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Post by Ichabod Easterly on Jan 26, 2015 17:59:11 GMT
Usually bright sapphire eyes were dull as a knuckle reached up to rub at them. The semester had started back recently, and despite only having been in school for a week or so, Ichabod was already falling back into his habit of only sleeping for a couple of hours a night, and it was already beginning to show. His father, as usual, expressed discontent about it, but the greenette was forced to ignore him. He refused to leech off of him, which meant quitting his job wasn’t an option. And he had to keep his grades high to maintain what scholarships he did get. He stifled a yawn, moving back out of the way deftly as someone bustled past him. It was early morning on a Saturday, but he had work later so he needed to get in some studying while he could.
His small fingers curled around the doorknob to the library, and he gave a tug. The door pulled outward and he stepped through, the warmth in the building dissipating some of the cold on his cheeks. He made sure the door shut behind him, wiped his feet on the mat, and then stepped forward into the building. His hands pushed his green locks from his face as his lip was pulled into his mouth and chewed on. He could have went to Barclay’s library, but he found this one to be quieter and less intimidating – and it had most of the books he was typically looking for anyway.
He needed to find a book about gender roles in society, or something like that, to write a paper over for one of his sociology classes. Really, he supposed that could be just about any book if he put the right twist on it, but it would be easier to write the paper with a book that had a lot of examples. It was rather too bad that he had no idea where to start looking, though. Eventually his feet turned and lead him toward a random section of the library, and he scanned the shelves he could easily reach, picking up several books and reading the backs of them. Some he placed off to the side, some he returned neatly.
After he finished perusing the books on the shelves he could reach, his head tipped back to the ones he could not – which almost outnumbered the former. He reached up on tiptoes, stretching out as his fingers moved clumsily, trying and failing to latch on to one of the books. He fell back flat on his feet again, a frown moving onto his features. Why was he so short, again?
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Wesley Drake
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" I hold my breath and I take it in. This life's challenges. This life's sin.
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Post by Wesley Drake on Feb 15, 2015 17:40:28 GMT
Steel blue eyes scanned over authors and titles carefully before a set of books was pushed gently to one side and another book inserted next to them. Checking the author’s name and codes once more, Wesley smiled softly before bending down to a stack not yet sorted and repeated the actions several more times. Careful in nature and methodical in design, the no longer young man fit his job well. His love of knowledge, especially that which set between pages and binding, accented this as well. Whereas some could have been before by such a repetitive job, Wesley Drake took pride in it, and that was all that mattered to him.
He’d been up for some time, having arrived earlier than opening time in order to see to a few matters that needed attention before doors were opened. However, it seemed few wished to spend their Saturday morning in the library anyways. If he had to guess, most were asleep or at an early morning movie where the price of admissions was half the normal. Had he not been working that day, he certainly would have been there. There was no bitterness or spite for not having the day off, however. Wesley felt more at home in the library than he did at his own house. It was a place of solace and brought a sense of comfort he had not found anywhere aside from his adoptive parents’ home. There, he felt safe, and that was important to the steel haired man.
Upon finishing his stack, Wesley started back towards the front desk slowly. Weaving through shelves of books, he gazed passed them noting the bodies of few who had stepped in since opening. He’d nearly made it to the center area when the sight of a small form reaching up against the shelf caused him to stop. Frowning, Wesley looped around the aisle coming to stop at the end of it. “Is there something I can help you with?” he asked the green haired young man in a calm, quiet tone.
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Post by Ichabod Easterly on Mar 4, 2015 22:49:16 GMT
Ichabod had barely had time to reconsider the situation before that voice sounded off to his side. The tones were quiet and calm enough that they didn’t cause him to jump, even if he hadn’t been expecting them. He felt the same nervousness that he always did at social situations rise up in his stomach as he turned his head to consider the other man. He was much, much taller, though that had been something he’d been expecting before he even looked. Most men were a lot taller than him, he’d accepted that long ago. Pale fingers rose to brush bright green hair out of his face, as his eyes met the other man’s for at least a second before staring instead off to the side of his head. Holding gazes wasn’t exactly one of his strong suits.
“I’m just sort of browsing.” He explained in his soft tones, finally turning to face the man fully. He felt weird talking to someone without facing them, even if he wasn’t looking them in the eye. “I need a book to write a paper over, but I’m not sure exactly what I want.” He laughed, a little awkwardly, after he made the statement. Well, it was really amazing that he was speaking so much in the first place. But he found things such as school, work, and books easy to discuss – because he enjoyed them and they were familiar. “But I can’t really see the ones up there.” He pointed to the higher shelves and shrugged a bit.
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Wesley Drake
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" I hold my breath and I take it in. This life's challenges. This life's sin.
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Post by Wesley Drake on Apr 6, 2015 16:41:02 GMT
Staring back at those nervous spheres, cooler eyes held face without trying. Wesley had long since learned to hold a gaze whether he wanted to or not. His past had taught him looking away was worse. Looking away meant you could not avoid the hand that swung sideways to slap your face. Looking away meant you couldn’t run, hide, or have any chance of avoiding far worse than what you just saw. A soft exhale was given, and that stare redirected itself to the books. This was not one of those times, he reminded himself.
As the explanation was given, Wesley allowed that gaze to return, taking in the boy’s full form and stature. The boy before him was significantly shorter and young looking, yet the way he articulated himself was mature. Regarding the height of the shelf briefly, Wesley glanced back again. “Would you like me to take some down for you or would you prefer me to get a stepstool?” he asked smoothly, offering a simple, calm, reassuring smile. They came so naturally now days, it was hard to believe he hadn’t always been so calm, so at ease while at the library at least. The outside world still managed to do some unintentional damage to his psyche, to say the least, yet at least here he was calm. At least here, he felt safe.
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