“You have something on your face.”
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If it was one thing Belle and Luke had in common, it was their aspirations toward art – and the maintenance of a semi-organized studio (though in the eyes of other’s it was more than a bit messy, the siblings liked to call it: organized chaos). Both had larger studios outside of their apartment, but also a work-space the size of a master bedroom within the apartment too. While belle’s studio held mostly large canvases and buckets upon buckets of paint (and a small dark-room), Luke’s held two potter’s wheel, an small-walk in fridge the size of a closet that held various sizes of glass jars containing an assortment of clay, other tools spooled about used for sculpting or carpeting, and only a few canvases with an assortment of acrylic or water color tubes. Yet, the biggest difference, was that few stepped within his studio – only a few eyes had graced the unfinished pieces and disheveled mess of the room.
Only Luke had left the door propped open, the small whirring of the potter’s wheel a silent hum escaping the room’s confines, bringing the other to unexpectedly drop by. He’d asked dahui to look after Max and Snow for the afternoon – partially because he’d wanted to see her again (though he’d used his beloved canines as a cover) and partially because he’d wanted a few hours to himself undisturbed. The other’s voice broke through the soft sound of music playing within the room and his trance as the wheel came to a slow stop, fingers laden with clay as he looked up. Scrunching up his noise, he questioned, “really? where?” Hazel orbs looked up at her, a child-like grin appearing as he tilted his head. “mind wiping it off for me? – otherwise I might become a clay-laden-mummy.”
