open || don't eat yellow snow
Dec 30, 2009 18:57:38 GMT -5
Post by Emily Michaels on Dec 30, 2009 18:57:38 GMT -5
The fresh blanket of snow glistened in the mid-morning sun, soft and powdery and cold, like all the best snow is. The building of the academy looked even more beautiful than ever, layered with snow as it was, and the skeletal forms of the trees were hung heavily with the slowly melting powder. It was almost silent in the school grounds, and yet the snow looked hardly untouched. In fact, almost every inch of it was covered in small footprints, snowmen and snow angels. But then, it was hardly unexpected. Children and students everywhere held onto their love of snow at least until the age of twenty-four, and there were always a few willing to bear the cold in order to indulge in a brutal snowball fight. But only one person had rolled out of bed at half seven for a snow fight, and was still playing in the snow four hours later at half eleven. And that was, of course, Emily Michaels. Wrapped in almost infinite layers the girl was easily warm enough to survive an hour or two more, and, since she loved snow more than most things, it had seemed the obvious decision to move her work outside for the day.
Enclosed in her thickest blue coat and an adorable home-knitted hat, the little sophomore lay flat in a particularly deep drift of snow as she sang cheerily to herself. Next to her sat a pile of empty beer cans, several full ones, a hammer and a heavy duty stapler. Some people may have found it difficult to make a large number of old alcohol cans look like hard work, but Em was not one of them. She could make a banana skin and an old shoe seem relevant to a fashion design course, so old aluminum was hardly a challenge. And so it was hardly surprising to her teachers that her latest project piece was a dress made of reused cans. The girl was currently flattening the cans carefully, bashing them into shape with the hammer and then stapling them onto what was clearly becoming a tight-fitting bodice. From time to time she would take a sip from the open can at her side, intent on slowly working her way through enough beer to complete the outfit, accessories and all. As far as Emily Michaels could see, it was a spectacularly good use of a morning. And the the hammer slipped and she caught one rather cold finger rather hard, and a loud curse echoed happily around the perfectly white world.
Enclosed in her thickest blue coat and an adorable home-knitted hat, the little sophomore lay flat in a particularly deep drift of snow as she sang cheerily to herself. Next to her sat a pile of empty beer cans, several full ones, a hammer and a heavy duty stapler. Some people may have found it difficult to make a large number of old alcohol cans look like hard work, but Em was not one of them. She could make a banana skin and an old shoe seem relevant to a fashion design course, so old aluminum was hardly a challenge. And so it was hardly surprising to her teachers that her latest project piece was a dress made of reused cans. The girl was currently flattening the cans carefully, bashing them into shape with the hammer and then stapling them onto what was clearly becoming a tight-fitting bodice. From time to time she would take a sip from the open can at her side, intent on slowly working her way through enough beer to complete the outfit, accessories and all. As far as Emily Michaels could see, it was a spectacularly good use of a morning. And the the hammer slipped and she caught one rather cold finger rather hard, and a loud curse echoed happily around the perfectly white world.