august mingle;

[thecommissary]

This is the general mingle log for August. Feel free to post open top levels for: new arrivals, job duties, general hanging out in common spaces, bonding with your block, and anything else you can think of. There will not be a catch all for the event, so you can put event starters here or in their own separate log!

Comments

[sampler]

i. The Common Room
Farrah's drawing, of course. He almost always is. But for the past few days, he's consistently picked a seat along the east wall for his hours-long sketching sessions. Each day he chooses a different table and he moves if someone demands it, but he's always as close to the east wall as he can manage. He doesn't refuse conversation either, and happily turns to a blank page to draw for someone should they ask. In fact, he casually flips to a clean page if anyone sits near him.

As soon as he's left alone, he's back to his quick drawings which cover the papers: gestures, body parts, animals, plants, sometimes combinations of them. Sometimes there are tattoos or scars visible, though the only faces he draws are staff. Sometimes there's a word or time scribbled beside the identifying marks before he shuffles that sheet to the back of the stack and begins a new one.

Nothing suspicious here. Just a guy obsessed with drawing, definitely not taking notes on things he hears and sees, what people are where and when. Pure coincidence that at the right angle, which happens to be along the east wall, one can see the door to the staff room.

ii. Dominion

"I know. I remember. Come back." The breeze carries the soft words up from the beach and into the treeline. Black footprints lead out of the forest towards the lake, where Farrah kneels at the shoreline. He leans over frequently to dip his fingertips in the inky lake then rises up again to paint swirls and scales along his bare arms and chest. Someone approaching gets barely a nod of greeting before he resumes his careful, focused fingerpainting.

Something moves in the water. The ripples are small and distant at first, then grow larger as whatever submerged creature is causing it nears the surface and picks up speed. Within moments, the wake crests so high and kick up so much whitewater it's tough to tell if it's merely waves or perhaps some part of the creature breaks the surface. It charges at the beach and will seemingly emerge in a matter of seconds.

"Yes!" Farrah throws his arms up in triumph, clearly unafraid, "Yes! There you are!"

[Farrah's dominion plotting comment is here.]


iii. Wildcard

[ Open to just about anything! His general cr/plotting comment is here if you want some inspo. Happy to switch to brackets if you prefer!]

[sharktrash]

Quite honestly, the sketch (heh) guy looks insane, at least to Squalo, who can't fathom staying in one place for more than five minutes and not falling asleep. Whatever he's doing, however, there seems to be a method to it, especially when he starts favoring one wall over the others.

Whatever Squalo can make out of his drawings actually look pretty good, however, so eventually he comes by, pulling one hand out of his pockets to gesture at the paper.

"Will you draw me?"

[sampler]

Farrah's eyes flick over to him as he approaches, then away to the clock on the wall. He notes the time, hiding it among some crosshatching, before putting down his pencil and shuffling that page to the back of his stack of paper. There's a smoothness to it as if it was simply time for a new sheet. Nothing to do with someone speaking to him, not at all.

There's no verbal answer and his expression doesn't change much, but he nods and gestures at the seat across from him. Then he's drawing again, laying out the basic ovals of a portrait with light strokes near the center of the page.

Their jumpsuits are the same bright orange. Farrah's certain he's seen him around -of course he'd notice someone with such unusual looks- but now he wishes this guy was already in his notes somewhere.

[sharktrash]

Squalo notices the glance at the clock, though he won't decipher the fact it's getting marked anywhere. Maybe the man just lost the sense of time, engrossed in his scribbles, or maybe there's something else going on -- all in due time.

He sits on the bench with an air of grace and smug superiority like a queen taking the throne, tosses his hair over his shoulder and turns to show what he probably considers his better side, resting an arm on the table. To his credit, he stays sort of still, though just a few moments his fingers start half-inadvertly tapping against the table surface, and he's moving his foot up and down, too.

"I've never posed before," he shares conversationally, apparently not particularly minding whether Farrah actually speaks back to him or not. "How long does it usually take?"

[sampler]

His brows twitch up in amusement as he settles in and poses. Not just sits to be drawn, but poses. Farrah adjusts his sketch to match and begins laying in the details of his face.

Then Squalo asks his favorite question. His pupils widen and the edges of his lips curl in a faint smile before he catches himself and returns to his indifferent expression.

"Depends." How long can he get him to sit there for? Is it a good idea to test his patience? No, probably not. Definitely not, in fact. But he can't help himself, and turns his focus from drawing the man's features to his hair instead. It's suddenly very important that he capture the exact angle and length of each strand, to copy the exact way it falls against his forehead and shoulders.

Even better, if he's twitchy now, Farrah might even be able pull a 'oh you moved too much, I have to start over'. That would make his day.

[sharktrash]

Clearly this kind of unquestionably evil shit is exactly why Farrah is in jail to begin with.

Luckily, Squalo has no clue of his nefarious ideas and is trying to have as good a time as he can, which is to say he's already getting a little bored.

"On what?"

He keeps strumming a rhythm with his fingers for a while longer, moves a leg, and finally tilts his head, making the small braid on the left slide forward. Yep, he's totally ruining it for himself. It's almost like he's on some sort of caffeine high, but it's just how he usually is.

[sampler]

"Quality," Farrah answers flatly. He could leave it at that. He could wait for the man to ask for elaboration... but no, he'll answer. No need to get too greedy.

"A better portrait-" he pauses, flicks his gaze back and forth between the braid and the drawing a few times, then sighs and turns his pencil around to carefully erase a couple lines so that he can draw the braid in its new position. "...requires more time."

The implication is of course, that he should want a good portrait, thus should remain. There's barely a face on the page. If he gives up so soon, all he'll have to show for it is a pretty good rendition of his hair with some vague ovals for his eyes, a triangle for his nose, and a curve where his mouth should be.