"This next series is where we separate the good shots from the magazine-worthy ones."
Maia’s voice carried across the studio as the crew reset the lighting for what she’d called the ’hero shot’ - the main centerpiece outfits that would not only potentially grace the cover but also the pri editorial spreads. The energy in the room had ratcheted noticeably after lunch.
Where the morning had been about finding our rhythm, with lighting direction and background and props... the afternoon was about staging perfection in all things at once. Which is why Sonya gestured toward the first coat waiting on its hanger while
A stunning dark colored wool creation with white fur adorning the collar and cuffs. More than enough to make a statent, but not so much that it beca all the outerwear was.
"The trim on this piece... it’s going to catch every nuance of the light. We need to make sure the texture it has reads beautifully."
"Should photograph quite like the gloss of silk. Arctic fox has that density that makes it almost glow."
One of the lighting assistants comnted while adjusting a reflector. Which led another crew mber to imdiately drop into the darker side of the industry, with a deeply annoyed edge to his voice as if it was a personal matter for her.
"Assuming it’s the real deal and not a convincing synthetic. I swear, so of these fashion houses..."
"It’s real. Trust ."
The production coordinator’s response was sharp. Enough to cut through the general chatter, drawing nearly everyone’s attention from where she stood. Far enough away that I would swear she is a werewolf, to have heard their speaking.
> Well, maybe the acoustics in here are just excellent? <
"And before anyone starts with lectures about ethics, I’ll remind you that Ember Beau Laurent and I personally travel to work out deals with indigenous trappers. The sa way he used to do when Mr. Frost was around."
As if convinced people would question that, she tapped on her tablet and thumbed a small remote that turned on a projector. Starting a slideshow on one far wall of photos about their last visit to the tundra.
Complete with date and tistamps. Probably... sothing they do for proof if they have to litigate over the matter, I suppose. Civilization is complicated.
"These are people whose families have been sustainably harvesting for generations. Not the cages of distasteful fur farms. I will not have anyone on this crew spreading otherwise, understand?"
I kept my expression intentionally blank as I eventually stepped into the coat. The weight of the garnt around my shoulders was substantial, warm, and undeniably luxurious. Lined with the pelts of my distant cousins, at least in soul.
> What stupid fox let itself get caught in a trap like that, anyway? <
The thought was harsh, but it was honest. In the wild, there are predators and prey - or as I recall one shifter philosopher putting it... sothing that translates to ’the quick enough’ and ’the useful dead’.
Which is why, in my eyes, any fox that fell for a trapper’s bait had simply been outmaneuvered by a more cunning hunter. Or was so desperate for whatever may have been the bait that it was spiraling towards death as it was.
> But it still feels a little wrong. Just like it did when I decided to keep the wolf pelts. Actually, I’m surprised that Kyrie... did not bother about that. <
I had them stuffed in a bin in the shipping container, but I’m sure the sll was not unnoticed, surely? But she didn’t complain about the silver or anything else, so I guess I’m just trying to seek out trouble where I had been given none.
But it reminds of my fear about what the council might do with captured rogues that had committed cris. I picture rows of cages, where werewolves that should have been slain if their cri was so bad simply... existed.
Fur farms must be like that - except the creatures never even got the chance to test their wits against the world before capture. At least the wild-caught had lived as foxes were ant to. Running, resting, pouncing, and chasing.
"The contrast against your skin tone is perfect. And with your hair dark against the white trim..."
"Like sothing out of a winter fairy tale."
> If only they knew how literal that comparison was. Only I’m sothing going into one, in a month. Right, my friend? <
My wolf barked once to appease as Devon and Eddit bantered, making their final adjustnts to my makeup and hair. On top of wearing my own kind giving slightly disturbing ’vibes’, my hair has also been placed in a braid that reminds all too much of the Duskpaw.
"Places, everyone! Citra, I want you to think about... royalty. Think of England. Not too formal and distant. Powerful, authoritative, but also warm and inviting."
I moved to the marked position while under that direction. Sowhat getting what she is going for, the core of what I channel as I pose still has nothing to do with what she said. Because the fur was so soft against my neck that I had to resist the urge to bury my face in it.
And only one person ca to mind to emulate when I think of power, warmth, and the restraint not to act on impulses. I’d never tried to copy the way she has smiled at before, but there is a first ti for everything.
"Beautiful! Hold onto that emotion."
The cara shots began even before I finished turning around. Afternoon continued in this vein, each attempt building on the last.
The crew’s lightly casual energy from the morning had buttoned down into intense focus. Everyone understood that these were the images the magazine needed most.
For a cover could define whether today was simply successful or genuinely spectacular - a double success that could be exponential for sales and recognition. And as I moved through pose after pose, outfit after outfit, I found myself enjoying my own speculations.
On just how difficult it may be to *pick* one of the photos. Because I am so very confident that they are all so excellent... it will turn into a chore to pick which ones to send to post-process!
"Citra. How are you feeling? Any fatigue setting in? I know this is sothing you aren’t used to and we haven’t exactly slowed down since lunch."
Maia approached during one lighting change, as I stood off to the side and sipped on so ice water through a straw. It would be a lie to say I couldn’t use a snack. But I still felt plenty energized and alert.
"I’m fine. Thank you for checking on ."
"Excellent. Because with the cover contenders almost through... we’re all going to be pushing through for the final looks. For what it’s worth?"
My eyes cut back up to the woman I’d heard yelling so much today. Because her voice had dropped at the end like she didn’t want anyone to hear what she was about to say.
"Anise was right. You’re worth every penny of the other model’s contract."
I smirked at her, not just for the praise, but-
"Can you say that again and let record it? Oh, not for myself. I have this strange feeling that soone would double what I’m making here today if I sold it to her. I’ll even give you half-"
"No."
With that single word, the not-assistant tried to not-stomp away as I tried to not-giggle.
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