Kindling - The sketch

Of young Victor and Rose

Hi again Sparks!

Yes yes, I know. Supposed to be taking a break, can’t.

Regular programming will be resuming shortly, but commitmentssss… 22 weeks now, can’t miss one.

So, here’s some kindling, it fits into Victor’s story. I suppose he has been on my mind a lot lately.

Enjoy! And all the best for the New Year!

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Kindling | Sensory Overstim | The Sketch | More —> Coming soon…

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Her breath against the windowpane slightly dimmed the grey setting on the other side. It was raining again. It had been for days, and it didn't seem like it would be letting up any time soon. The city was bleak, even with the neon lights and holographic signs on twenty-four-seven, the lack of sunlight seemed to have drained all color from the world.

Victor looked at the graphite shafts in his pouch. The colored rods were all nearly full whereas the black and brown, were already less than half, and the grey one he held between his right fingertips was almost too short to be of much use anymore. This greyness had better pass soon or I'll have to get another set before long, he thought to himself as he added three quick lines to capture the graceful curve of her neck and shoulders. Two short strokes, and two more long curves finished off her small, elegant nose and her long dark chestnut ponytail. Her lips, soft and full, he shaded just along the edges with the pale light bouncing off with the raindrops. Reflected onto her cheek through the force fielded glass, it almost looked like a tear or two had escaped those profound and vivid eyes. Their richness was almost black until they saw the sun - it made them shine so brilliantly that Victor actually felt he could sympathize with history's arsonists. Having only once seen those eyes in the sunlight, he appreciated the seemingly insatiable lust for destruction, just to see that color, and he shared a fanatic’s dismay in the reality that it can only be seen in coal burning to ashes, and Rose’s sunlit eyes.

They were black now, but he picked up the orange and red graphite shafts anyway, and filled in her irises on the coarse parchment, the way he wished they were - the only color on the page.

This one he would have to frame.

A few deft smudges and a little extra detail here and there and it would be perfect.

"Can I get you anything, Doctor?" A sweet voice piped from right behind his ear, and a black line suddenly stretched from Rose’s nose right down between her shoulder blades to the middle of her back.

Ruined. Victor grimaced.

The question was posed by a certain young nurse who had been looking for a way to catch Victor’s eye since the first time she saw him. Her name was Molly. A petit sorority blonde who thought the essentials of life consisted of a credit card, lip-gloss and a push-up bra.

He turned to thank her for ruining his sketch and was met with a brilliant smile and the scent of strawberries.

Molly was pretty, long smooth legs, loose golden curls and big blue eyes, but it was her enthusiasm or over enthusiasm that put him off. She was bouncy.

Victor returned the smile, not attempting to hide any sarcasm that might shine through. "No, thank-you Molly. I was just about to get going, but thank-you again, and you have a nice day."

He quickly slipped what was left of his grey graphite into its slot and zipped up the compartment. Closed the sketch pad and packed both neatly into his briefcase before standing up to go.

He left Molly bereft, staring after him as he scanned his thumbprint to check out. Rose hadn’t moved a muscle.

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