Nightmares of Beauty

Chapter 3

I quietly stared at my paper, trying to think of what to draw. But I knew what I had to do. I never painted, but my skill with a pen or pencil was unrivialed. The only problem with this assignment was that I had to draw something other than Rose, which was going to be odd. With a sigh, I resigned myself to drawing a wolf, brindled and beautiful. It was a shame werewolves were against us, they were actually gorgeous. But my wolf, the one I always drew, was different. Sometimes male, sometimes female, but always the same colors, tan and black and orange. Always a part of the same pack. Its name was Alex, but the real thing, the real wolf, was long gone.

She had melted away like the summer breeze with the first bite of a cold, bitter winter. Alexandra had always preferred Alex, and he would have called her anything she wanted. He had fallen for a werewolf, and for that, she had been killed. And he had had to watch. It was his fault and always would be, but that was many years ago and he had learned to cope with the pain. Drawing her helped, but he could never draw her exactly as she was in real life, because someone would notice, someone who cared.

For a while, Rose had been a distraction, something to focus on, then he'd started hunting, he'd met her, and maybe he would fall in love again. But a vampire to love a mortal was also forbidden, if not as harshly as a vampire and a werewolf. 

Then she spoke, and he snapped out of it. He hadn't started to draw, and ose said something he didn't hear before he could make sense of it. "I was just trying to think of something to draw," he lied, quickly, then glared at his paper, but decided to take the attention from him and look at Rose's. "What is the meaning of your work?" he murmured, sounding rather unintentionally formal. 

But I didn't hear her answer. My gaze must have been vacant, so I shook my head as if to clear it, laughed, and muttered something about paint fumes. Luckily, she got a text, and walked out. When she left, I let my thoughts meander back to Alex, and did a rough sketch before it occured to me to check on Rose. She was liable to get into some sorta of trouble. I slipped out the back door of the art room and found my way to the hall adjacent to the one she was speaking to a werewolf, probably Jaydn, in. Before I could hear any of the conversation, she had seen me, and stalked over, a fire in her eyes. I'd overstepped, and I attempted to say something about checking on her, but before I could get much out, she'd pushed me out of the way and was gone.

Sorry about the POV switching! I'm still not sure how I want to write with Scott, because this isn't like roleplaying, and Rubinyan is writing from the first-person persepective.