Deagret Wyckland

Dec. 2, 2019, 6:59 p.m.

Hands are weird.

Tongue between her teeth, Deagret sat sideways in a large sapphire-colored armchair, pencil moving languidly as she sketched. Two older students sat at a table a ways away from her, and they'd never know, so she decided to draw them.

The redhead had caught them laughing, obviously distracted from studying, but the scene was inviting enough to draw and Dea knew she needed more practice with figures, so why the hell not?

She was just working on one of their smiles when she looked up to study them again, when she saw the blond boy kiss the other boy's hand with a soft look in his eyes, and her own went wide. Oh, she realized, and a blush began to stretch from her neck to the tips of her ears.

Part of her felt like she was invading on their privacy. The other part of her reasoned that artists rarely got a chance like this without being noticed.

And then she thought of what her mother might say. Don't be a snoop,, in that knowing tone of hers.

So, with a soft smile (because maybe someday someone would kiss her hand like that--at least, she hoped), Deagret turned the page in her sketchbook to give them some privacy. Instead, she decided on practicing hands, something she was utterly terrible at, and had been avoiding for quite a long time now.

Fingers were difficult, and wrists were, too. The fingers Deagret sketched were always too fat or too skinny, too long or too short, or just wonky in general. Wrists were much the same, with the proportions always looking off and funky for some unknown reason she couldn't quite place. But she couldn't get frustrated and give up like the many times she already had (or just completely excluded hands from her piece, which was actually pretty hard to accomplish). Not this time.

So she stuck the end of her (sadly) eraserless pencil in between her teeth as she decided and tried to figure out which angle was going to be the easiest to do this.

Another student sat down in the chair right next to hers, bumping somewhat rudely into her yellow sneaker clad feet and jostling her a bit. She frowned and let out an indignant "Hey! That was rude!" before looking up to see who the other student was. There was now a wonderfully odd line right in a place it should not be in, and Deagret wasn't having it.

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