Realistic or Modern Muse

[swampishpetrichor]

@CrackerPower


Alaska Skye Burnes || On Campus || Feeling: Frantic

​

Alaska could just have a panic attack right then and there, in the hallway in front of a swirl of students. A bucket of royal blue paint was in her hand, and it was opened. She was holding two other paint cans. There was a beige, and a deep brown. She picked up her walking pace. Right now, she wore an oversized white box tee shirt that held small little paint splatters from working on art projects, with a short black smock tied over it, and olive green utility shorts, the pockets full of paintbrushes of different kinds, sizes. They all had an array of stains from previous paintings. On her feet, she wore some worn black TOMS, which she wore often since she didn't really care about them much. Her dirty blonde hair was held up in a high ponytail. She weaved through all of the college students, and she caught some looks from admirers, and past muses. But, it was alright she didn't really bother anyone. She was spacing off, and then... wham! She bumped into a chest, and was sent backwards.


The artist opened up her eyes, and blue paint was splashed on her smock, left leg, and hands, and a person she bumped into. Her bright blue eyes opened wide and she looked at the person in front of her. Alaska saw it was a boy about her age, and she had seen him in one of her obligatory classes like English. She picked up the paint cans, and shoved her paintbrushes securely back in her pocket. The boy was actually quite attractive, and her jaw would've dropped if her mouth wasn't wide open from the mishap just right now. Alaska scooted up to him and she laughed. "Listen." She whispered quietly as she grabbed his paint-stricken hands. "Be my muse for a project, I'll make it up to you. Promise." Alaska said normally, and the hallways cleared, and she winked a blue eye which was brought out with some of the royal blue paint on her face. Alaska picked up her paint cans, and a janitor came, and started to clean up. "Sorry, man. C'est la vie." She apologized.


She apologized to them both, the janitor and the boy she bumped into. She just couldn't put her finger on what his name was. She would figure out soon enough. The artist held out her hand to him, and helped him up with a grunt, and walked forward, gesturing for him to follow. "Sorry about that." Alaska smiled sheepishly at her actions, and shifted the paint cans in her hands. "I feel like part of the Blue Man Group, without the music and awesome show." Alaska joked and flicked her ponytail to the side, which surprisingly got no paint in it. She turned her head to the boy, and laughed sheepishly. "Can I get you a coffee, or something. My treat." She added. "Sorry, sorry, this sucks. I know." Alaska really felt bad, and she sighed, holding the heavy paint cans tighter to her chest. She looked forward. There was a brief pause of silence between them, and they just walked through the hall, headed out since it was the end of the school day. "I'm Alaska, by the way." She greeted.

 

[cellar.]

– Ezra James Buchanan –

​

Ezzie was busy rummaging through the various sample swatches of fabrics he had carefully cut into squares, and pinned onto a thick piece of cardboard. He was tucking them all neatly into his textbook, and then into his bag as he exited his Textile Science class. The course was a sure pain, but he couldn’t argue against how much he had learned about the performance of clothing itself. Frankly, it was fascinating, and he wouldn’t mind transferring his major over to it or Human Ecology. Except then again, nothing,

nothing

could come close to his love for

designing.

He just figured that something with the word “science” in it would please his parents more. Sighing at the thought, Ezzie continued on his way, pulling the strap of his bag across his shoulder. He was too distracted with zipping it up, however, to notice the girl that he was walking into.


One second, he was minding his business, and the next everything was covered in a wash of blue.


His clothes, his face, his bag – thank god he had just put away all that fabric and his textbook –

everything.






‘Please tell me it’s not acrylic,’



he thought, standing up, and trying to wipe the paint from his clothes. Well, there went that t-shirt.




‘At least it had been old anyway,’

he reasoned to himself. Looking up at who he had bumped into, he recognized the girl from his English class. Alaska…Something. He only knew her by her reputation for being some sort of man-eater. It was kind of hard to believe though, she looked nice enough. However, the next second later, she had grabbed his hands and pulled him close.

"Be my muse for a project, I'll make it up to you. Promise."




He barely had time to process her words, when she was already up and running, collecting her cans of paint. Then, she walked back towards him, extending out her hand. Slightly hesitant, he took it.




“Nah, it was an accident. I wasn’t really watching where I was going either,”

Ezzie responded, as he tried to get the blue out from his red hair. In reality, he

was

kind of pissed, but he knew it wasn’t entirely her fault either. She was being very nice about the accident, so he tried to brush off the annoyance he felt.

“Yeah. Coffee sounds fine. Just…I don’t think they’ll be pleased if we come in dripping paint,”

he said, indicating towards the both of them.

"Let me get cleaned up a bit, and we'll go if you want to,"

he said with a shrug.

"And I'm Ezzie. Nice to meet you."

 

[swampishpetrichor]

(I'm so, so, so sorry I haven't replied! I'm caught up in so many role plays!)

Alaska Skye Burnes
​

Alaska smiled at him, her head slightly tilted to the side. Ah, there goes that charm right there. She held her her grin for a few short seconds, and then looked forward, smile fading into a calm, neutral expression. "They won't care," she told him, referring to the coffee shop she was referring to. "It's a dimly-lit room full of hipsters who listen to someone dressed in all black spewing poetry, this is physical contemporary. They'll probably snap their fingers at us in applause." Alaska informed with a slight smirk at the thought. "No need, let's go." She walked forward, paint collected at the bottom of her TOMS, scuffing off onto the tile floors of the school. They got to the double doors of the exit, and Alaska turned on her heel, smoothly pressing her hip on the door, pushing it open. She leaned back, holding it open for Ezzie. Once he went through, she followed behind, and then quickly caught up to his pace, eyeing the outside campus. She adored the city, and how there could be little pops of green foliage everywhere.


The painted painter walked forward, leaving footprints on the sidewalk that lead off campus. The royal blue paint left behind grew fainter and fainter with each step since the acrylic was running out with each scuff of the thin soles of her canvas slip-ons. Alaska noticed there was a slight awkward silence, so she was going to strike up a conversation to break the ice. But, it seemed hard to talk to Ezzie, he seemed closed off from others, and focused on something else. Maybe it was like that, but Alaska would never know, since she could never place that on someone she didn't know. Alaska wiped some paint off of her hands on the side of her shirt without a care in the world, and then spoke as they edited campus. "Ezzie is a nice name," Alaska told him her opinion, not caring if he didn't. "It has.. Character." She assed, searching for the right word to describe it. Alaska looked around, and then walked straight, recklessly as a car sped by. A car hit the breaks harshly, and she walked around them with a wide smile.


Her smile to the driver was obviously sarcastic, and she laughed aloud as they flipped her off as she walked by them. "I don't wait for people." She told him. "I don't care... Ezzie, enough of me talking, what about you? Like, yourself, --raw, y'know?" She asked rhetorically. It was just a saying. Alaska walked forward, dodging the people of New York. Just by her presence, it looked like she didn't have a care in the world, and it seemed to be a problem since it caused her to be reckless. She said what she wanted, did what she wanted, and expressed herself how she wanted. It was pretty awesome that she had that confidence within herself, but she brought it to an extent where it could come off as rude, or even high-strung, but if you got to know her she was really laid back and down-to-earth. Alaska was nearing the coffee shop and she slowed her pace as she walked inside. People took looks at them, whispered, then went on. No snapping, but mostly they got some approved smiles. Alaska scoffed as she made her way to the counter, catching a hipster talking about how they didn't understand something simple.

 

[cellar.]

(That's fine, and sorry this post is not that...fluid? But I wanted to get something out.)​

– Ezra James Buchanan –







In truth, Ezzie found this girl to be a little on the odd side of things. Then again, he hadn’t actually met anybody he would call

normal

in the school so far. (His roommate was a saxophone-playing, Chaucer-reading vegetarian for god’s sake.) She seemed endearing, and he had to smile at her comment about the coffee shop. He shrugged, and followed her outside the doors. It was relatively peaceful on the campus for the time of the day. He glanced around his surroundings, taking in the streets of New York city. All his life, he had lived quietly in a small town beside the stillness of the lake. This place was effervescent and electric in comparison, and the change was a welcomed one.


Ezzie’s gaze returned back at Alaska when he heard her speak again.




“You think so, huh?”

He answered.

“Well, it’s actually Ezra, my grandfather’s name, but I thought-”

He was cut off as she kept walking straight, even though the stoplight was red. In response, a car screeched violently to a stop before her. A little dumbfounded by her lack of carefulness, Ezzie ran across the street and caught up to Alaska. She didn’t seem fazed by her little dance with death, and so he didn’t question her actions.

“You know, those lights aren’t just there for décor,”

was all he said. When he heard her explanation, he nodded like he agreed, when he wasn’t all that sure what he was actually agreeing about. Luckily enough, she changed the subject.




“About me…”

Ezzie said slowly.

“I don’t know, what’s there really to say? I come from Michigan. I’m in my second year. I’m a fashion major. And no, I’m not gay before we start with the stereotypes,”

he added. He was struggling to keep pace with her walking speed, and was relieved when Alaska slowed down when they neared the coffee place. He followed her inside, and glanced around at the dimly-lit space. She was right after all, and the shop seemed like it was bursting with people who wanted and needed to be…different, modern, cool.


It wasn’t very on par with his style – the guy who constantly based his sketches on the fifties, or adored Taco Bell, or preferred to watch television than to visit student-hosted galleries. He was almost weird in the sense that he was a pretty regular person.