(open) truth be told, none of this really matters,

[bristle]

Who: Edgar Valden & you!
When: Mid-late April
What: Intro (3rd floor/Art room)

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01.) だめそうかな、ざまみろ

•　Mid-April — 3rd floor

( it's some time in the mid-evening. late enough for most all of the regular students to have left the school grounds, but early enough that the chatter of transfer students' voices and rustling around still echoes through the halls. edgar, for one, isn't interested in any of that. rather than the people, it's the creatures of this place that draw his attention; namely, a little black cat, which he's learned is none too fond of human contact itself. you know what? he respects it. same, bitch.

hence why he remains pretty respectful of its desire to keep its distance. upon spotting it, resting in any room on the third floor, edgar is already prepared. with a sketchbook and a handful of charcoal in his pockets, he crouches down a good while before he manages to get close enough to spook the thing. instead, he begins tracing out a gesture with the charcoal in his hands—stained black, by the way. this obviously isn't his first attempt. and when somebody walks through the nearest doorway, spooking the poor, black cat away again? it's obviously not going to be the last. meeting their eyes with a sharp expression, his voice is absolutely dripping with contempt. )

You, is there something wrong with your eyes?

( why! would you do that!!! )

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02.) 戻りたいのは　あんな籠

•　Late April — Art room

( or maybe you find him in his natural habitat. that's fair, he doesn't have exclusive claim to the art room, after all—as much as he may wish that he did. especially at a time like this. he'll still act like he does, though. he treats it like it's his own personal studio, and when someone enters, they may find that... compared to any other time they've passed the otherwise relatively orderly room, it's a mess. canvases with any number of colours smeared across them are scattered through the room, the wooden frames on more than a few are snapped, with the fabric of the canvas itself bending and folding unevenly.

in the center of all the mess is a young man, wearing a red cape that's covered in all manners of paint, with a palette knife in hand. he doesn't bother hiding his frustration; with a short yell, he sinks the edge of the tool through his current piece—a largely green illustration, the subject of which is quickly lost as edgar drags the knife across it, slicing it apart. naturally, it takes him a moment to notice that someone is there. once he does turn his attention to them, though, he doesn't appear to hold any embarrassment for his actions. )

What are you looking at?