<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/88/2b/7a/882b7a8e5773e2ce3bc7f8b7dcefca89.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Eiryn Grim<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>At the loft<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong><br/><br/><strong>Content:</strong>Back in her safety space<br/><br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>skirt (http://hottopic.scene7.com/is/image/HotTopic/10019625_hi?wid=1360); tights (https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQvKIbV6Xeikf_mcu8KpvvRsB0mkYqTLezHPY4Rn7bkiuDQHBsk); turtleneck (http://cached.bensilver.com/RS/SR/Product/61/hlj-a_R.jpg); jacket (http://anf.scene7.com/is/image/anf/anf_71842_01_prod1?$productMain-anf$); boots (http://img.auctiva.com/imgdata/0/9/8/9/8/0/webimg/442425188_o.jpg); choker. (http://passionforprying.files.wordpress.com/2013/02/8ba786d6ddfd034b8f7583edcdd69c8d.jpg)<br/><hr/><br/><br/>She thought, seriously, about stopping by the coffee shop before going head-down into the bizareness of her work world. For about thirty seconds. But she knew what would happen: awkwardness, delays, more fuh-fuhing, and her getting nothing done. And more than ever, she needed time to process.<br/><br/>The damn lock on the grate to the elevator stuck, again- she'd been yelling at the landlord about it for months. God knows she paid enough for the space. But it opened, as she always did; drawing the grate shut behind her, she hit the sutd, and lurched and ground upwards into heaven.<br/><br/>She shed the boots and jacket at the door; after some thought, the turtleneck went too, hung on the coatrack.  It was a little chilly, making her instaperk, but if she started painting, she didn't want to get pigment all over the black top.  Should probably shed the skirt, too, but it WAS too damn cold for that, right then. Besides, the plan for the moment was just drawing. Half a dozen or so ideas that had come to her watching Isis sleep, watching Isis move...watching Isis.  Jsut working drawings; they'd have to be fleshed out from photos of the real thing. Right now, it was just layout, proportion work...<br/><br/>Taping a large piece of watercolor paper onto one of the half dozen easels in the massive space, sher started to sketch. For a moment, she worried about if her friend would like the portrayals of her that Eiryn had in mind; then, everything faded except line and mass, the faint scrape of pencil and charcoal over the surface.