(2018-11-02) Art for Art's Sake
Two artists in Cooperstown
Players:
wren..yazmin..

So Wren Blackmore was told, rather firmly, to go cool her jets. You would think being jobless, that's the last thing a girl should be doing. But there's something to be said about a girl who is still wallowing through a haze of… Difficult Things. The fog is heavy some mornings; heavier on certain days. It's never really gone. So like a light in the fog, calling her mental ship home… so too have her grandparents, seeing Wren's growing despondence, guided the girl back from the rocks. 'Go', they had bid; go be and go do.. for herself. Draw. Be around people. Just do anything but stress.

So Wren 'went'. Though Cooperstown happens to be a bittersweet place, it's still an enjoyable one for her. So many characters, so many fascinating structures. She's seated just off to the side on a portion of the boardwalk connecting the buildings, and large green eyes observe a pair of living history actors walking down the street in front of her. They are clearly off-shift, and an era 'banker' pulls a flask from his pocket. Wren sees this and with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that becomes a mere twitch of her lips, she lowers her head to look at a pad in her lap. It's a reasonably nice, seasonal day with the mid-afternoon sun up on high.

"You know that it doesn't draw itself" deadpans a woman's voice from behind, her body blocking the light before she steps out alongside the seated Wren. The tall woman has a backpack over one shoulder and her own drawing pad under her other arm. Her clothing is thrift shop casual. She peers over at the actors and then back down at Wren. "Drawing them?" A nod. "Could be interesting I guess…but if you don't start soon, they'll walk away."

The girl startles, her dark braid twitching between her shoulderblades. How—who…?! She just about drops her simple little mechanical pencil and if one looks closely over her shoulder, she has blocked in a human figure on the page, surrounded by the foundational scribbles to form the streetscape ahead. She has just enough to improvise with, but then she's so focused on someone talking to her that Wren simply lets the duo amble off. Wait.. they're going! Eyes fill her face as she perks like a curious cat, spies their departure… but…

She'll just have to fill in the blanks. Which she likes to do, really, because then their likeness becomes vague and ultimately hers to play with. Wren pulls further into her thick coat; it's some sort of padded bomber-style jacket that looks like it's seen many days. It's a few sizes too big too, engulfing a measure of her hips and leaving a pair of legs in tight denims to slide in closer to herself, anxiously.

"I think I have enough to go by.. a-ah.." She looks up at Yazmin, "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough" Yazmin shrugs before crouching down to peer at the page a little better. "I was interested in how someone else approached it. Framing and all that stuff. Whether you let the scene speak to you, or you were telling the scene what you wanted from it." A wry smile. "I probably should have given you more time."

That Wren is shy and dresses as poorly as she does, makes Yazmin a little less defensive around the other woman…which is good for both of them. She watches the pair walk away. "Life is an inspiration not a direction. They left…but they're still in your head. Right? You have plenty to go by." A pause. "Sorry, didn't mean to freak you out."

It's been awhile since she heard someone speak of art, as if they know what they're talking about. Understand it. Wren's fingers feel itchy and she moves her pencil from her right hand, into her left. Something about using her left hand for masking in details.. it works better than her right. To have observed Wren sketching, one will have seen her starting with her right hand.. moving seamlessly to left. The girl can use both!

"They.. they sort of gave me something. Lent me their moment in time for even just a second. So happens the guy was trying to sneak a drink o-of what I'm sure is booze and that's entirely for me to capture." Wren clears her throat, pauses again. "He's still in my head but I think I want to make him something other than a banker." Blink.. she looks up suddenly.

"D-do you live around here? Sorry, I don't even know your name.." She counters Yazmin's apology with one of her own! Something about how the other girl is dressed, indeed, drums up a like sense of reassurance in poor, anxious Wren.

"If you want to catch them doing something illegal, take a photo" Yazmin deadpans. "Drawings are about catching the meaning, not the act. They don't stand up in court. Way too objective. Yeah…make him something better. Make him what he wants to be, not what he is."

Yazmin glances around at the streets of Cooperstown. "Does anyone live here? Nah, I live in a trailer up in Ash. This is a long way to come…and I hope I haven't missed the last bus back. You're an ambi? Nice. Wish I could use both hands."

There was something else that Yazmin wasn't used to. Oh, yes, she was asked her name…sort of. "Yazmin" she states without much enthusiasm, offering her hand.

The girl looks up again from her work; it looks like she's turning the man on the page into something altogether different, indeed. Is that a… robe of sorts? Where is she going with this? Wren shimmies her narrow arse sideward a bit to allow room for Yaz to seat herself if she's inclined. One slender, slightly chilly hand lifts to grasp that of the other girl's and give it a shake. "Wren." Said easily… if some hippy dippy gave her a bird's name, Wren doesn't seem at all bothered by it. She listens with interest to where Yazmin came from and another layer of nerves seems to fall away some. "Um…" Blink, a glance to the street, back to the taller young lady.

"I drove here… I can carry you back if you're worried." Is offered, "I'm over Mesa Dorado way. Really close by actually."

After some brief consideration, Yazmin will sit down next to Wren, placing her own pad on her lap and opening up a blank page to draw as they chat. A pencil produced form her backpack. "You live out in the wild?" she teases lightly as she starts to sketch. "Must be pretty cool out there. All alone. Quiet. I mean, there are dangers, but it's probably better than the floor of a crowded trailer."

A quirk of her brow at the offer of a lift. "You hardly know me" she teases, "What if I'm a mad killer? What if you are?" Yazmin draws in some perspective lines as she starts on the building across the road. "Sure, I'll take the lift. Thanks."

She did sound pretty silly, right? Offering a ride to someone she has never known before ten minutes ago?! Wren flushes a bit and looking back down to her subject, starts fleshing out more of the street around him. She instead addresses talk of where she comes from, and her lips quirk just slightly at their corners. "Sometimes it feels that way… Grampa built close to the wild. But it's as peaceful as one would hope. It's off of a major road so we're not too hickish." Said with a glimmer of amusement. "I really hope it wasn't, like.. too presumptuous of me to offer… I mean, you're an artist. That automatically gets you into my good books—"

She blinks, ".. m-maybe that just sounds creepier. I mean, I'm the least of your worries. The only thing I can kill are bugs. And with how quiet you were, if you were to off me, you could've done it a few times over. I'm not worried about driving you home." Wren is trying to be funny, but it seems like she's not used to injecting humor into her behavior. Lest she exhaust herself she sees fit to ask onwards, "You lived here all your life?" Now she's trying to place Yaz; they seem close in age.

"Nah, not presumptuous." Yazmin dismisses the concern with her tone. "You seem nice. I'm sure I'll be fine" she continues to deadpan. "Artists unite and all that, right?" She peers over at what Wren is working on and nods, impressed. "Nice. You're good too."

"I've heard a lot creepier from a lot creepier people" Yazmin smirks. "I lived in Calaveras all my life. As far as I remember anyway. Went to school here…occasionally." She peers at Wren. "Did we go to school together? I kept to myself mostly. Easier to not kill anyone that way. I'm at UCC now. Got one of those affirmative action scholarships. I should be in class now but…this is better."

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