A Work in Progress

Fandom: Red vs Blue
Character: South Dakota
Word Count: 448
Warnings: None
Note: This was a little bit I did to practice description in general.

Learning how South Dakota moved became equivalent to studying a painting. It began with the broad strokes. When she sauntered away, the eye immediately fell to her hips. The motion dictated the tone of her walk much as lines directed the feel of a painting. She had her jagged, violent lines. The aggressive swing in her hips warned you to stand back. A controlled impact of the fist sometimes accompanied this walk, in case one missed the subtlety. This was what the average viewer witnessed. This was the masterpiece she hung in her foyer.

Very seldom did I witness the soft lines - the gentle curves, the lineless pastels. If at any point someone witnessed these soft lines, South Dakota immediately stiffened and retreated to rework herself. She was always a painting in progress - as if the artist was never pleased with what she created, returning to a familiar style, a safe palette. These delicate lines were often replaced with dark, jagged scratches for a time. A piece of art with little rhyme or reason with all the explosive emotion found in the notepad of an angry teen. I wish she had let me see the pastels more often.

But her bold, vibrant lines were my favorite. When she did well - when she moved up on the leader board or bested another agent - she acquired a cocky swagger made beautiful by the way she looked at me over her shoulder. Her confidence was made clear in the way she set her shoulders and held her chin high. This was the work of art she hung in the galleries. This was what she wanted the world to see in her.

The longer I knew her, the more details came to light in each of these paintings. Such small details could augment how one viewed them. They were found in the way her eyes lit up with joy or became dark enough to make my knees shake or the small hints in the corners of her mouth whether they turned up or down or didn't move at all. Where she placed her hands, how tight she held a fist, and those rare instances when she touched her face added up. These were the lighting, the texture, the color schemes that lent depth to her movements. I made it my job to study them, memorize them.

When it all came together, South Dakota was a complex work of art. It took years of analyzing every stroke, every line, every small detail, yet I still only ever understood a fraction of what she meant to me. I don't believe anyone could ever touch upon what she meant to herself.