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Post by Deleted on Oct 17, 2013 6:59:32 GMT
Everyone had to make money somehow. Aralynn had a part time job but it was shitty so she had temporary jobs such as the one she was on now to scrap up whatever she could. Her camera strapped securely around her neck. Her palms delicately cleaning the lens from any potential threads that could damage it's nothing short but flawless picture taking ability. It was basically taking pictures of the scenery in one of the busiest places of Nova Athenis. They needed them for posters to promote tourism. Whatever works to get her name out there - not to mention some dough in her pockets.
Lifting her baby up, she looked through the camera lens before taking a few test shots. The crisp sound of the shutter clicking consecutive was music to her ears. Lowering the camera, she went to display the test shots. A smile. Perfect! Now all she had to do was surf the crowd, find a nice place or a group of people to take pictures of. Without the typical asshat getting in the way to fuck with her shot or people getting all stiff when they notice a camera is in their face. People don't realize that the best shots are usually the ones with natural expressions.
She found a nice, cozy little spot near a bench. Her camera down for a moment to watch the people move about. A dozen or more expressions ranging from happy to the busy local moving from one point to another. "This should be good." Her tool of photography back up. She started snapping away a stream of shots. So far everything looked pretty good.
Open | Do you think I'm special? Do you think I'm nice? Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces? Between the noise you hear, and the sounds you like, or are we just sinking in the ocean of faces?  |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 21, 2013 13:34:35 GMT
Take your time come get what you come for, don't waste my time, get what you come for
You'd think he'd be used to it by now, that the clicking of shutters and flash in his face would just be an ever-present background noise, but you'd be wrong. It felt like the paparazzi were only more shameless every year, that they were asking for it and it was more self defense than assault in most cases.
He was just hypersensitive to it, the feeling that made his skin crawl and his blood boil, the feeling that someone was taking his fucking picture.
Salem should have let it go - but he was slightly hung over and more than slightly pissed about being kicked from his own goddamn place for the cleaning lady. All he wanted was a cup of strong coffee and somewhere quiet - the advil hadn't set in yet.
He wasn't exactly quiet when he turned and caught sight of the girl, and made a beeline towards her, the girl with her fucking camera still up at her face.
"Hey, you, with the camera." He snapped his fingers in front of the view finder. "Did I say you could take my fuckin picture?"
►@ara |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 21, 2013 22:43:51 GMT
And cue in the reason why people can't have nice things.
Who the fuck was the Rapunzel reject getting all pissy in front of her shots? She lowered her camera slowly directing her dark eyes over to mister slick, subtle and suave up in her face. "Excuse me?" a brow arched up. She looked through her photo stream in view mode in her gallery of what she had so far. She was just shooting shots of the buildings, she didn't have visible faces in any of her pictures. Oh wait, she had a few locks of his hair at the corner of one picture. Whoop-dee-fucking-do.
"I didn't take any pictures of you, dude." she shrugged. "You walked right into my photo shoot of the landscape, but I don't have your mug on any of em'."
If she had visible faces in any of her pictures then she had to talked to the people she got shots of. Then get them to sign release papers of using those pictures. If they refused then the shots were moot anyways. Standard procedure of protecting people's identity and all that tedious shit.
@salem | Do you think I'm special? Do you think I'm nice? Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces? Between the noise you hear, and the sounds you like, or are we just sinking in the ocean of faces? |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 22, 2013 3:56:25 GMT
He had good reason to be wary about having his picture taken. He was hiding from the media, and the last thing he needed was pictures of him, hungover at Starbucks, circulating magazine stands - he didn't want to find out what creative rumours would caption them.
Salem didn't bother himself with manners - there were very few people that earned his respect, and strangers were dead bottom - especially strangers with cameras. He watched her looking through the pictures, though he couldn't see them from where he stood.
"Let me see." He insisted. Just her word wasn't good enough - he had no reason to believe her until he saw the shots. He wasn't going to trust her, and he wasn't going to be patient with her.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 1, 2013 4:32:42 GMT
Either someone woke up with the hangover from hell or was naturally just a pissy little bitch. No matter what way she looked at it, Lynn was placed in a rather inconvenient predicament. She shot him a look that looked conflicted between annoyance and curious. She wasn’t worried about her safety. No, the nineteen year old feared for her expensive camera. Something in the bottom of her gut told her this guy was the type who’d chuck em’ on the concrete without a second thought.
"What's the matter? Afraid it'll steal your soul or something?" she joked dryly. "I'm under contract, and my policy doesn't allow me to take individual's photo unless given official permission to do so otherwise." Though she didn’t really have any other reason otherwise to deny him to see the photos. She played with a few buttons on her camera before flipping the miniature display monitor out to View Mode.
"Here. The numbers on the pictures I just took were forty five to fifty. I'll be nice and delete any of them you don't like, if it makes you feel any better." She extended her arm out so the screen was on display for him to see. Though the camera wasn’t going out of her hands.
@salem | Do you think I'm special? Do you think I'm nice? Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces? Between the noise you hear, and the sounds you like, or are we just sinking in the ocean of faces? |
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Post by Deleted on Nov 2, 2013 7:34:22 GMT
Policy his ass - paparazzi didn't have any policy, and they played as dirty as they liked in getting pictures. Salem had used to be surprised by the pictures he found of himself, but he'd developed a talent for sniffing out rats with cameras.
This bitch could talk about her 'contract' all she liked, but he wasn't listening - he wanted to see for himself. She seemed to get that much - that compliance was the quickest route with Salem.
Dark sunglasses didn't do much in way of disguise, but they were a lot more useful in keeping the damned sun out of his eyes. He had to lift them to make out the screen, blinking in the sudden brightness before he could make out the camera's screen. He watched with a scowl as she flipped through them, fully expecting to see himself in the shots. But they were just landscapes.
"Alright, alright." He heaved a sigh, sounding weary as if she had approached him, pulling his shades back down, waving her off. If she had any idea who Salem was, she would have snapped a picture anyways. For selling, for her own personal use, for whatever.
"You don't know who I am." Salem said, sounding amused - he wasn't sure if he was offended or relieved yet.
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