[Clary loves her art classes the most. She’ll often stay later or work the same picture again and again until it feels right. It’s easier for her to picture the world when it’s in terms of how she might draw it. She drew what was there but she also tried to imprint a felling into her work, it made her art style unique.
Her red hair is pulled back into a pony tail with a few wisps that she continued to tuck behind her ear.
At first she drew Bucky as he was, the curve and contours of his muscles, the strength that he held in his shoulders and posture. There was uncertainty in his eyes and Clary drew that too. When her first drawing was done it felt… wrong, despite that fact that she’d drawn exactly what she saw in front of her. Frustration knotted between her shoulder blades and she tore the paper from her sketchbook to try again. She didn’t crumble up the first drawing, as she was known to do, because it had followed the art assignment perfectly and she’d most likely turn it in with her second drawing.
This time she didn’t draw his shape to the letter. She drew how he looked. His shoulders remained strong but his expression was distant and irreproachable. Clary drew his hair sweeping back from his face with a few loose strands of black falling on the right side of his cheek. She left him bare chested at first, working on his legs which were clad in armor. Slowly she erased, working her way back up his torso, coving each piece with a section of armor. Her history class gave her enough of a likeness that she was able to recall the shape of the medieval armor as well as the gleaming reflection of the metal as the sun kissed its surface.
By the time she was done most of the other students had left the room. She’d drawn a sword in his hand that she hadn’t remembered drawing but no shield. Her bright green gaze glanced between Bucky and her picture looking more pleased with herself than before.]
Sorry I took so long.
[She spoke with a small smile to her subject, suddenly feeling bad for taking so long. Clary often loses track of time when she draws.]
II: SCHOOL - April 8th ish?
Her red hair is pulled back into a pony tail with a few wisps that she continued to tuck behind her ear.
At first she drew Bucky as he was, the curve and contours of his muscles, the strength that he held in his shoulders and posture. There was uncertainty in his eyes and Clary drew that too. When her first drawing was done it felt… wrong, despite that fact that she’d drawn exactly what she saw in front of her. Frustration knotted between her shoulder blades and she tore the paper from her sketchbook to try again. She didn’t crumble up the first drawing, as she was known to do, because it had followed the art assignment perfectly and she’d most likely turn it in with her second drawing.
This time she didn’t draw his shape to the letter. She drew how he looked. His shoulders remained strong but his expression was distant and irreproachable. Clary drew his hair sweeping back from his face with a few loose strands of black falling on the right side of his cheek. She left him bare chested at first, working on his legs which were clad in armor. Slowly she erased, working her way back up his torso, coving each piece with a section of armor. Her history class gave her enough of a likeness that she was able to recall the shape of the medieval armor as well as the gleaming reflection of the metal as the sun kissed its surface.
By the time she was done most of the other students had left the room. She’d drawn a sword in his hand that she hadn’t remembered drawing but no shield. Her bright green gaze glanced between Bucky and her picture looking more pleased with herself than before.]
Sorry I took so long.
[She spoke with a small smile to her subject, suddenly feeling bad for taking so long. Clary often loses track of time when she draws.]