The sudden breeze blew through the outside stairwell briskly, whipping Morgan's thick purple locks all around but not distracting her from her latest piece of art. Looking down at the rough sketch, one could merely see wild lines and jagged shapes, but Morgan could picture the complete picture - comic book blood red as the back drop with black blended in to enunciate the shadows. The lone, haunted figure in the center. Her venues loved this type of stuff, so she was more more than happy to sell the pieces for the price of the paint if they wanted it. Of course, she didn't use her special paint, she thought as she absently looked out over the school grounds seeing the flock coming to the barn. 

She'd gotten to school early that morning and came up here to stay isolated while she worked. Everyone below and their gossiping nature knew not to mistake her early arrival with a love for learning and 'normalizing socialization skills' as the lovely Ultimatum would so hope, but rather a hatred of her foster mom and house. Closing her drawing pad, she tucked it away in her messenger bag and lit a cigarette. No one used this stairwell before homeroom, she'd learned before she made sure people left her alone, and if they did then they were not the type to foolishly go tell on Morgan for smoking - much more likely would they ask to bum a light. 

She tapped her nails on the rail, somewhat displeased that it was already starting to get warm. She preferred the cold, mostly because she dressed appropriately for it instead of the silly girls who insisted on wearing shorts and heavy jackets. How did that make sense anyway? Once she finished she went inside through the fire door to her right and slowly made her way to the already noisy class, taking the rear entrance and sitting immediately down in the seat closest to that door. By now, there was some sort of unspoken agreement between her and the other females in her class which was to leave that seat open at all times. 

Really, she wasn't intimidating in appearance, which had been her problem when she was younger. Being small in height and body size did not make the bullies leave her alone, so she had to create the persona that forced them away. Sure, people had slowly begun to talk to her, but always in a distant way. With the exception of her bandmates, she smiled privately to herself for a moment - thinking of their practice last night - as she rested her cheek to her fist and drew circles with her finger on the desk, idly beginning to start the transition of passing through another day of Ultimatum-biased knowledge. 

[i]"My name is Lucy Bastion. I hope we have a good year together. That's all."[/i] brought her out of her miscellaneous thoughts, the tone sounding very familiar but the voice obviously belonging to a stranger. It was the tone that she used to get through conversations faster with her foster mother or to scare off other kids who began to pester her by feigning disinterest, and the expression of the girl made a smile spread across her lips as she glanced up at Lucy from her relaxed position.