sarah grant 🇺🇸 [steve rogers] (charcoal) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2017-08-31 22:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, r * laura, r: sarah grant |
WHO: Sarah Grant
WHEN: eh last week sometime
WHERE: a bench by the river
SUMMARY: Sarah draws something familiar.
WARNINGS: Nah.
Her pencil scratched over the surface of her sketchbook, a gentle breeze ruffling her hair. Though she was comfortable picking up a pen or pencil just about anywhere, her all-time favorite spot to do it was anywhere outside. There was something about immersing herself in the smells and sounds of the outdoors that helped her relax and really tune into what she was seeing. The clouds overhead threatened to cut her late-morning drawing session short, but until the sky opened up, Sarah was content to stay there by the river. Despite how much she regularly missed New York City, she found herself really feeling settled in Dunhaven. She suspected she’d always miss New York, no matter how long she was gone or where she lived, but Dunhaven had become home, too. The town was sleepy, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Sarah liked the sense of community and camaraderie. It was different -- New York City’s opposite in many ways -- but Sarah didn’t think she’d ever really learn much about herself if she stayed in the same place all her life. One raindrop fell on her head, and then another on the page she was working on. Sarah finally glanced at what she was drawing -- a monkey on a unicycle -- and shook her head. It was similar to one she’d drawn in a dream she’d had recently, only it was still missing something, and she couldn’t remember what. For days, she hadn’t been able to get the image out of her head, and she still didn’t know why. If she focused hard, she remembered feeling hopeless in the dream, like she had lost her way and couldn’t find her way back, no matter how hard she tried. She remembered feeling worthless. Neither of those sensations were something Sarah felt often, at least not anymore, so it was unusual for either to be so much at the forefront of her mind. She could still smell the wet earth, she could hear voices nearby, she could feel the cold seeping into her pants and shoes. Or maybe that was just the current weather. “Damn.” She huffed and stood up, closing her sketchbook and holding it close against her so it wouldn’t get wet. Next time, she’d have to remember to bring an umbrella. An umbrella. Sarah chuckled. That was what the monkey was missing. It’d had an umbrella in her dream. It was so random; there had to be a reason behind it. Maybe it was something she’d seen? she thought as she ran towards her car. A few hours later, sitting in front of her computer, she figured out why it seemed so familiar: Captain America had drawn the same thing in his first movie. It probably wasn’t the first time she’d unconsciously picked up on something she’d watched or seen, and then put it into her own art somehow. Artists picked things up from each other all the time, and sometimes she did have dreams that were vivid enough that she could remember sensations. Like that one she’d had of Charlize Theron from that new movie she was in. She shivered. Now that was a hell of a dream. She just couldn’t remember when the last time she’d seen the monkey’s source material, and that was the thought that stayed with her the rest of the day. |