yrindor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
yrindor) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
writetomyheart2021-06-30 11:43 pm
yrindor) wrote in writetomyheart2021-06-30 11:43 pm
Entry tags:
[Team Three] Photogenic
Rook would rather be holding a bow than a camera, but Cater has other ideas. Twisted Wonderland, 450 words, G.
Taking the shot isn't nearly so easy as Cater makes it sound.
If it were his bow in his hands, there wouldn't be a problem. He knows how to compensate for movement, for rain and wind, for the subtle tremor of his own heartbeat. He knows his bow like he knows his own body, and when he hunts, it may as well be an extension of himself.
He can't say the same about the smartphone in his hand. It's awkward and inelegant, and he feels a split-second away from dropping it even though he is far from clumsy. He's not a stranger to photographs; it's impossible to spend three years in Pomefiore without picking up a few things, but he's used to being the one photographed, or standing behind the viewfinder ensuring that only the best angles of his wonderful dormitory head are captured. He's never tried to do both things at once before, and he doesn't see the draw in it.
"Make sure you get all of us in the frame!" Cater calls from the ground. "And try to get the Coliseum in the background too."
Rook shifts his weight until he's supported entirely by his legs wrapped around the tree branch. "Monsieur Malfeasant, you're blocking the Prince of Roses," he says.
Floyd somehow manages to shove Riddle forward and then drape his long limbs over Riddle's shoulders without being collared for his troubles. Truly, they are both enigmas that warrant further study.
"Cloud moving in," Cater calls. "Don't take a picture while it's in front of the sun or the lighting will be off!"
Easier said than done, Rook thinks. His stomach muscles are already burning from the effort of holding himself in the one correct position that will allow him to be in the frame without cutting anyone else off. The stray cloud had better move quickly. "And why, pray tell, is the expert Monsieur Magicam not the one taking this picture?"
"Because you're better at climbing, and selfies from interesting vantage points are the big new Magicam trend. Normal selfies just won't get the same attention right now, and we're supposed to be promoting Night Raven College before the new students start. Quick! The lighting's perfect, everyone smile!"
Rook moves so quickly he nearly fumbles the phone. He recovers it at the last second and flashes his best smile as he takes the photo. He understands now why Vil was so insistent he learn how to act convincingly under any circumstances.
"Come take a look at these before I come down, Monsieur Magicam," he says as he holds out Cater's phone. "I'm not climbing up again."
Ziskandra is up next.
Taking the shot isn't nearly so easy as Cater makes it sound.
If it were his bow in his hands, there wouldn't be a problem. He knows how to compensate for movement, for rain and wind, for the subtle tremor of his own heartbeat. He knows his bow like he knows his own body, and when he hunts, it may as well be an extension of himself.
He can't say the same about the smartphone in his hand. It's awkward and inelegant, and he feels a split-second away from dropping it even though he is far from clumsy. He's not a stranger to photographs; it's impossible to spend three years in Pomefiore without picking up a few things, but he's used to being the one photographed, or standing behind the viewfinder ensuring that only the best angles of his wonderful dormitory head are captured. He's never tried to do both things at once before, and he doesn't see the draw in it.
"Make sure you get all of us in the frame!" Cater calls from the ground. "And try to get the Coliseum in the background too."
Rook shifts his weight until he's supported entirely by his legs wrapped around the tree branch. "Monsieur Malfeasant, you're blocking the Prince of Roses," he says.
Floyd somehow manages to shove Riddle forward and then drape his long limbs over Riddle's shoulders without being collared for his troubles. Truly, they are both enigmas that warrant further study.
"Cloud moving in," Cater calls. "Don't take a picture while it's in front of the sun or the lighting will be off!"
Easier said than done, Rook thinks. His stomach muscles are already burning from the effort of holding himself in the one correct position that will allow him to be in the frame without cutting anyone else off. The stray cloud had better move quickly. "And why, pray tell, is the expert Monsieur Magicam not the one taking this picture?"
"Because you're better at climbing, and selfies from interesting vantage points are the big new Magicam trend. Normal selfies just won't get the same attention right now, and we're supposed to be promoting Night Raven College before the new students start. Quick! The lighting's perfect, everyone smile!"
Rook moves so quickly he nearly fumbles the phone. He recovers it at the last second and flashes his best smile as he takes the photo. He understands now why Vil was so insistent he learn how to act convincingly under any circumstances.
"Come take a look at these before I come down, Monsieur Magicam," he says as he holds out Cater's phone. "I'm not climbing up again."
Ziskandra is up next.