Project time.
Monday, 2 April 2012 15:00![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouPainting! (Or, a test of whether or not it's really settled.)
2 April, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (74% full).
Devon is sitting at one of the communal computers, arms folded behind his head while he stares at a wordy document glowing stoically upon the screen.
There's the sound of footsteps from the stairwell, and then not long thereafter, Flint enters the breakroom. He's dressed for the moment in hand-me-downs taken from the closet in the cubroom, things that have already gotten paint and blood and who knows what else on them in the past that it doesn't matter if he gets more paint on them now. "Hey," is offered in greeting to Devon, as the Galliard walks over and pulls down the caution tape that's cordoning off the wall behind the computers. In his hand, Flint is carrying a medium-sized paint container, a paint tray, and a paint roller.
Devon's eyes lift up from the screen when Flint moves in behind the computers, watching the Galliard. His brows pull slightly, not quite a frown but close enough to mark confusion. However, he doesn't ask what the younger boy is doing, merely responds with a, "Sup," before lowering his gaze to the screen again.
Flint treads, overall, fairly carefully on the dropcloth that's been sitting about on the floor for weeks now. "Not. Not too much," Flint responds. "Is... would it be a problem if I got started on painting?" From one pocket, Flint pulls out his knife, to use to leverage open the can of primer.
"No," Devon answers. He raises his hand to manipulate the mouse, scrolling the screen down some. "Can always save my work and take off for a while."
Flint nods, kneeling down to pour some of the paint into the tray for the roller, and then moving over to start, from the corner. There's a set of focus and determination in Flint's expression, though he's not so focused on the task as to forget Devon's there. And, as promised, it smells. Like paint. "So... what're you up to?" Idle conversation, it would seem, as Flint begins to paint.
"Project Nieve-rhya gave me," Devon answers distractedly. "Studying strategies, tactics. Thinking of a fight like a big, chaotic game of tag is useless and dangerous. So I'm going to formulate how to take the more successful ideas used throughout history and find how to implement them into our structure."
Flint nods, methodically pushing the roller up and down the wall and every so often pausing to dip it in the paint. The thing having a handle seems to help, though the teen does have to tiptoe in order to reach the very top of the wall. "Sounds interesting," he answers, though with the tone of how he can understand that it might be interesting, rather than it being a topic of personal interest.
"I guess," Devon says. He scrolls his screen a bit further along, then picks up the pencil resting alongside a notebook on the table he's working at. "What're you up to?"
"Did I ever show you the sketches from, from the task for my Rite?" Flint asks, in between working on painting the wall. "This is for, part of the things for the memorial I'm working on."
2 April, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (74% full).
Devon is sitting at one of the communal computers, arms folded behind his head while he stares at a wordy document glowing stoically upon the screen.
There's the sound of footsteps from the stairwell, and then not long thereafter, Flint enters the breakroom. He's dressed for the moment in hand-me-downs taken from the closet in the cubroom, things that have already gotten paint and blood and who knows what else on them in the past that it doesn't matter if he gets more paint on them now. "Hey," is offered in greeting to Devon, as the Galliard walks over and pulls down the caution tape that's cordoning off the wall behind the computers. In his hand, Flint is carrying a medium-sized paint container, a paint tray, and a paint roller.
Devon's eyes lift up from the screen when Flint moves in behind the computers, watching the Galliard. His brows pull slightly, not quite a frown but close enough to mark confusion. However, he doesn't ask what the younger boy is doing, merely responds with a, "Sup," before lowering his gaze to the screen again.
Flint treads, overall, fairly carefully on the dropcloth that's been sitting about on the floor for weeks now. "Not. Not too much," Flint responds. "Is... would it be a problem if I got started on painting?" From one pocket, Flint pulls out his knife, to use to leverage open the can of primer.
"No," Devon answers. He raises his hand to manipulate the mouse, scrolling the screen down some. "Can always save my work and take off for a while."
Flint nods, kneeling down to pour some of the paint into the tray for the roller, and then moving over to start, from the corner. There's a set of focus and determination in Flint's expression, though he's not so focused on the task as to forget Devon's there. And, as promised, it smells. Like paint. "So... what're you up to?" Idle conversation, it would seem, as Flint begins to paint.
"Project Nieve-rhya gave me," Devon answers distractedly. "Studying strategies, tactics. Thinking of a fight like a big, chaotic game of tag is useless and dangerous. So I'm going to formulate how to take the more successful ideas used throughout history and find how to implement them into our structure."
Flint nods, methodically pushing the roller up and down the wall and every so often pausing to dip it in the paint. The thing having a handle seems to help, though the teen does have to tiptoe in order to reach the very top of the wall. "Sounds interesting," he answers, though with the tone of how he can understand that it might be interesting, rather than it being a topic of personal interest.
"I guess," Devon says. He scrolls his screen a bit further along, then picks up the pencil resting alongside a notebook on the table he's working at. "What're you up to?"
"Did I ever show you the sketches from, from the task for my Rite?" Flint asks, in between working on painting the wall. "This is for, part of the things for the memorial I'm working on."