sewcreative (sewcreative) wrote in 20somethings, @ 2022-06-21 16:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | c: beau rosier, c: caleb o'leary, d: 2028 06, ~ complete, Ω: rp |
RP: Just a boy and his book
Who: Caleb O'Leary, OPEN
What: A strange place to sit
When: Tues 21st June
Where: Right outside The Creative Collection
Warnings: ? TBC,
Completion Status: Complete
The weather in the last few days had warmed up considerably and it had affected both the clothes Caleb was wearing and his state of mind. He didn't mind the heat too much, but it did brighten up and disrupt his way of thinking. He was happy, but kind of restless. He wanted a change of scene, wanted to do something different. Do something just because. But Trina needed him at the shop since it was her day off.
Etta was indoors, but he'd ended up sat outside, sat on a tiny cushion, his legs crossed and a bag by his side. His back was against the window and a tall reusable mug of half-drunk tea were by his side. He had casual summer trousers on, with white t-shirt, and a mushroom print shirt that he'd embroidered in several places with lots of bright coloured mushrooms to fill in parts of the design, plus scuffed white trainers. Trina would have sent him home to change, or tried to, but she wasn't around.
In Caleb's lap was his ideas book; a battered looking being progressively filled with ideas, designs, notes for projects and a few outright doodles. It was mostly the latter he was drawing today. He was letting his mind wander. He had reimagined passers by as any number of different flora. Drawn some as they appeared, but then added mushrooms and flowers growing from them and their clothes. They looked strange and somewhere between peaceful and deeply unsettling depending on the particular drawing and the eye of the beholder.
He had been drawing for some time, brushing off the odd passer by who stopped, or inviting them into the shop. Etta could call him if she needed him, but she probably wouldn't. At least he assumed so as he slouched back, his head resting against the shop window, mind starting to drift aimlessly as his eyes stared, unfocussed, into the middle distance.