Angela Montenegro (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thenormalsquint) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
multiversallogs2011-11-08 07:03 pm
thenormalsquint) wrote in multiversallogs2011-11-08 07:03 pm
» she saw the pictures and painted them
Who: Angela and You. YES, YOU!
What: Come be drawn like one of her French girls.
Where: A street corner a few blocks away from the inn.
When: Early Misdi afternoon
Warnings: The warning is... it's Angela.
On this chilly, yet sunny afternoon, Angela Montenegro can be seen walking down on of Baedal’s many streets, dragging behind her is a little red wagon filled to the brim with art supplies. Where she got the wagon isn't important; what is important, however, is what Angela's planning on doing with the equipment.
Setting up is done quickly and easily with the finesse of a pro (this isn't her first rodeo, kids.) One sketchpad is placed on an easel and flipped to a clean page where Angela scribbles in thick black marker:
ART DONE BY PARIS TRAINED ARTIST – 6 SHEKELS EACH PORTRAIT
She stands back and eyes her handiwork before an almost evil grin spreads across her face. And in smaller, but not too small, letters, Angela writes the words:
NUDES ARE WELCOME. 1 MARK.
And in even smaller letters:
PLEASE HELP ME NOT STARVE. SUPPORT THE ARTS!
And in almost illegible letters towards the bottom right corner of the page:
Please? I don't want to do death masks anymore. ):
What: Come be drawn like one of her French girls.
Where: A street corner a few blocks away from the inn.
When: Early Misdi afternoon
Warnings: The warning is... it's Angela.
On this chilly, yet sunny afternoon, Angela Montenegro can be seen walking down on of Baedal’s many streets, dragging behind her is a little red wagon filled to the brim with art supplies. Where she got the wagon isn't important; what is important, however, is what Angela's planning on doing with the equipment.
Setting up is done quickly and easily with the finesse of a pro (this isn't her first rodeo, kids.) One sketchpad is placed on an easel and flipped to a clean page where Angela scribbles in thick black marker:
She stands back and eyes her handiwork before an almost evil grin spreads across her face. And in smaller, but not too small, letters, Angela writes the words:
And in even smaller letters:
And in almost illegible letters towards the bottom right corner of the page:
no subject
And there's not much padding from Jules' weariness and bitterness mixing together, her inability to find some bright, shiny way to dress it up and make it look better from this or that angle. It's just there, and she's not all too pleased with the result. "Sorry," she muttered, rubbing her forehead and offering a worn-out smile. "It's been a long few weeks."
Eagerly, trying to force herself to a cheerier state, she sits up a bit more. "How's it looking?"