Solo Model.

[Quiarinox]

69th of Winter. "Okay, this is how you do it," the woman said, her voice kind as always, but authourative. She was an employer, not a friend. That was what the workers were being reminded of when she addressed them. Quiarinox sat still upon the padded bench, arms clasped around the flimsy blanket between her and her fellow employees, the sullen look in her eye daring them to laugh at her. They didn't, they wouldn't. They might have done so under different circumstances, but Nat would not stand for it. This was work, not leisure time. "During the day you will lay here in a certain position and you will maintain the position as much as possible to not change the image the painters will have to create. You can sit, recline, lean, stand, lay down, whatever. As long as you are comfortable with it, do it. Think for the long run, though. Standing until the next break might sound easy right now, but by the time two bells pass you might be too exhausted and start to collapse." Quiarinox nodded at the woman's words, red hair bouncing at her back with every short, sharp gesture.She had seen models before, had painted them. This couldn't be that hard. Those people acted like it was effortless and the greatest thing they had ever done. She volunteered this time to taste some of that victory herself. "Okay, Rina. Whenever you are ready, shed the blanket and move into position." This was the part the Ethaefal-who-looked-like-a-girl wasn't as excited about. She hadn't been naked in front of another person in a long time, but in her desire to not relinquish her grasp on feeling a sense of pride in herself, she elected to be a nude model. Just this once. Her glare soured greater as she looked at the expressions of the people who would paint her, perceiving judgemental amusement where there was none. She shrugged off the blanket quickly, her ideal to get it over with as fast as possible, and arranged herself in a seated position on the couch. The fabric felt strange against her bare skin, eliciting a shiver, and she reclined upon it to stretch out and display the body Leth thought she suited most. The scars, if they were there, were faint in this light. Unnoticable but to those who sat nearest her. They were already painting, too intent of replicating her in their many different ways to comment about the state of her body. She wore an evidently young form, almost shapeless with the first buddings of womanhood. She was slender and fit, but not toned. Her choice of weapons were weilded with the tongue or a bladed fan, not a sword or bow clasped tight in two hands. This showed in the build she possessed. Dainty, pseudo-androgynous, shivering in the cold and under the brunt of so many eyes. Was this how he felt when he had to strip down for his customers every day? She resolved to silence her nerves and enjoy this for as long as she could. At least today, she wouldn't need to do actual painting until the midnight bell when she would relinquish the position of model to somebody else. Time passed slowly for her on that velveteen couch, though. The way she held her arms strained them unnecissarily, putting an ache into her shoulders and making her steady, slightly smiling, expression begin to dwindle to something of a frown. Nat was right, she agreed belatedly as the bells crept by between the first two breaks of the new day. It did hurt when she wasn't in a comfortable position.