SPRING FESTIVAL - EGG PAINTING

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    [center][fancypost=background-color:; border: 0px; font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; color: #ccccff]「 COPY THAT, — COPYCAT ! 」


    There sure were a lot of egg traditions with easter. It confused him, but here he was. Setting up the table for egg dying and painting. The room was stained with the smell of vinegar. There were crayons, stickers and dyes covering the tables in the room. Dozens of hard boiled eggs were in a bowl in the middle of the table. He just hoped no one would purposefully drop them. It would suck cleaning it all up later.
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    [center][fancypost=width: 500px; text-align: justify]This was precisely the kind of thing his mother would love and be good at. Unfortunately for him he didn't have an artistic bone in his body and wouldn't be creating anything special. Still, he couldn't help but get involved for Dia. "So how does this work?"


    Tags | Updated 4/9/17

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    HIS SOLITUDE WAS A KNIFE — standpaw — the rift — he/him — tags

    [fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 125%]Standpaw's nose wrinkled back as the sharp scent of vinegar met with his nostrils, wondering again why he was here at this 'Spring Festival' again. The pale tom wandered up to the table which contained all the egg-decorating supplies, glancing over it all fleetingly before grabbing an egg and beginning his artistic process... First red crayon, then blue dye, then yellow. And viola! He sat his wet creation down upon the table- which it would obviously stain- and regarded it with mischievous, yet content, eyes. It anyone were to look, a crudely drawn human dick was scribbled onto the egg, though the dye job was quite nice. One side was blue, and the other yellow, and in the center a light green due to the mixing of the two. All in all, Standpaw was pleased with his childish creation.

    [center][fancypost=border-width:0; width: 470px; text-align: justify; line-height: 1.5; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;]talking white
    Egg dying. He remembered painting eggs a few times with his brother, though it had mostly been Prisonbreak asking questions as to why they were doing this so out of season and then his brother making up these stupid stories for reasons why. But it had just been something to do together. The Australian Shepherd Husky shook his head slightly, realizing he had just been standing still looking at the supplies, and took a few steps forward to sit himself nearby Standpaw. Prison began to draw on an egg with white crayon, a very small intricate design before he caught a glimpse of Standpaw's work and released a small laugh.
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    just have a little faith

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    OPERATION NO CONTROL — alex — the rift — she/her — tags

    [fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 125%]Ugh, not egg painting. The last time she'd tried to do this at Easter, one of the other kids smashed some of the leftover eggs in her hair. Let's just say he went him with marker drawings all over his face. Padding up to the supplies, she picked up one of the eggs and grabbed some blue and red dye, going to sit near the others. It was surprising that she didn't drop the stuff upon seeing Stand's choice of decoration, choosing to let out a burst of laughter. "I didn't take you for that type of guy." She joked. "Have something on your mind?" Dipping half of her own egg into the blue dye, she waited for it to dry before dipping the other end in the blue dye. Grabbing one of the purple crayons, she then tried her best to draw planets onto the egg, adding in stars and comets when possible.

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    HIS SOLITUDE WAS A KNIFE — standpaw — the rift — he/him — tags

    [fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 125%]Standpaw wasn't always a fan of social interaction, but Alex had never come off as intolerable, and the canine to the side of him didn't seem loud or obnoxious- so, so far, this was okay in Stand's book. The cream tom let a smile stretch over his features at the chuckles he earned, turning to Alex once he heard her comment on his little masterpiece- or, really, the artist of the so-called masterpiece. "Didn't take me for what kinda guy?" He smirked, "A guy who's seen a penis before or..?" Stand may have come off as all huff-and-puff, but the tom did know how to have fun. He wasn't a total stick in the mud.


    Her second comment earned a broader smile from the feline, shaking his head as a gentle snicker pushed past his lips. "Oh, man- you have no idea." His tone was laced with humor, but in all truthfulness, a lot had been on the tom's mind lately. Alex was there when he woke up in the middle of God-knows-where, or, as he now knew it, The Rift. And ever since that fateful day he'd been hung up on the fact he had no idea who he was except- Standpaw. And even then that sounded a little iffy.

    [center][fancypost=width: 500px; text-align: justify]Gray looked over at Standpaw's creations and snorted. "Mature." He muttered, half hiding his smirk. He picked up an egg and dipped it in the purple dye, only to drop it. Son of a bitch, he was the ones with hands yet he was the one dropping the eggs. "Shit."


    Tags | Updated 4/9/17