreciation of what he was staring at. He wasn't sure whether this made him feel more or less at ease. He chose for the moment not to say much, but he did keep staring at the diminishing sliver of the sun, still enjoying the beauty and grace of it.

---

OOC Notes: Poor Cole, all lost in his own head.

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

Zoe nodded a little, confirming that the boy had, in fact, been speaking aloud. She knew that sensation, when you got so wrapped up in the art that you sort of said things that you were thinking, acting as if your mind and your mouth were somehow connected with one another. She shifted her feet, glancing over at him. He struck her as being handsome, masculine, even, and certainly not her type. She felt a little pang of guilt for immediately thinking that last, like she should be classifying people according to specific types. Worse still, she couldn't help but feel that someone like this boy very much should have been her type.

They both stared at the light twinkling on the water a moment, neither speaking for some time. Zoe actually liked that, that neither one of them felt it necessary to really say or do anything besides stand there and just enjoy the moment for what it was. She took several deep breaths, as if she could inhale the moment for what it was. Minutes would tick by in silence, before Zoe figured that she should at least say one thing:

"I'm Zoe," came out, her voice still soft. Names were important, after all, and she still thought her name was a little pretty. Her parents certainly hadn't cursed her by calling her that. It could have been much, much worse; Zoe had heard there was even a girl called "Frank" out in the Academy somewhere. She also added, rather shyly: "And what's your name?" trying desperately to sound like she wasn't talking to a small child or easily startled animal (the latter of which wouldn't have been an entirely inapt metaphor for Zoe herself).

[Regan and Cole Robins]

Despite his initial surprise, Cole found himself strangely calm. Maybe it was the scenery; maybe it was the calm lilt of the girl's voice; maybe it was everything, or nothing. Whatever it was, he felt more serene and clear-headed than he ever had when meeting someone new. He smiled to himself. The thought gave him confidence that, at least sometimes, he wouldn't always be ruled by his bashfulness and his shy nature.

Or maybe it was this girl. That was also a distinct possibility. She was unlike anyone he'd met here. Their mutual ruminations on the scene before them left him feeling less... odd, somehow. On some level, perhaps limited to just this stranger, there were people in the world that saw things through the same eyes he did. People who saw the natural beauty the world had to offer, who could let themselves fall into it and just... imagine.

Zoe.

"I'm Cole," he said quietly, and even to him, his voice sounded calm and even. He nodded to the device in her hand. "That's a beautiful camera... I can't even imagine what it must have cost you. I wish I was any good at taking pictures. Every time I try, they end up blurry or something." He sighed. "That and I wish I'd brought my paints. It'll never be quite as real in my memory."

---

OOC Notes: Cole is NEVER this at ease. Me likey.

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

Cole, that was not a name that Zoe would have expected. It sounded so very strong to her, very masculine, not something she would've expected for an artist. Then again, she supposed that parents didn't usually assign their children names thinking it would lead them onto some specific destiny. Cole began speaking about her camera anyway, and Zoe looked down, nodding a little. It had cost her quite a lot, well, her and her parents. She wondered if she should mention that. Her mouth opened a little to let the words out, but Cole had already said something else, something about painting.

"Paints?" repeated Zoe. She blinked. "Oh, you must be a painter! I've always admired painting," she said, feeling a little lame. She shifted her feet, fidgeting as she glanced over at the lake. Now she felt a little guilty somehow, as she had her artistic tool and Cole was lacking his. Then again, a camera was easier to deal with, at least in comparison with paints.

"Sometimes you can paint it better in your memory though," said Zoe, thinking of her own poetry and feeling that she needed to say something encouraging. "I would offer to take a photo for you, but, um," she bit her lip and looked down this time, down and away from Cole, "I only take black and white photos..." for various reasons, none of which would involve painted facsimiles.

[Regan and Cole Robins]

Cole nodded, half to himself and half to Zoe, mulling over what she'd said about painting from memory. "You're right... sometimes when I'm painting from memory, I'll let myself make it a little more, well... perfect... than it actually might have been. When I'm looking at it, I don't usually let myself do that... I like to capture every detail just the way it is. I guess that's what you always have to do with a camera."

At her offer, a small smile crossed his face and he shook his head. "That's... really sweet of you to offer, but... no. I never paint photographs... because..." He paused, thinking for a moment. "I guess it's because when you see something in reality, you get the feel of it, the smell of it, the taste of it, everything. You understand what it is, what it wants. The picture has a character. It'd be like looking at you in a picture, you know? I... wouldn't know anything about you, just from looking at a picture of you..." He blushed a little. "I hope I'm making sense..."

---

OOC Notes: Sorryshortpost. ^^;;

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

Zoe nodded, agreeing with the statement at the least. That was why she so often enjoyed photography: it allowed her to capture life onto film, something to remember, but capture it the way she saw it. It sounded like Cole felt very much the same; it even sounded like that was what he tried to accomplish with his painting. The whole idea of a picture having character made perfect sense to her; every picture, drawn or photographed, had some sort of story to it, some sort of character.

"Well, you might know a bit about someone from looking at a picture of them," offered Zoe, speaking a little softly again, obviously not wanting to disagree too much. "I took a picture of you when you stared at the lake, and someone who looked closely would think that you were thoughtful, or perhaps intrigued by the lake or what have you."

Zoe paused, fidgeting again. "I'm a little surprised to hear that you're interested in capturing reality though. I always thought painters were more about feeling and the such," Zoe chewed her lip for a moment, considering, "though I suppose that could be what you're doing anyway... I try to do it from time to time," she flushed, "I sometimes write poems on the photographs as part of the art," she looked down at her feet, feeling quite silly for admitting this, let alone actually doing it.

[Regan and Cole Robins]

Cole scrunched his face a little, thinking. "You know... it isn't even really that I'm trying to, um... to 'capture' reality, exactly... I guess I'm more trying to get the energy of it, the feel of it, you know? Like... what I paint might not look exactly like what I see, but it's the combination of all the senses and sensations and everything I can feel and hear and smell... it's more about what the scene is trying to tell me than what I'm trying to see in it. Does... does that make sense?"

He had a feeling it wouldn't, because he wasn't entirely sure he understood it himself, but it was the only way he knew how to describe what constantly brought him back to the paintbrush. There was something beyond what he could capture in his memory or even in a photograph.

Then his inner loading bar finished loading and he blinked. "Wait -- you write poetry? Like, real poetry? That's... that's amazing. I love to write stories and I love to read, but I've never been able to write poems... I'm really jealous."

---

OOC Notes: Although I'm feeling strangely poetic writing in this thread.

[Regan and Cole Robins]

Cole scrunched his face a little, thinking. "You know... it isn't even really that I'm trying to, um... to 'capture' reality, exactly... I guess I'm more trying to get the energy of it, the feel of it, you know? Like... what I paint might not look exactly like what I see, but it's the combination of all the senses and sensations and everything I can feel and hear and smell... it's more about what the scene is trying to tell me than what I'm trying to see in it. Does... does that make sense?"

He had a feeling it wouldn't, because he wasn't entirely sure he understood it himself, but it was the only way he knew how to describe what constantly brought him back to the paintbrush. There was something beyond what he could capture in his memory or even in a photograph.

Then his inner loading bar finished loading and he blinked. "Wait -- you write poetry? Like, real poetry? That's... that's amazing. I love to write stories and I love to read, but I've never been able to write poems... I'm really jealous."

---

OOC Notes: Although I'm feeling strangely poetic writing in this thread.

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

It made perfect sense to Zoe. She was probably one of the few people at the Academy to whom Cole's slightly befuddled statement actually made perfect sense. It actually aligned almost too well with what she'd been thinking. It was hard to explain that though, especially to a non-artist. Fortunately though, both Cole and Zoe were artists, so despite the lack of clarity, it just all sort of fell into place.

The further compliments made Zoe blush again, looking down at the water and kicking her feet a little. "Well, yes, at least I try to write real poetry. People seem to think I'm rather good at it," she shrugged. She couldn't say for sure if they were really complimenting that part of her work. The photography she knew was most excellent. The poetry, perhaps not quite as much. She'd always just written what she'd felt was needed for the photograph, and that didn't always come across quite as poetic as it probably should have been.

"And you might be better at it then you think. Maybe you could write a few poems in your stories sometimes, maybe songs or something," offered Zoe. She trailed off as she went though, feeling a little embarrassed for having offered the suggestion, like she was some kind of poetry expert or something.

[Regan and Cole Robins]

Cole smiled timidly. "I've tried before... I don't know. I can never make the words come out quite right. I've tried writing songs, too, but I was never much of a music guy... I've always been happy with my sketchbook and my paints. But, um... I'd love to see yours sometime, if you'd be okay sharing... and I bet your photos look awesome." He shrugged shyly. "You know... just between us artists..."

He looked back out onto the lake. The sun was almost gone now, and the water was still and cool. There was a slight breeze about, tossing his hair around. He knew he should be going back inside soon, but he felt very at ease and didn't feel quite like going anywhere just yet. And he liked sharing the space and the scenery with Zoe, knowing they looked at it through the same eyes.

He cleared his throat. "How about... we meet here again, another sunset. I'll bring my paints next time. We don't, um... we don't even have to, like, talk, or worry about anything if we don't want to, just... do what we come to places like this to do, only... only not... alone."

Once again, he hoped he made sense.

---

OOC Notes:

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

Zoe nodded, adding a quick: "Yes, I can bring some." She'd had plenty of people ask about her photographs before, some even who were artists. There was a bit of concern regarding showing them to another artist, but Zoe was pretty confident in what she was able to produce. "I'd love to see what you have too," she managed, edging the words out in a near whisper. She was beginning to feel more comfortable, and she had to remember that there were plenty of people out there who liked her for who she was. It was just hard to remember that all the time.

They were soon both looking back at the lake, Zoe glad for its calming influence. She watched the last bits of light dancing on the water as the sun finally tucked itself away, ending this day and bringing forth the night. Days truly ended when the sun went down, as far as Zoe was concerned, though she didn't have any qualms about spending time outside. it was just that night felt like something different entirely.

A cleared throat caught Zoe's attention and she turned to look quizzically at Cole as he spoke. "Are you asking to paint my picture?" she asked, slightly confused and more than a little puzzled. "I wouldn't mind..." she trailed off, biting her lip. That felt a little presumptuously, really, and it made her feel a little guilty for even suggesting it.

[Regan and Cole Robins]

Cole immediately turned three shades of scarlet. The thought of painting her portrait hadn't even occurred to him - he'd simply thought they could come back and experience the sunset together again, except this time both would have their artistic medium with them to document it. But now that she mentioned it - as rarely as he ever did portraits - the thought was appealing. She looked very natural against the sunset... it would make a very good picture, if he could do it right. And now he wanted to try.

He cleared his throat. "Um... well, that wasnt, uh... I mean, I didn't quite mean that, but now that you mention it, um... that would be good, too... if you, um... if you were okay with it, I mean. I think it would look good."

That is, if he could do such a painting justice. He loved using his watercolours but there was still so much he had to learn with them. He wondered if she would let him try. She probably would, he thought... it was her idea, after all, wasn't it? Then again, she had thought the idea was his... Cole didn't know. He waited for an answer but looked back to the lake, hoping its serenity would calm him down a little.

---

OOC Notes: