Mar 3, 2014
nerapolem
He's taken his sketchbook to the beach, just to get away from everything going on at the school, and he's been there for a while now without even picking up his pencil.
But he's getting into the mood to sketch now, as the high-noon sun creeps back down toward the horizon, casting interesting shadows over the debris on the beach, and he finds himself caught up in a piece in just a few pencil strokes.
(When he's like this, sometimes it's a little hard for him to break focus.)
This is his therapy, this is how he self medicates, and he's halfway into a sketch where he's inexplicably inserted a lithe, feminine form when he looks up.
