Timestamp: Fall 34, 523 AV The day was young and the sun was bright. It hung high in the sky, somewhere beyond her shoulder, the door, the window. Its golden rays filtered through the dusty window, giving each a yellow cast, making the dust motes that swirled through the air all around her sparkle. It was more than enough light to both see and work by, so Maya decided to practice her drawing some more since she had some time to spare. She began her practice by setting her book of blank paper, quill, and vial of ink down on the table before her, before making herself comfortable at the table and opening the vial of ink to the air. From there, she flipped her book open to a blank page with which to work, patted the page down with her hands so it wouldn't shut while she was working, before reaching for her quill and dipping it in the ink. Today, she had decided she would try drawing her hand. Not only because she hadn't tried to draw one before and thought it might be interesting, but because it was something she had before her. Her hand was attached to her after all, something she could look at whenever she wished and base her drawing upon. Something she had never bothered with before, always having drawn from memory or based upon her whims. Once the black ink had ceased dripping from the base of her quill, she pulled the tip out of the vial of ink and prepared to draw. The nuit assumed it would be easiest to draw her hand if she traced its length before going back to add in the details, like her nails, her knuckles, the texture of her dry skin. So, she set her left hand, which she wasn't using to hold the quill, down upon the page. She put it down in the center of the page, so her wrist had room to trail away from it, and she had room to work around it. Not a ton, but it should be enough for relative comfort, she felt. She set her fingers apart from each other as well, as much as the page would allow, to make the process of tracing her hand easier, she hoped. Then, she set her quill down to the right side of her wrist, and began drawing her quill around the length of her hand. She moved slowly, but without any grace, moving her quill's point around her fingers, one by one, the feather tickling her skin as it brushed against it, the quill's point scratching the paper beneath it, leaving a trail of dark ink in its wake as Maya worked, the quill's point nudging her skin as though it were trying to instruct a dog to roll over. Gradually, she made her way around, finished all of her fingers, and began to bring her quill back to her side for the final time. She was finding the angle difficult to work with, her ink running low, so she refreshed it quickly before working on the tracing from the other side of her hand, inching the quill around to the left side of her left hand as opposed to trying to work around it from the right side. The quill scratched against the paper, finishing its inky trail within a few moments. When Maya had finished her tracing, she carefully pulled the quill away from the paper and set it into the vial so its ink could be refreshed, before carefully lifting her hand off the paper so as not to smudge the fresh ink she had lain with the quill's assistance. She managed to remove her hand from the paper without incident, and set it down on the page she wasn't working on, to help keep the book in place while she was finishing up her drawing. Raising her hand had revealed her tracing, and she took a moment to study it. While she could easily discern it was meant to be a hand because she had just attempted to trace it and it was in the relative shape of a human hand, there were a few problems with it. First, it was sloppy. Some of her fingers were far more slender than others, which although true to nature, wasn't quite as extreme as what had been depicted upon the page. As she moved her quill around her fingers earlier, she must have pushed too far under the appendage in some areas, and kept the quill's point to its side like a loyal companion in others, causing the fingers width to vary widely. She hoped it was something she could correct by adding more details into the drawing later, but she wasn't entirely sure. Their length seemed to have experienced a similar issue, and her wrist, while the most natural looking, seemed a tad too slender to support the weight of the hand that wrested upon it. Maya blinked at her work; she had a lot of work ahead of her if she wanted to make this hand seem natural. Word Count: 849 Words |