Chapter 294: Chapter 294 - Shoot Day: Cool-Down & Warm-Up
The final stretch had passed in a blur of experimental shots and artistic freedom. With the commercial necessities handled, Sonya had been given permission to try more creative angles and lighting setups.
Rarely were they ever picked for the magazine itself, yet still I’d found myself contorted into positions that would have been taxing without flexibility. Draped in clothes and across furniture that probably cost more than a lot of what I own.
With backgrounds and props being almost chaotically moved about, as if these people hadn’t just spent a whole day of hard work.
"That’s a wrap!"
The call from Maia echoed through the studio and left everyone standing still for a moment. After a bit over twelve hours since walking through the door, the sudden quiet of all hands felt almost wrong.
But eventually, everyone changed gears and began moving again. Packing in equipment while for me, Devon approached with a warm, damp cloth and what looked like a nice quality bottle of cleanser in his other hand.
"Time to return you to the real world, doll. Lets go sit a bit. It might be light, but can’t leave that stuff on that incredible canvas in good conscience."
He began the methodical process of removing the day’s layers that had built across my skin, which actually felt incredibly refreshing. But I became acutely aware of how the blazing heat from the lights that had kept me too warm all day was already dissipating.
Replaced by the natural chill of an autumn evening getting darker outside. I could almost imagine, through the building’s walls, that I could feel the temperature dropping as the warm towel dabbed across my neck... and had to force myself to think of *my* warm bed.
"The contrast walking out is going to be brutal."
"What’s that?"
Eddie peeked over at me, having been waiting for the other man to finish so he could brush out my hair a final time. Gentle fingers unwound the styling he could get to without getting in the way, showing that they valued my time.
> Or their own. Or I really am just a big doll to them... well, no matter. <
"I was thinking about the cold out there after being under those lights and in winter clothing all day. It’s still autumn, but..."
"Always happens. Your body starts to get used to one intensity, then reality hits. Speaking of, want me to put it back how you like it?"
When I saw in the mirror that he was holding either side of the strands between his hands, I nodded gratefully - not even caring how he knew. I’d endured showing up with my hair falling straight and loose, so he never should have seen it?
After a day of being transformed into whatever the camera needed for whatever look they were seeking to match with the outfit... the thought of feeling like myself again was so very appealing.
"You know, I’ve never done this particular style for anyone except my daughter."
Speaking quietly while sectioning and gathering it into my familiar high tails, the routine felt almost intimate... and with his admission, I understand why. Professional courtesy, but personal memories.
"Well, I’m certainly glad to have made a *very* adult first impression on you. I’d say you could take a great picture to show off. But then, there is no need to make your wife jealous, hm? So please crop it above the shoulders."
Devon snorted with laughter while knocking over a container that I hope was not too valuable. It did not shatter or spill, at least, but...
"Oh, Citra, if you can joke like that, I can’t even imagine what had you so red earlier at lunch..."
"...Shut up."
Standing up as both of them had a laugh at my expense, the heat in my neck and ears felt as warm as the lights had. For a moment, I wished I could control that more... and in a way I think that sort of ’wish’ was enough to finally move the system.
Popping up unrequested, the Task List unfurled into a listing that I had yet to be rewarded on. Which was ’impressing’ on the interview almost a week ago. The tangled ⚝ on one end began to ripple out into a new line of text.
| Nurturer’s Tolerance |
A feeling quickly spread through my abdomen. Something in between that relief you get after peeing, when the excess warmth is gone... and that comfort when getting under the covers once your body heat has been trapped *just* enough to rid the coolness from your skin.
That sense of stability was different than the mental one that Composure was supposed to provide - and it only took a few stretching motions to understand what it might be doing, exactly.
> Yep. I hate this system. There is no way that a fae did not design it. It is constantly as mean to me as it is helpful. <
The delay in giving me this was almost insulting - I could have used this hours ago when I was slowly roasting under those lights. In fact, I *know* I thought that it would be nice if a fan was aimed my way, but obviously that could not happen - so that my hair would remain still.
Glaring hard at the system text, it soon enough opens up a more technical worded explanation for what it does... and why I may have needed to really also be thinking about the cold for it to grant this perk.
| INTERNAL TEMPERATURE: Auto-Regulation |
That does explain why the ambient chill of the studio became... irrelevant. Not gone, exactly... there is still some sense of being able to *tell* it is colder. But my body simply maintained its ideal temperature regardless.
> I mean that it is not... penetrating? Like there is a thin layer around me that decides the exterior is warmer or colder and stops any thermal transfer... or something. <
When Vrika tilts its head next to where it sat by the pot of toad lilies, I roll on the floor in frustration before hopping up and yipping a few times. As a fox, of course, that would be ridiculous as a human form!
> Look, are you seriously expecting me to explain to a stupid wolf about a system effect that is neither based entirely in this world’s physics and certainly not based on principles of mysticism that I am aware of?! <
Blue eyes blink and black fur shakes as it whines and whimpers. Then through a serious of images, including the fur trimming on the coats I was wearing and the picture of the trap the indigenous folk used...
As well as breaking the shovel, the tool on that cache, and a lot of other mishaps... I’m pretty sure it insinuates that it makes me a ’stupid fox’ if I don’t know either.
So, in my usual petty fashion, I disappear from the mindscape. But not before changing every pot of glory-of-the-snow into a vase of loudly hissing snakes.