Who: Davina Claire & Grantaire What: Meeting and Chatting about Art When: Backdated: Friday, April 25th. Late Afternoon/Early Evening Where: A Cafe near the Art Studio Rating: Family Friendly Status: Complete
Since the move, Davina had been fitting in fairly well. She liked school and her teachers and may not have had a bunch of friends, but she didn’t mind that so much. Of course she would have liked to have some friends, but at the moment after school she would head over to The Art Studio for classes. Sure, she took art classes at school, but those weren’t the same as the various classes she could take outside of school. When her and Marcel had first looked at the website, Davina had had a hard time trying to figure out what classes she wanted to sign up for, but eventually she figured it out, considering she could take more during the summer.
Marcel had told her he’d be a little late picking her up after her art classes that day, so they had planned for her to wait for him at a cafe a block away. Walking into the cafe, Davina made sure that she wouldn’t hit anyone or anything with her bag, which held her art supplies then got in line and glanced up at the menu to try and decide what she wanted.
Supplies. Grantaire was in desperate need of supplies. He’d been putting it off for as long as he could, but in the end, the need for base paints and charcoals won and the artist was stuck leaving the apartment. Well, it was probably a good thing. There had been a terse conversation the day before. About what, who knew. It was just a normal day and Grantaire had laughed it off, mocked his roommate as was normal then locked himself in his room and studio. So getting out was good.
The first stop was the music shop. He needed new guitar strings as well as a few pics. Never could have enough of those. The next stop was the art store. He was a regular there, so after seeing what was new, what he could afford and what he needed, Grantaire made his purchases, along with a new sketchpad just because and debated where to go next.
Which was how he ended up at the nearby cafe. He wasn’t planning on running into anyone. Just drink his coffee and sketch. Hands stained with paint, Grantaire was lost in his sketching, completely focused on the pencils and paper.
After getting her frappe and a scone, Davina looked around for an empty table to hang out at until Marcel got there when she spotted a man with a sketch pad in front of him. As an aspiring artist, Davina had a tendency to become a little nosey when she saw someone else doing anything art related. Maneuvering around two tables, she came up beside the man, trying not to hover and make it obvious that she’d come over to see what he was doing, but most of the time Davina wasn’t as subtle as she thought she was.
It took Grantaire three minutes to realize that there was someone hovering over him. The question was, why was someone hovering over him? Enjolras was at court or class or something like that and while he didn’t know Courf’s schedule, he had a feeling the actor would have just made his presence known.
“Can I help you?”
The question was asked without looking up, Grantaire still sketching a couple on a bench across the street. He liked the way the angle of the sun and the shadows it was casting, which was why his gaze flickered between them and his sketch pad at the moment instead of the girl standing behind him.
As Davina’s gaze had fallen over the sketch, she had been transfixed and almost hadn’t realized that he’d spoken to her. When his question finally registered, her cheeks flushed and she took a step back, almost spilling her drink, “Oh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop. I just….I saw you drawing and I was curious. I’m really sorry for bothering you.” She made sure that her bag hadn’t hit anything behind her as she’d moved back, “That’s a really good sketch. I’ll leave you alone though.” She hoped the guy wasn’t mad, because she didn’t know what she’d do if he got angry at her for snooping over his shoulder.
The rambling was what caught Grantaire’s attention so that he actually looked up from what he was doing. She looked so… well, he wasn’t all that sure but really, he wasn’t mad. Just confused at this point. Which was why he chuckled some and shook his head.
“It’s fine.”
Then the compliment on the sketch, which caused him to look back at said sketch. It wasn’t his best, it had been more a passing whim to sketch, though he supposed it wasn’t terrible either.
“Thanks.”
It was then he seemed to recognize her. The girl who was freaking out about nude models. Right then. So she was an artist as well, or an aspiring one. It was always so hard to tell. But it also made sense. He knew The Art Studio was nearby.
“You’re the kid who goes to the Art Studio and was freaking out about the nude model, right?” Just to cover his bases in case he was wrong.
The last thing Davina had expected was to be recognized and by someone else from Valarnet, not doubt; at least she assumed he’d recognized her from there since that was the only place she’d actually spoken out about her worry that when they reached the point of drawing the human body, the models would be nude. “Um.. yeah.” Her eyes had widened slightly, but she nodded, “They won’t be though. I asked.” She cringed slightly as she spoke, realizing that she must have sounded like a complete dork, “I’m Davina.” She figured that she should at least introduce herself, seeing as she’d basically intruded on the other man’s privacy and all.
“Doubted they would be once you said there were teens involved in the class. Grantaire.” It was all he gave in way of an introduction. She definitely seemed to be feeling out of place and that was something the artist was well familiar with. He just was good at making himself at home, be it by being loud and obnoxious or whatever else worked depending on the situation.
“You can sit if you want. I don’t bite.”
Davina hesitated for a moment before she moved around to the other side of his table and sat down, first setting her drink and scone on the table then her bag, neatly on the floor, out of the way so no one would trip over it, “It’s nice to meet you. That’s a really interesting name. What’s its origin?” Having a not so common name herself, Davina was often curious about other uncommon named when she heard them and she hoped Grantaire didn’t mind her questions.
If there was one thing Grantaire was used to, it was the reaction to his name. Being in America, it made sense. Besides, he would always prefer taking his mother’s maiden name as opposed to the name of his asshole father. Not that he was even a father anymore.
“French. Mother’s maiden name.” Shrugging, Grantaire picked up his coffee and took a drink, only then realizing he had let it go cold. No matter. It was more a buy it so that he could use the table for his sketching and less for actual drinking purposes.
“Yours is interesting as well.”
Well now she was curious as to what his first name was if he went by his last name, but she didn’t want to be too nosey. Well, not too much more that is. “Have you been to France? I’m from New Orleans. The French Quarter, to be more precise.” While Davina did miss New Orleans at times, she was enjoying getting the chance to see and do new things in California.
“Thank you. I’m not entirely sure where my parents got it from.” Davina didn’t really remember much about her parents since she was taken into state custody at a fairly early age and had never really had a desire to know much about them. “I do like that it’s not very common though.”
“Nah, grew up in New York before moving to San Francisco when I was a kid. Then I came down here.” Which was really all that needed to be said on that matter. He’d wanted to get to New York but here he was. Still in Orange County, in love with the the most emotionally unavailable man in the world, or close to. It was a curse.
“I’ve always been interested in visiting New Orleans, though.”
Grantaire nodded as she mentioned liking her name even if she didn’t know where it was from. Some people didn’t know the origins, and that was fine.
“Always important.”
“I loved it there. There’s so much culture and always something something on,” A lot of events that went on in New Orleans took place in bars and lots of drinking happened, but Davina had always been able to find something to do that wasn’t all about alcohol. Besides, Marcel probably wouldn’t be too happy with her if he ever caught her drinking before she was old enough and the last thing she wanted to do was disappoint him, “We’d probably still be there now if my foster father hadn’t been offered a job out here.” Davina had been excited to move and have a change of scenery when Marcel had been offered the Paralegal job in Orange County, “I’d love to go to New York someday though.”
Bars, things to do, of course New Orleans would call to Grantaire. Really, he did need to find the money to go visit. Get out of Orange County, live some. It was easier to visit New York with Margot there. He could just stay with his sister there and not have to worry about hotels or renting an apartment.
“New York’s great, my sister went back so sometimes I visit her. But hey, follow where the job goes. And I guess Orange County isn’t completely bad. Just a different feel.”
They were close enough to Los Angeles for the culture there, and it was in the middle of things to do depending on interests.
“If you ever get a chance, go up to Berkeley. Good artist town.”
“Maybe I can get Marcel to take me this summer.” Davina knew that Marcel would do practically anything for her, but she had never wanted to take advantage of that fact. She didn’t want him to ever think that she was using him for anything. Davina had been in his care for the last three years, but they had known each other longer and she was still grateful to him for applying to be her foster father when her former foster parents had decided to move and start their own family, “Is there anything else I should be sure to see if I go?”
“You can always check out the university up there. Plan for your future, that sort of thing.” If anything, it would be as good an excuse as any to go up there. “A lot of the shops and artist colonies are near the school as it is.”
It was a place he almost could have gone to. If it hadn’t been so close to home and his father. Good street kids, but he doubted she would care about that. If he could have stayed there instead of getting dragged back to San Francisco and his father, he would have loved to. But that hadn’t been in his cards and so Grantaire was here. Life had its own way of working out supposedly.
Davina nodded as she listened, eating a bit of her scone, “I’ve already got so many schools I’ve been looking at for the last few years.” Almost as soon as she’d started high school, Davina had been looking at various colleges and had quite the extensive list at home. For the longest time she hadn’t even been sure she would be able to go to college, but with Marcel there was no question about whether or not she’d be going to college, “Did you learn to draw in school or have you always had the talent?”
“Options are important. That’s what they tell you and it has some merit.” Supposedly. Grantaire figured it more had to do with what people wanted to do, and that was how they determined if numerous schools was a good thing. If anything, people had better chances of getting into at least one of their choices if there were numerous ones. But UCBerkeley was a good school.
“It’s something I’ve always done since I was a kid. Never lost its appeal.” Shrugging, Grantaire quirked a brow, “What about you? What got you into art?”
“I’ll probably use this summer to sit down and sort through them all and figure out which ones are realistic.” Davina was just finishing up her Junior year at Laguna Beach High, so she still had some time to decide on what colleges she was going to apply to. She knew that she had a better chance at some than others, but Marcel always told her that if she put her mind to it then she could do anything she wanted, including getting into certain schools.
“I don’t really remember. I know I used to color a lot when I was little, but it was my previous foster mother who got me art supplies. Like real art supplies.” There was a lot about her early childhood that Davina didn’t really remember, but she did remember when she had really started to take an interest in drawing and art.
A short nod was given to the comment of sorting through all the schools to see what was realistic and what wasn’t. Kid seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, he remembered classmates going for the most unlikely schools and then getting upset and having no back up plan. Of course they were all over achievers and Grantaire was the opposite of that.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
And foster care. That explained it. He’d known some kids who were in the foster system and they had tended to grow up faster than others. But it made sense in a way. He’d heard horror stories, there were the good ones as well, but he wouldn’t know. Not that his father ever was there before he’d been disowned. They all had their burden to cares.
“Hmm. Well, it’s a good way to express yourself, no matter the age.”
Davina smiled and took a sip of her drink before nodding, “It is. Do you use other mediums?” Davina had so many markers and pencils and paints and even clay around the house that she’d had two boxes of art supplies during the move. However, with the larger house there had been plenty of space for her to store everything and there was still more than enough space for more supplies.
“My main focus is painting, acrylics mostly. Sometimes charcoal. And well, sketching.” He figured guitar and singing fell under a different avenue of art for her, and her focus was on the visual arts as well. “But sometimes sculpture.” All of his supplies were in his room. Space was limited. But that was life. He had given up on his coffee, it had long gone cold from having been lost in his sketching before the interruption. That and he’d mostly purchased it just so he could sit there and not be considered loitering. It had a good view for people watching.
“I haven’t tried sculpting yet. I bought some clay before we left New Orleans, but I haven’t had a chance to try it out yet. Do you have any advice for someone new to sculpting?” The screen on her phone lit up, showing a text from Marcel, simply saying that he was on his way and Davina responded with a quick, okay, knowing it would still be a little while before he got there, so she still had time to talk to Grantaire before her foster father arrived.
“Be patient is probably key, don’t be afraid to make mistakes. The wetness of the clay will play an important part, have an idea of what you want to create and keep air out of the clay if you’re going to fire it in a kiln.”
They were very basic tips because it was hard to know what type of clay she was working with or what she had in mind. Techniques were built through experience, as well as being comfortable with the clay in general. Too soft a touch and nothing happening, too hard a touch and it would collapse within itself. As fun as spontaneous art could be, clay work tended to need at least some direction to it.
Davina listened intently, nodding as Grantaire spoke, “Thanks. I’ll keep all of that in mind. I think after this class I’m currently taking, I’ll take a sculpture one. I might try sculpting on my own first, but I definitely want to learn proper techniques too.” She finished off her scone and wiped her fingers before balling up the napkin.
“No problem. And go for it. If you have the opportunity to take a class, do it.” Different techniques, people who actually knew how to explain what to do instead of Grantaire just rambling off random things he tried to keep in mind when he did his random sculptures. Well admittedly Grantaire was prone to rambling often, usually thanks to whatever alcohol he was drinking and conversation at hand. But with only words at the moment, he stuck with the basics.
Art classes. Sometimes he missed them, they had been the only classes he had bothered to attend while in school, but Grantaire also didn’t conform to classes and work schedules all that well.
Davina smiled, nodding, “Admittedly, I want to take every class they offer.” Anything art related, Davina wanted to do it. She also enjoyed visiting art museums and seeing what other artists had done, but among all things, she enjoyed doing it herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marcel’s car pull up to the curb outside and she reached for her bag, “That’s my foster father. It was really nice to meet you, Grantaire. Sorry again for being so nosey.”
“Nothing wrong with that, figure out where your strengths are, all that.” And then the foster father showed up. Despite what he had heard of the system, usually horror stories to keep him in place, Grantaire could see she was actually cared for and given different opportunities. Which was good. So he nodded and gave a slight wave.
“No problem, kid. It was good meeting you as well.” Well, officially. They had talked on the network. It was strange that it had involved him talking to more people than he usually would. Interesting.