#beforestarters

fingers stirred with a yearning across the fresh texture of the grass absent-mindedly, lazy smile flickering bright across the rose-tinted porcelain features of the woman. the day an idyllic sort, it felt difficult to be expected to concentrate at all, thankful at least that her days of schooling were long behind her. learning had been all well and good, but frightfully stuffy to sit in the small room for so long a period of hours. no, she always felt more comfortable in the constant bursts of fresh air that the out of doors life provided for her, whimsical amongst the flowers. however, there was some level of work still be done, one that she would pursue gladly, other hand moving to prop up her paper, the indulgence of creative arts always a pleasure. a scrunch of her nose small as she concentrated, another distraction soon however, came sailing in, head tilting up to notice someone walking near. “if only the weather would be so fine as this each day, i should wish i never had purpose to do anything- it’s absolutely capital!” merry voice called out, effigy of youth brimming from within. 

Stepping outside to pick up the paper, Meredith couldn’t help but smile to herself as she noticed her own name beneath an article in the corner of the front page. Looking up she chuckles as she notices another standing nearby, “I haven’t quite reached the headliner stories yet, but I suppose one must appreciate the small triumphs,” she sighed, her pride short-lived as her eyes grazed the name of headlining journalist with envy. “Ambition is such a fickle thing-- the very moment I achieve a dream, I become hungry for the next.”

there was a sort of beauty to the contrast between her own home and the home of the valence family that charlotte had allowed herself to observe in days passed. something not just physical, but emotional as well, on sight alone, that could be observed with a skilled eye. it was this innate  feeling  charlie had finally settled into capturing as she sat perched with her easel directly in between both houses, cramming the lives of twenty onto the canvas. she’d been so caught up in trying to mimic the trees that littered the background of her painting that she hardly noticed the person standing in the middle of her shot. “you’re going to wind up painted in if you don’t move,” she jested, raising her brush at her company. “and i don’t capture likeness flatteringly.”