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31_days2011-12-15 03:04 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2011-12-15 03:04 pm
[Dec. 15] [Fullmetal Alchemist] And That's That.
Title: And That's That.
Day/Theme: Dec. 15, 2011 "the artist bets his life"
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Character/Pairing: Kimblee
Rating: PG
It was only natural that he would have to make sacrifices for the sake of his art. Such was the fate of any serious artist. Before his health, before his safety, before any considerations involving the people around him- his art came first. His brother accepted his dedication better than the rest, but that didn't stop Solf from believing there had to be someone else out there who would have a less distanced sort of understanding of his work than Lon did. He wasn't sure how or if he could meet them, but there had to be someone out there who would understand.
When he had lived with his parents, there had been a particular set of concerns to consider- be careful not to damage anything in the house, get far enough away from their residence (and the town in general) to keep the unknowing and easily unsettled folk of Fernburg distanced from the noise of his favored expression of his art, don't talk about alchemy around Dad. He wanted to do what he liked without interruption. He would accept placing a variety of restrictions upon himself. It was an acceptable exchange. What else did one expect while living with one's parents, even if one happened to be a particularly sophisticated young man?
Up in his bedroom he read and scribbled notes and practiced only careful, quiet experiments. It made his mother nervous, but she encouraged him to do the things he liked. With his father there were no mixed emotions. His sons were both set on being artists, each in his own way, and there was little about that he approved of.
Living in South City, there were other boundaries and borders to consider. He still had to keep quiet for the sake of the neighbors (and with two floors of fellow apartment dwellers stacked below him, not to mention the other buildings that stood nearby, he was packed in closer to strangers he would prefer not to disturb (or intrigue, as the case might be)), but there were places in the city he could go and people who might pay him to go there to idly practice his favorite aspect of his art and let certain abandoned buildings or other marked structures fall every which way.
His art was only half secret here. He couldn't help but continue to hope that there was someone out there who shared his passion.
He met other alchemists, but not all of them saw themselves as artists, let alone espoused his general worldview.
He told himself to be realistic and not to get his hopes up. If his art truly meant the most of all to him, it should sustain him on its own.
Day/Theme: Dec. 15, 2011 "the artist bets his life"
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Character/Pairing: Kimblee
Rating: PG
It was only natural that he would have to make sacrifices for the sake of his art. Such was the fate of any serious artist. Before his health, before his safety, before any considerations involving the people around him- his art came first. His brother accepted his dedication better than the rest, but that didn't stop Solf from believing there had to be someone else out there who would have a less distanced sort of understanding of his work than Lon did. He wasn't sure how or if he could meet them, but there had to be someone out there who would understand.
When he had lived with his parents, there had been a particular set of concerns to consider- be careful not to damage anything in the house, get far enough away from their residence (and the town in general) to keep the unknowing and easily unsettled folk of Fernburg distanced from the noise of his favored expression of his art, don't talk about alchemy around Dad. He wanted to do what he liked without interruption. He would accept placing a variety of restrictions upon himself. It was an acceptable exchange. What else did one expect while living with one's parents, even if one happened to be a particularly sophisticated young man?
Up in his bedroom he read and scribbled notes and practiced only careful, quiet experiments. It made his mother nervous, but she encouraged him to do the things he liked. With his father there were no mixed emotions. His sons were both set on being artists, each in his own way, and there was little about that he approved of.
Living in South City, there were other boundaries and borders to consider. He still had to keep quiet for the sake of the neighbors (and with two floors of fellow apartment dwellers stacked below him, not to mention the other buildings that stood nearby, he was packed in closer to strangers he would prefer not to disturb (or intrigue, as the case might be)), but there were places in the city he could go and people who might pay him to go there to idly practice his favorite aspect of his art and let certain abandoned buildings or other marked structures fall every which way.
His art was only half secret here. He couldn't help but continue to hope that there was someone out there who shared his passion.
He met other alchemists, but not all of them saw themselves as artists, let alone espoused his general worldview.
He told himself to be realistic and not to get his hopes up. If his art truly meant the most of all to him, it should sustain him on its own.