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 Posted: Tue Nov 15, 2016 8:32 pm
Only a few day remained in the autumn season, or atleast that was what Ottolo was told. That didn't prevent the flowers on the edge of the outer Sanctum from billowing gently in the chilly breeze. It was that beauty, that elegance despite the cold air that had Ottolo nearly beg Zekiel to help him outside after their lunch. Layer after layer of warm blankets where placed over his legs and shoulders after he was in his wheel chair, and once the Acolyte was content with his clothing, they proceeded to go to the far edge of the property.
Sadly, Zekiel could not stay, for he had his afternoon duties, but that was entirely alright with the Windling. He had his sketchbook, his cozy blankets, and a small bag of snacks with him, more than enough to enjoy the last bits of sunlight before the grey of winter began to set in. Hardly any time had passed since he was freed from the basement room, and was able to greet the sun each morning. And this morning, he wanted nothing more than to keep that level of happiness and excitement So he sketched it.
He began with the gates, and the flowers beyond them. He sketched out the sky and the sun and the grass all around. Ottolo found himself so enraptured by the nature around him that he had near but completely found himself detached from the world, focusing on on the swaying leaves in the cold breeze.
Stereochrome Gah, I hope this works as an intro!
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Posted: Wed Nov 30, 2016 6:52 pm
Kapoodles yup! sorry that took a while, had to start a bunch of other stuff before the meta. x3
Anyway, he hadn’t thought much of it at the time. He’d been too busy trying to puzzle out why it was the acolyte was so eager to talk to him.
But in the days that had passed since, he hadn’t quite been able to get this mainlander out of his mind. He was curious, for one -- the only one he’d met thus far was the Oban, and based on Zekiel’s description, this fellow was not the same sort. More significantly, however, he sort of felt bad for the guy, cooped up as he might be. As someone who had the vast expanse of the darkest jungle to himself, staying in the cloistered sanctum sounded like a fairly unpleasant fate. Finally, there was the matter of drawing. Zekiel had said that this mainlander -- Ottolo, his name was -- drew to pass the time. Seemed odd to have something in common with a mainlander, but… well, there it was.
He found the boy at the edges of the sanctum, alone among the flowers. He watched him a while from behind the treeline. Then, with no obvious change to his expression, he moved out into the open, his steps soundless as usual. He walked up to the stanger’s wheelchair and stepped a few steps away, giving him a curious look-over.
He didn’t look much like the Oban, that was certain.
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