Art Class [Feli/Open]

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

(ooc: If someone else wants to use the thread for art class, feel free...)

There was rarely a class Ludwig did not at least find interesting in the theoretical sense, but there had always been one subject that left him with an unending sense of dread each time it appeared on his schedule, and that subject was Art. For many it was a break from routine, a chance to express themselves creatively, but Ludwig found it more of a chore than anything else, something he was forced to do, and something he would do poorly at.

He could hear an undercurrent of grumbling from several of his rich classmates, annoyed with how the teacher had intentionally scattered the social classes instead of dividing them off into sections apart from each other. Ludwig did not mind, for it was a chance to interact with someone other than the people he'd spent the last year growing to dislike. He took a deep breath and found his seat in one of the corners, eyeing the easel in front of him with a suspicious glance, as if it might reach out and bite him. The teacher wrote their assignment on the board- to attempt a basic painting- before beginning to walk amongst them, looking for those in need of help. Picking up his paints, he simply stared into one of the pots of acrylic, as if to ask it for advice.

[Feliciano Vargas]

Feliciano wans't used to this whole "class" thing. Yes, he'd been taught, but never a whole lot, and never in a school, never with endless hallways and varying people and so much noise. But he sort of enjoyed it. It was something so new; he'd never even dreamed of going to school before! However, that was also a downside. It was all too new, he didn't know where he was going, and he didn't know how to go about doing anything. So as the halls nearly emptied of people, he found himself wandering about, rather alone, and a little afraid. He got scolded for being late to all of those other classes, and this one would probably be the same.

But he was already starting to get used to that.

Another bell rang--another thing that would take much getting used to for him--signaling that anyone not in a classroom was late. Luckily, he was near to the class he needed to be in(or so he assumed by the numbers on the doors) although he'd failed to actually make note of what the class was, as opposed to where. Finally, he reached a door, which he threw open without regard to the others who may have been working inside. "V-ve, mi dispiace! I didn't know where to go and everything's really really confusing around here, and I ended up getting lost, so please don't be angry! I'll try not to be late next time!" He paused to seek the approval and instruction of the teacher and in doing so took a breath. He found that the room smelled familiar--paint. Looking around he noticed the students, social classes varying, painting(or having been doing so before he caused such a ruckus.)

"Ve? A-am I in the right place?"

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

The teacher eyed Feliciano for a moment, as if unsurprised by his behavior. She'd probably had things explained to her about him.

"Your seat is over there. Ludwig!" she called, motioning to the seat next to Ludwig's corner easel. Ludwig's head shot up from the paint pots to look at the teacher.

"Yes madam?" he replied, breaking free of his artistic despair for a moment.

"Tell Feliciano what our assignment is." Distracted by other students asking her for help, Ludwig supposed it made sense that he should explain. Besides, it would give him something to do instead of paint. At least he could stave off the teacher's inevitable disappointment with his lack of artistic skills for a while longer. Some of the students, the rich ones of course, seemed shocked by the idea that Ludwig was supposed to help a commoner, or even possibly a servant.

Waiting for Feliciano to take his place and ignoring the looks they were getting, he extended his hand to Feliciano. His back was stiff as a ramrod and his gaze was focused on the other boy, taking him in.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt, sophomore," he said, all good manners and no blushing. "It's nice to meet you..."

[Feliciano Vargas]

He bounced up when she didn't seem phased or angry, and made his way over to Ludwig in renewed spirits. He plopped down where he was assigned, still looking around the room, excited, as though he'd never seen so many people painting before. His attention was brought back to Ludwig when he extended his hand, which he stared at, curiously, before awkwardly bowing in his seat as he'd been taught, then taking his hand, shaking it vigorously, although with little strength.

"I'm Feliciano Vargas! Servant class--no, wait, not that--or--I think--wait a second!" He ducked down to dig into the bag he'd tossed down before, pulling out the packet he'd received, skimming it while reading out loud to himself(although it was more of a loud whisper,) before throwing it back in the bag and returning to sitting up properly, and shaking his hand again, his other hand on his shoulder, and rather inside of his personal bubble. "Sophomore, sophomore! I'm that, too--and servant class, too! It's nice to meet you, too, Ludwig--absolutely wonderful! Piacere e molto lieto! Ve, everyone must like painting, huh? Why is everyone painting? Did everyone finish their work already? Ve, ve, you guys must be really smart--class isn't even half an hour in yet!" It seemed like he wouldn't stop talking, but he did, eventually, need to breathe. "So, what's out assignment? And what about you? What's Ludwig like?"

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

For Ludwig, most conversations were brief back-and-forths, unless there was a particularly large amount of information needed. Since he mostly talked to his parents or teachers, they were usually formal as well, and full of tasks for Ludwig to complete. It certainly never went like this, with such rapid-fire speed that he almost felt his mouth go dry just listening to Feliciano talk at such a pace.

"Don't talk so quickly!" he snapped, and though it wasn't really an order, Ludwig had a tendency to make it sound like one. He went over what Feliciano had asked him in his head, and his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he stared at the Italian.

"This is art class. We paint here. Our assignment is to attempt a basic painting so the teacher can gauge our skills," he said, trying not to sound too disappointed in the idea. It wasn't as though he'd never taken art classes before, he just... had no sense of the idea. A moment later, he realized Feliciano had asked another question.

"I'm... hmm." A question he'd have trouble answering. Looking up at his classmate, he finally realized his personal space was being invaded.

"Could... could you not sit so close?" He asked, cheeks flushing despite himself. He pushed his chair back away from Feliciano's, trying to create a bit of space between them. To be so close to a stranger! How odd.

[Feliciano Vargas]

The Venetian boy squeaked when he was practically barked at, then proceeded to directly disobey the order in apology, perhaps speaking even more quickly, words strung together, surely forming sentences before the previous ones ended, although they were mostly one in the same. "I'm sorry! Please don't yell at me so much! But I wasn't speaking so fast, was I--v-ve, but I must've been, since you told me not to! I'm sorry, I'll try to speak more slowly even though I'm used to speaking at this speed and it seems much too slow to be talking to anyone and I'm sorry!" and things to that effect.

He did eventually turn to sniffling and sobbing a bit and that along, awaiting Ludwig's approval of his behavior. He was nervous--he'd never had an actual order while learning here, so suddenly getting one made him a little afraid. But it wasn't a scary one, although he truly didn't understand how he could be speaking quickly, at all.

"Art class?" He listened as he explained the assignment and what they did in Art, looking amazed very quickly and getting over his earlier sobbing and carrying on. "W-we paint? That's our assignment? And we get. . .ah--grades for painting!?" He could hardly believe he was allowed to paint, to start with. Being that the Italian was bad at detecting the situation and feelings of other people most all of the time, he didn't realize that this disappointed and upset Ludwig. He couldn't understand why anyone could be upset at such an assignment.

He blinked(though it was hard to tell, being that he was rather narrow-eyed) and slid away a little, but still remained somewhat in his personal space, looking rather confused as to why he would prefer he sit less close. "Is this better? Too far away?" He was used to affection and being in close proximity with people. He felt better if he could touch a person, be near to them both emotionally and physically. It was just how he'd been brought up.

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

If the fast talking had thrown Ludwig for a loop, the crying left him momentarily dumbstruck. What was he supposed to do? Hands twitching for lack of something to do, he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, embroidered with his family's crest.

"D-don't cry! Here, uh, take this." He shoved the handkerchief into Feliciano's hands, suddenly realizing that the Italian had cheered up immediately at the mention of art. How did one person switch gears so quickly? Ludwig would've been unsurprised if he was gaping at this new student.

"Uhm, yes, we're graded, but the teacher wants to see where everyone is. We're free to paint what we like for today," Ludwig tried to sound more cheerful about the situation, seeing how happy it made Feliciano, but 'paint what you like' was likely to turn into 'stare blankly at the canvas for the entire class period' for Ludwig. He had no sense of form, shadow, or space. Science labs, math problems, those were just puzzles in need of proper assembly. A blank canvas made no sense.

"That... yeah, it's fine," he mumbled, still uncomfortable and feeling his cheeks begin to reheat at the proximity. This was going to be a long and strange art period, he had a feeling.

[Feliciano Vargas]

Although he was calm now, he accepted the handkerchief with a chipper "Grazie!" He didn't use it and, instead, admired the material and the fancy crest on the corner--or, perhaps, it wasn't so fancy, but he found it to be so. He didn't want to use something that he could practically feel the price in. He did his best not to wrinkle it. "It's pretty! And it feels nice! Your family must have a lot of money! It's even nicer than the ones the family I worked for before had!"

He seemed even more excited at the confirmation, and started stumbling over his words. He was clearly trying to ask how you could have such a luxury, to be able to paint and draw as you see fit for a grade, eventually managing to get it out semi-coherently. Is this what they did in school all day? He started setting up, moving things where he saw fit, examining his brushes, then pulling out a pencil and beginning to sketch about the canvas. "That's amazing! This is great! It'll be so much fun, and I'll get some painting done and I haven't been able to for so long--a long time! What're you going to paint, Ludwig? I was thinking about painting the teacher--do you think she'd be flattered? I wonder if anyone's ever done something like that for her before--she's really pretty, so I'm sure someone has, but maybe I could do better. . . ." He got a bit quiet, looking occasionally between her and the canvas which he was marking with graphite, but still making small noises on occasion. Although it wasn't clear, he was still waiting for Ludwig's answer on his painting subject. He didn't realize he'd have any trouble.

"Mm!" He nodded, inspecting the space between the two of them like he'd never seen so much before, but returned to his work again.