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xp_logs2009-02-24 08:17 pm
x-cynosure.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2009-02-24 08:17 pm
Shiro and Jean-Paul - Backdated to Tuedsay night
Jean-Paul hides out in Shiro's room and they discuss art.
Showing up on the doorstep of someone you had an interest in, and yet, no intention of making a move on with wine in hand was not the brightest of decisions, but Jean-Paul had rather cornered himself. Lil was stalking about with a definite Do Not Touch air, Scott was recuperating, Morgan's couch was no longer available, he drew the line at imposing on students, and Nate was the one he was looking to avoid in the first place. Shiro's couch it was.
Still, he did enjoy Shiro's company for his own sake; this would be anything but a hardship. If he kept his wits about him, it would be fine. No drinking for himself and he'd brought papers to grade if he absolutely needed to disengage. Confidence more or less bolstered, he knocked at the door.
Although the school had a tendency to make the impossible probable, a friendly knock at the door to the suite that Shiro and Tommy shared was still not a common occurrence, and it took a minute before Shiro realized what it was. He put his art book down and opened the door, almost doing a double-take when he saw his visitor. "Mister Beaub . . . Jean-Paul. Hello. Come in."
"You may want to hold back that offer," Jean-Paul said, even as he stepped over the threshold. "I'm seeking sanctuary for the night. Some of Nathan's bedroom furniture has inexplicably sprouted a coat of purple paint and it is probably best if I'm not in my suite for whatever vengeance he deems appropriate."
"I would ask but I think that I am afraid of the answer." Shiro shut the door and immediately started piling up the books and pencils strewn over the coffee table. "I apologize for the mess. We do not usually entertain." His definition of mess was certainly a strange one, as aside from his current work area, the common room was immaculate.
"What are you working on? Ah, here." Jean-Paul untucked the bottle of Merlot from beneath his arm. "Inviting myself over is rude enough without showing up empty-handed."
The gift was accepted with a slight hesitation. Not that it wasn't appreciated, but the surprise of something so nice unsettled Shiro. "Oh. Thank you. I do not think Tommy will mind, he keeps mostly to himself." He put the wine in the refrigerator, not knowing the proper way to keep it. "I was just preparing a sketch for my portfolio. I need to have twelve pieces completed before May, and I have only completed one so far that I like."
"Would you mind showing me? I knew you were taking art classes, but I haven't seen any of your work yet." Even if he hadn't been looking for distractions, Jean-Paul was genuinely curious to see Shiro's aesthetic. He'd read some manga in his vetting of graphic novels and, though he knew the style was not entirely simplistic or all overly cute, he had a hard time seeing Shiro following it.
Shiro was never one to be humble or embarrassed about his work, but he felt a sudden fit of shyness at Jean-Paul's request. "It may not be that good." But he gestured to the book he'd been working on. The first page was a five-panel comic, each scene depicting an emaciated but handsome middle-aged man in bright orange robes. "The Buddha," he explained.
"Before the Enlightenment?" The linework of the comic's scenery was solid with bold shadows and was nearly monochromatic, while the figure itself had taken shape in more delicate lines and muted colors, save for the robes, which drew the eye with their brightness and seemed to illuminate each panel. "It is striking."
"Thank you. And yes. I have tried to draw him after nehan, but I cannot quite capture him." Shiro brushed an errant strand of hair behind his hear. "I do not think my professors appreciate such drawings. They ask for something personal and do not understand that for me, this is."
"Where is Shiro in this? Show me." He half-smiled. "If you can get it through to me, it should be no problem with anyone else." The stubborn lock of hair had quietly curled back into place along Shiro's cheekbone. It was a detail that he should not have noticed. He should have thought about what he was doing before he brushed it back into place, but thought and action were often one with speedsters. Jean-Paul kept his gaze on the comic and tried to pretend that it had been nother, and that the faint, living warmth of Shiro's skin wasn't lingering against his fingertips.
'Think of grading. Think of how many points you're going to dock for the next person who slips up and uses 'leet' in a paper.'
On reflex Shiro took a half-step back to avoid the sudden approach until he remembered that he wasn't under attack. "What ought I do?" he asked, turning his attention back to the comic as well. "Replace the Buddha's face with my own? This is what is significant to me. The struggle for transcendence over the mundane. Over ignorance. I just think that they do not appreciate my focus on traditional imagery rather than the modern."
"Sorry," Jean-Paul said as Shiro drew back. "Reflex."
Liar.
"It could also be lack of familiarity with the associated mythology," Jean-Paul went on. "Though, really, that explanation should be enough. The style is very in keeping with the motivation...the subject seeking to remake himself among shadows that seem to define reality. Are you going to change the style of Buddha once he moves past the self-mortification stage?"
"I do not know. I have made a few sketches of him enlightened, but none of them seem right." Shiro shrugged and flipped the pages, showing half-finished drawings of the Buddha in various ritual poses. Japanese characters were written angrily below each picture, as if Shiro had furiously criticized each one before he was even done. "He is generally portrayed as healthy and fit again but I just cannot get that look of complete serenity. I suppose because I have rarely experienced such feelings myself."
Jean-Paul made a quiet sound of agreement. Whereas the emaciated Buddha was driven, the half-finished enlightened Buddhas were not just lacking serenity, they looked blank. Empty of any emotion without their quest. "The urge to psychoanalyze is almost unbearable," the older mutant teased.
"I am sure we would both prefer that you do not," was Shiro's wry reply, and he found himself desperately wanting to change the subject. "What did you do to Dayspring anyway that warrants fleeing? Why purple paint? Aren't you a little old for pranks?" He hadn't forgot Nathan haunting him telekinetically a few years ago, but Shiro never considered him all there mentally in the first place, not like Jean-Paul.
"Too old for pranks, never too old for revenge." Jean-Paul smirked. "He dropped a bucket's worth of purple paint on my head and insisted that it was my own fault for not being fast enough to move out of the way in time. So now the telepath's bedroom is purple and it is his own fault for not sensing my intentions. I suspect I may wind up coming home to pink walls, but it is worth it."
"I suspect your intentions are not always simple to discern," Shiro retorted.
Showing up on the doorstep of someone you had an interest in, and yet, no intention of making a move on with wine in hand was not the brightest of decisions, but Jean-Paul had rather cornered himself. Lil was stalking about with a definite Do Not Touch air, Scott was recuperating, Morgan's couch was no longer available, he drew the line at imposing on students, and Nate was the one he was looking to avoid in the first place. Shiro's couch it was.
Still, he did enjoy Shiro's company for his own sake; this would be anything but a hardship. If he kept his wits about him, it would be fine. No drinking for himself and he'd brought papers to grade if he absolutely needed to disengage. Confidence more or less bolstered, he knocked at the door.
Although the school had a tendency to make the impossible probable, a friendly knock at the door to the suite that Shiro and Tommy shared was still not a common occurrence, and it took a minute before Shiro realized what it was. He put his art book down and opened the door, almost doing a double-take when he saw his visitor. "Mister Beaub . . . Jean-Paul. Hello. Come in."
"You may want to hold back that offer," Jean-Paul said, even as he stepped over the threshold. "I'm seeking sanctuary for the night. Some of Nathan's bedroom furniture has inexplicably sprouted a coat of purple paint and it is probably best if I'm not in my suite for whatever vengeance he deems appropriate."
"I would ask but I think that I am afraid of the answer." Shiro shut the door and immediately started piling up the books and pencils strewn over the coffee table. "I apologize for the mess. We do not usually entertain." His definition of mess was certainly a strange one, as aside from his current work area, the common room was immaculate.
"What are you working on? Ah, here." Jean-Paul untucked the bottle of Merlot from beneath his arm. "Inviting myself over is rude enough without showing up empty-handed."
The gift was accepted with a slight hesitation. Not that it wasn't appreciated, but the surprise of something so nice unsettled Shiro. "Oh. Thank you. I do not think Tommy will mind, he keeps mostly to himself." He put the wine in the refrigerator, not knowing the proper way to keep it. "I was just preparing a sketch for my portfolio. I need to have twelve pieces completed before May, and I have only completed one so far that I like."
"Would you mind showing me? I knew you were taking art classes, but I haven't seen any of your work yet." Even if he hadn't been looking for distractions, Jean-Paul was genuinely curious to see Shiro's aesthetic. He'd read some manga in his vetting of graphic novels and, though he knew the style was not entirely simplistic or all overly cute, he had a hard time seeing Shiro following it.
Shiro was never one to be humble or embarrassed about his work, but he felt a sudden fit of shyness at Jean-Paul's request. "It may not be that good." But he gestured to the book he'd been working on. The first page was a five-panel comic, each scene depicting an emaciated but handsome middle-aged man in bright orange robes. "The Buddha," he explained.
"Before the Enlightenment?" The linework of the comic's scenery was solid with bold shadows and was nearly monochromatic, while the figure itself had taken shape in more delicate lines and muted colors, save for the robes, which drew the eye with their brightness and seemed to illuminate each panel. "It is striking."
"Thank you. And yes. I have tried to draw him after nehan, but I cannot quite capture him." Shiro brushed an errant strand of hair behind his hear. "I do not think my professors appreciate such drawings. They ask for something personal and do not understand that for me, this is."
"Where is Shiro in this? Show me." He half-smiled. "If you can get it through to me, it should be no problem with anyone else." The stubborn lock of hair had quietly curled back into place along Shiro's cheekbone. It was a detail that he should not have noticed. He should have thought about what he was doing before he brushed it back into place, but thought and action were often one with speedsters. Jean-Paul kept his gaze on the comic and tried to pretend that it had been nother, and that the faint, living warmth of Shiro's skin wasn't lingering against his fingertips.
'Think of grading. Think of how many points you're going to dock for the next person who slips up and uses 'leet' in a paper.'
On reflex Shiro took a half-step back to avoid the sudden approach until he remembered that he wasn't under attack. "What ought I do?" he asked, turning his attention back to the comic as well. "Replace the Buddha's face with my own? This is what is significant to me. The struggle for transcendence over the mundane. Over ignorance. I just think that they do not appreciate my focus on traditional imagery rather than the modern."
"Sorry," Jean-Paul said as Shiro drew back. "Reflex."
Liar.
"It could also be lack of familiarity with the associated mythology," Jean-Paul went on. "Though, really, that explanation should be enough. The style is very in keeping with the motivation...the subject seeking to remake himself among shadows that seem to define reality. Are you going to change the style of Buddha once he moves past the self-mortification stage?"
"I do not know. I have made a few sketches of him enlightened, but none of them seem right." Shiro shrugged and flipped the pages, showing half-finished drawings of the Buddha in various ritual poses. Japanese characters were written angrily below each picture, as if Shiro had furiously criticized each one before he was even done. "He is generally portrayed as healthy and fit again but I just cannot get that look of complete serenity. I suppose because I have rarely experienced such feelings myself."
Jean-Paul made a quiet sound of agreement. Whereas the emaciated Buddha was driven, the half-finished enlightened Buddhas were not just lacking serenity, they looked blank. Empty of any emotion without their quest. "The urge to psychoanalyze is almost unbearable," the older mutant teased.
"I am sure we would both prefer that you do not," was Shiro's wry reply, and he found himself desperately wanting to change the subject. "What did you do to Dayspring anyway that warrants fleeing? Why purple paint? Aren't you a little old for pranks?" He hadn't forgot Nathan haunting him telekinetically a few years ago, but Shiro never considered him all there mentally in the first place, not like Jean-Paul.
"Too old for pranks, never too old for revenge." Jean-Paul smirked. "He dropped a bucket's worth of purple paint on my head and insisted that it was my own fault for not being fast enough to move out of the way in time. So now the telepath's bedroom is purple and it is his own fault for not sensing my intentions. I suspect I may wind up coming home to pink walls, but it is worth it."
"I suspect your intentions are not always simple to discern," Shiro retorted.