Post by Shane {Naminé} on May 12, 2008 17:13:53 GMT -5
Username: Shane
Current canons: None
Canon you're auditioning for: Naminé {Memories Artist}
Media canon is from: Kingdom Hearts
Is the current canon taken?: No.
Audition post:
Thump thump. Thump thump.
The sound of a human heart, beating on. Always a steady pattern, be it fast or slow, or just as its supposed to be. Always echoing inside a person's chest, felt by hand or heard by ear. But once its broken, can it keep beating? Can it find the will to carry on? Can it be healed by the love of another?
A red colored pencil dragged across a sheet of clean white paper, coloring in the blonde artist's composition. Outline, outline, shade, shade, fill, fill. Occasionally she'd reach for the sharpener resting near her rainbow of pencils, shave off bits of her pencil, and continue coloring with a new, refined tip. Her strokes were heavy and dark, emphasizing the unspoken words of her piece. She raised the pencil from the page, looking over her art, satisfied.
She then returned the red pencil to its place in one of three pencil trays, part of a beautiful one-hundred twenty set of colored pencils. Her best friend had bought these pencils for her, and she had loved them everyday since. Scanning the colors with her cerulean blue eyes, she came across various shades of grey perfect for this piece. Outline, outline, shade, shade, fill, fill. She switched pencils every now and then, sharpening each as necessary, returning them to their places. She looked over her colors once more, and pulled out the peachy-skin tones along with white. Outline, outline, shade, shade, fill, fill. She then exchanged the white colored pencil for a black artist pen sitting nearby. With a few quick strokes and swirls, she signed at the bottom her name.
She was an artist, or at least could claim to be, and yet now she hated nothing so much as she hated her own works – her own drawings, kept sacred within the hard-backed book she held. As if prompted by her reflections of hatred on herself, the hand that held the pad – the left – unfurled, and deposited its precious burden on the table. Her right hand rose, reaching to peel back the dark green cover. There was an inscription on the first page, as if she really needed it.
“Memories. Naminé.”
Naminé turned the first page back and let the sluggish slip and slide of old paper fill the silent air. Silent except for her own breaths. A beautiful castle lay on the first page, breathtakingly drawn, each turret exquisite and perfect. The pastel colors seemed to blend together to make a slightly unreal look – a fairy tale castle come true. Fingers lifted the page aside, and on the next one perched a spiraling staircase, no handrails evident as it rose up into the sky, tinted with shades of indigo and blue.
Page after page the blonde turned, rooms of exquisite care, and worlds of strange origin grew before her eyes, each one odder and more unique than the last. Genies and princess, dragons and knights, they galloped across the pages and then faded away into the parchment once the page was done. Real enough to be real, one had to be more than an artist to draw with such perfection – but then again, that’s what Naminé was. More than just an artist.
Her fingers had a mind of their own, flipping through the colorful pictures absently, as if searching…searching for something they had not yet found. The slender girl began to tremble – she knew where her treacherous hands were taking her, and she had no desire to go where they would lead. Yet her fingers paid no heed to her mind, and only stopped, at last, at yet another picture…and yet this was like none before.
A duck clad in outlandish blue and white clothes, a hat set jauntily on his head, was frozen in the act of swinging his weapon down onto a shapeless black blob, his beak beginning to open as if to shout out a spell. Reproachful eyes glared at Naminé, as if the duck had known that the artist was drawing him even as he leaped. Naminé felt a small, very small, smile crease her face at the sight of the duck – it was not he who had caused her so much pain. Then off her fingers went, turning the page again.
A ‘dog’ stood in front of a shadowy being not unlike the one the duck had been braining. A shield was placed on his left arm, and a visor held open over his head. A lopsided, goofy grin was slid on his face, a strange grin that matched his odd clothing per piece. The eyes stared ahead; clearly oblivious to the strokes of the pen that had captured him on paper. Then Naminé’s eyes darkened, for she knew what page was next, yet still her fingers betrayed the blonde and turned the page with startling speed.
The dog and duck were no more, and instead a teenage boy was placed on the paper, his motion arrested in the middle of a jump downwards towards yet another of the dark creatures. Spiky brown hair pointed in every which way, strands leaping off towards every direction. A jacket hung loosely around him, and large puffy red shorts seemed to inflate as he jumped. His gloved hand held what looked like a giant key…a giant ‘key’ blade, if you would. Eyes that were a cobalt often called the color of the sky were filled with the keen concentration of the battle, and his mouth was opened slightly as if about to shout out a word of encouragement, or the traditional ‘eeYAH!’ of battle. Swinging from around his neck was a silver necklace bearing a crown, and a star-shaped pendant swung off from the end of his weapon.
Sora.
Her hand froze on this very page, a drawing of just Sora, keyblade in hand. How could she forget him? Of all people, she couldn't forget Sora. Having to restore his memories, there wasn't a way to forget someone like him. She couldn't forget what she had done to him.
Her hand that had been frozen on the page silently started to shake. Just enough that she looked up and noticed this little movement. But still, she didn’t want herself to break away from the page. She didn’t want to just put the book down and forget all about him or what happened. And yet, in the back of her mind there was someone that told her it was for the best. That perhaps she would be better off forgetting about the teen for the time being. Or at least putting the sketches away for a time.
And it was that part of her that willed her to slowly reach up and shut the book, setting it gingerly back down on the table in front of her. She forced her icy blue gaze away from the sketchbook and gently pushed back her chair, making a soft screech as it slid across the white floor. Now, bringing herself off the chair, Naminé turned away from the long white table, and made her way over to the pure white window.
Pulling back the pearl white curtains, the Memory Witch could see out across the lands of the old abandoned mansion. The usually locked gate standing not to far off in the distance had been creaked open slightly, though this hadn't been from Naminé's doing...In fact it had been like that for a while now. It had been opened by Sora so long ago. Shaking the thought away, Naminé kept her gaze out across the lands.
It wasn't as though was expecting someone, it was more of the fact that she felt she needed something to do to keep herself occupied for a time. Just her way to get the thoughts of the Keblade Wielder out of her head for a while.
Though, she could only hope someone would come visit her. If for the simple fact she hadn't heard from anyone for a few days now, and that was starting to bother her. Not too many had dared to visit the mansion for they feared it to be haunted.
Current canons: None
Canon you're auditioning for: Naminé {Memories Artist}
Media canon is from: Kingdom Hearts
Is the current canon taken?: No.
Audition post:
Thump thump. Thump thump.
The sound of a human heart, beating on. Always a steady pattern, be it fast or slow, or just as its supposed to be. Always echoing inside a person's chest, felt by hand or heard by ear. But once its broken, can it keep beating? Can it find the will to carry on? Can it be healed by the love of another?
A red colored pencil dragged across a sheet of clean white paper, coloring in the blonde artist's composition. Outline, outline, shade, shade, fill, fill. Occasionally she'd reach for the sharpener resting near her rainbow of pencils, shave off bits of her pencil, and continue coloring with a new, refined tip. Her strokes were heavy and dark, emphasizing the unspoken words of her piece. She raised the pencil from the page, looking over her art, satisfied.
She then returned the red pencil to its place in one of three pencil trays, part of a beautiful one-hundred twenty set of colored pencils. Her best friend had bought these pencils for her, and she had loved them everyday since. Scanning the colors with her cerulean blue eyes, she came across various shades of grey perfect for this piece. Outline, outline, shade, shade, fill, fill. She switched pencils every now and then, sharpening each as necessary, returning them to their places. She looked over her colors once more, and pulled out the peachy-skin tones along with white. Outline, outline, shade, shade, fill, fill. She then exchanged the white colored pencil for a black artist pen sitting nearby. With a few quick strokes and swirls, she signed at the bottom her name.
She was an artist, or at least could claim to be, and yet now she hated nothing so much as she hated her own works – her own drawings, kept sacred within the hard-backed book she held. As if prompted by her reflections of hatred on herself, the hand that held the pad – the left – unfurled, and deposited its precious burden on the table. Her right hand rose, reaching to peel back the dark green cover. There was an inscription on the first page, as if she really needed it.
“Memories. Naminé.”
Naminé turned the first page back and let the sluggish slip and slide of old paper fill the silent air. Silent except for her own breaths. A beautiful castle lay on the first page, breathtakingly drawn, each turret exquisite and perfect. The pastel colors seemed to blend together to make a slightly unreal look – a fairy tale castle come true. Fingers lifted the page aside, and on the next one perched a spiraling staircase, no handrails evident as it rose up into the sky, tinted with shades of indigo and blue.
Page after page the blonde turned, rooms of exquisite care, and worlds of strange origin grew before her eyes, each one odder and more unique than the last. Genies and princess, dragons and knights, they galloped across the pages and then faded away into the parchment once the page was done. Real enough to be real, one had to be more than an artist to draw with such perfection – but then again, that’s what Naminé was. More than just an artist.
Her fingers had a mind of their own, flipping through the colorful pictures absently, as if searching…searching for something they had not yet found. The slender girl began to tremble – she knew where her treacherous hands were taking her, and she had no desire to go where they would lead. Yet her fingers paid no heed to her mind, and only stopped, at last, at yet another picture…and yet this was like none before.
A duck clad in outlandish blue and white clothes, a hat set jauntily on his head, was frozen in the act of swinging his weapon down onto a shapeless black blob, his beak beginning to open as if to shout out a spell. Reproachful eyes glared at Naminé, as if the duck had known that the artist was drawing him even as he leaped. Naminé felt a small, very small, smile crease her face at the sight of the duck – it was not he who had caused her so much pain. Then off her fingers went, turning the page again.
A ‘dog’ stood in front of a shadowy being not unlike the one the duck had been braining. A shield was placed on his left arm, and a visor held open over his head. A lopsided, goofy grin was slid on his face, a strange grin that matched his odd clothing per piece. The eyes stared ahead; clearly oblivious to the strokes of the pen that had captured him on paper. Then Naminé’s eyes darkened, for she knew what page was next, yet still her fingers betrayed the blonde and turned the page with startling speed.
The dog and duck were no more, and instead a teenage boy was placed on the paper, his motion arrested in the middle of a jump downwards towards yet another of the dark creatures. Spiky brown hair pointed in every which way, strands leaping off towards every direction. A jacket hung loosely around him, and large puffy red shorts seemed to inflate as he jumped. His gloved hand held what looked like a giant key…a giant ‘key’ blade, if you would. Eyes that were a cobalt often called the color of the sky were filled with the keen concentration of the battle, and his mouth was opened slightly as if about to shout out a word of encouragement, or the traditional ‘eeYAH!’ of battle. Swinging from around his neck was a silver necklace bearing a crown, and a star-shaped pendant swung off from the end of his weapon.
Sora.
Her hand froze on this very page, a drawing of just Sora, keyblade in hand. How could she forget him? Of all people, she couldn't forget Sora. Having to restore his memories, there wasn't a way to forget someone like him. She couldn't forget what she had done to him.
Her hand that had been frozen on the page silently started to shake. Just enough that she looked up and noticed this little movement. But still, she didn’t want herself to break away from the page. She didn’t want to just put the book down and forget all about him or what happened. And yet, in the back of her mind there was someone that told her it was for the best. That perhaps she would be better off forgetting about the teen for the time being. Or at least putting the sketches away for a time.
And it was that part of her that willed her to slowly reach up and shut the book, setting it gingerly back down on the table in front of her. She forced her icy blue gaze away from the sketchbook and gently pushed back her chair, making a soft screech as it slid across the white floor. Now, bringing herself off the chair, Naminé turned away from the long white table, and made her way over to the pure white window.
Pulling back the pearl white curtains, the Memory Witch could see out across the lands of the old abandoned mansion. The usually locked gate standing not to far off in the distance had been creaked open slightly, though this hadn't been from Naminé's doing...In fact it had been like that for a while now. It had been opened by Sora so long ago. Shaking the thought away, Naminé kept her gaze out across the lands.
It wasn't as though was expecting someone, it was more of the fact that she felt she needed something to do to keep herself occupied for a time. Just her way to get the thoughts of the Keblade Wielder out of her head for a while.
Though, she could only hope someone would come visit her. If for the simple fact she hadn't heard from anyone for a few days now, and that was starting to bother her. Not too many had dared to visit the mansion for they feared it to be haunted.
I did post in shades of grey if anyone even remembers that lmao