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your likeness in charcoal;
[ for all the classes that yingxing has taught and attended, he has seen plenty of models, plenty of beautiful models, but none of them have been quite as arresting as this one.
but he's professional enough to focus on his work, on his paper and charcoal as the vidyadara fluidly shifts positions, posing in two, five, and seven minute increments consecutively. most of the models for the university are repeat volunteers, so yingxing knows their faces, their voices, knows their bodies and their styles of posing, the nature of their elegant movements, but this is a new face. he'd not have forgotten a man like this. yingxing's hand flies across the newsprint paper, capturing the model's likeness in smooth charcoal, in soft line and sweeping gesture, his gaze critical as he studies every inch of him, from his slim, extended fingers, to the shapely long legs, the natural light from the large windows capturing every shape in soft, beautiful clarity.
and yingxing records it all, carving the model's likeness in charcoal and conte crayon, the dragon coming alive with each and every stroke of his hand. pose after pose pass, and yingxing finds himself swept up in the moment, captivated by the model's every dignified movement, by the cool dispassion in those seafoam eyes, by the shimmering reflection off of his long, serpentine tail, and the slight crease in that otherwise flawless brow.
the class all but flies by, and yingxing is thankful that he didn't have to instruct this one, it allowed him to focus entirely on his work, on capturing this beautiful model in all of his exquisite glory, positively entranced. after the charcoal off of his hands with a rag, yingxing hangs back, glancing over his work as the students filter out, and the model rearranges himself in preparation to leave. yingxing is not a shy man, but he hesitates to approach, mostly due to the fact that the model seems significantly younger than him - a student of the university, perhaps? - and the last thing he wants is to come off as a lecherous creep. but gods, he's impeccable, and yingxing can't help but hope for the opportunity to be able to sketch him again.
so he smiles from behind his easel, while he stows his charcoal away. ]
First time?
but he's professional enough to focus on his work, on his paper and charcoal as the vidyadara fluidly shifts positions, posing in two, five, and seven minute increments consecutively. most of the models for the university are repeat volunteers, so yingxing knows their faces, their voices, knows their bodies and their styles of posing, the nature of their elegant movements, but this is a new face. he'd not have forgotten a man like this. yingxing's hand flies across the newsprint paper, capturing the model's likeness in smooth charcoal, in soft line and sweeping gesture, his gaze critical as he studies every inch of him, from his slim, extended fingers, to the shapely long legs, the natural light from the large windows capturing every shape in soft, beautiful clarity.
and yingxing records it all, carving the model's likeness in charcoal and conte crayon, the dragon coming alive with each and every stroke of his hand. pose after pose pass, and yingxing finds himself swept up in the moment, captivated by the model's every dignified movement, by the cool dispassion in those seafoam eyes, by the shimmering reflection off of his long, serpentine tail, and the slight crease in that otherwise flawless brow.
the class all but flies by, and yingxing is thankful that he didn't have to instruct this one, it allowed him to focus entirely on his work, on capturing this beautiful model in all of his exquisite glory, positively entranced. after the charcoal off of his hands with a rag, yingxing hangs back, glancing over his work as the students filter out, and the model rearranges himself in preparation to leave. yingxing is not a shy man, but he hesitates to approach, mostly due to the fact that the model seems significantly younger than him - a student of the university, perhaps? - and the last thing he wants is to come off as a lecherous creep. but gods, he's impeccable, and yingxing can't help but hope for the opportunity to be able to sketch him again.
so he smiles from behind his easel, while he stows his charcoal away. ]
First time?