Irene stirred beneath her soft, super warm, super comfy blankets when her cell began it's morning trills. She reached a hand, stained with several different hues of the rainbow towards the glowing candy bar of bright hot...stupid. 

Irene glared at the offending phone many would view a stray bug that has gotten in smiting range, before she tossed the device back on the counter. She stumbled forward, a shock of bright red hair covering one eye as Lorelei stumbled forward. 

"What a night..." She muttered to to herself, just to remind herself of the previous two nights. She'd put up a new bit of street art downtown, third floor, could be seen for a good distance. She knew as she'd just gotten a piece done in a prime spot, her name was going to catch some real attention now. 

She'd chosen this place with a purpose, it was in range of her high school. Any student who walked to school, or looked out a window would be able to see her latest piece. It was her favorite mural to date, her signature Muse. She was larger then life, bright, fire red hair strewn down her back. A pair of black painted wings extended along the wall, she'd even painted a few of the feathers tumbling down the wall, leaving splotches of paint as they tumbled down the wall. Her favorite part was the eyes of her Muse, they were everything she couldn't be. She was shy, her eyes were always kept so close to shutting. As if someone could look into them, and see who she really was. She always kept her gaze down, unless she was painting. 

It would be nice, that if she could look up on occasion, challenge that gaze. Just once, she could capture that look for a short time. Before she threw it right back at them...

Yet, that wasn't her. She was the painter, not the subject. Her role was to capture beauty, and let others look upon her. While she fell back out of the limelight. Drawing a simple flowery blouse and her "Fallen Angel"  hoody. She quickly dressed herself as she got ready for school. As she stepped out of her bedroom, she closed her eyes as she stepped quietly through the house. Her father, Jean, was cooking breakfast, she smiled as the scent of bacon wafted around her. 

"Hey," She muttered as she grabbed one of the stools by the table. 

Jean nodded softly to his daughter as he dumped some scrambled eggs onto the plate, alongside a few strips of greasy bacon. Irene groggily took the plate, trying to hide her exhaustion as she nibbled on the eggs. As she ate, her father's voice broke the silence. "I heard you get back around 4 in the morning, you need some coffee?" 

Irene felt her cheeks flush as she realized she had not gotten in as quietly as she hoped, "sorry, late study session with Ashe," she lied. Her father sighed as he looked at her paint-stained hands. "You know, those murals of Muses started appearing when we moved here, same style as your paintings before the gallery had you blackballed..." He commented carefully, trying not to directly accuse his daughter of her after-hour activities. Of course, Jean knew his daughter had taken on the moniker of "Muse" after the gallery incident, he just felt that if his daughter wanted an outlet to deal with her mother's loss, she could do worse. 

Irene paused as she ate the remaining scrap of bacon, her eyes meeting her father. She promptly looked back to her plate, "I..." her voice hung in her throat, unable to process the next word. Irene gulped, her eyes going towards her backpack. "I'm not hungry, sorry da," she muttered as she picked up the pack full of art supplies, spraypaint, and sketchbook. "I need to get to class early today." She was lying, she just didn't want the uncomfortable conversation with her dad. "I have therapy after class, I'll make sure dinners ready by 7, the words fell listless as she left the house without another word. 

Jean simply watched his daughter leave, before muttering to himself. "Ellie, you were always better with her..."

Irene quickly pulled her headphones over her ears as she left the house, losing herself in a song as she began walking to Vinehurst. The pounding beat of the music drew her away from her distractions, leaving her focused on the only thing that mattered. 

[i] Her art...[/i]

Her attention was knocked back to the real world as a student passed by her on a skateboard. She thought she knew who he was, Seoul, Soul, oh Sol! She tried to open her mouth to say something to him, but by the time she'd worked up to speaking. He was already too far away. She cursed herself under her breath as she kept walking. Eventually Vinehurst loomed up, a wretched building that probably covered the entrance to some stupid evil dimension. Irene slipped inside, and went to her locker. She'd arrived early due to the conversation with her father, her stomach grumbling about the current lack of bacon.

Irene began to sort through her locker, which was comprised mostly of sketchbooks, paint, markers, and a few bits of canvas she'd yet to turn into something more. The handful of granola bars she'd stashed in case she ever stayed late to work on a canvas were running low, but there was something at least. In a few minutes, Irene was now sitting against the locker with her sketchbook, crunching the granola bar with a mild sense of contentment. She heard a few students muttering about the mural that popped up nearby, Irene smiled to herself as she took another bite of the mint chocolate bar as she began sketching her next piece.