Inktobertale Day 20: Pastries
The view outside the window was painted with fire, in the cosiest, most gentle way possible. Crisp autumn leaves carpeted the ground, auburn and burgundy and a million other shades, a mosaic of warmth. The sky was alight with the last flames in a hearth, the clouds outlined in shifting gold like embers as the sun slowly crept towards the horizon. And it was all contained behind the glass, framed perfectly like the art it was.
His hands were stained with colour. Pencils were scattered on the wooden table in front of him. His sketchbook was filled with drawings of the café around him, moments that had only lasted a few seconds now immortalised on the paper.
The last dozen pages were filled with scribbles, half-finished attempts before he flipped to the next page in frustration and started again in his attempts to capture the stunning glow and beautiful composition of the autumn afternoon through the window.
He let out a frustrated sigh at his latest attempt, turning to a fresh page. It just wasn't working. He'd been drawing all afternoon. Why was his hand giving up on him now?
A plate clinked down onto his table, and a soft voice asked, "Is everything alright, Ink?"
"Oh, yeah, it's fine," he replied, slouching back against his chair with a glance up at Ccino. "It's just..." He gestured towards the view he was attempting to draw. "It - it glows," he tried to explain. "I can't... ugh. I need oil paint, or a drawing tablet. Pencils aren't working for this."
"Ink." Ccino crouched down so that he was level with the shorter, seated skeleton, a gentle, encouraging smile on his face. "You've been doing this for hours. Take a break. Aren't you tired?"
Ink blinked, his brow furrowing. He... okay, maybe he was a bit tired. His head hurt a little, and his wrist was stiff. He rotated it experimentally, causing it to click, and winced.
"Alright, yeah, I'm kinda tired."
Ccino shook his head, playfully exasperated, and nudged the plate towards him. "Eat. Take a break. Come back to this later. You -" His head shot up suddenly, his gaze going to a table of people who were trying to get his attention. "I, um, I h-have to go, but, uh, yeah, just - just take a break." He bustled off towards the table, leaving Ink alone.
He stared down at the plate. It had a pattern of cats around the edges, surrounding the croissant placed in the centre, warm and flaky and emitting a mouth-watering aroma.
His mouth quirked into a smile, and he put his pencil and sketchbook off to the side, dragging the plate closer. He could probably use a rest.
Ink!Sans belongs to Comyet. Fluffytale belongs to black-nyanko.
I had a big day today and I'm tired enough that drawing wasn't working very well, so I wrote something for today's prompt instead.
