( Sansa has only recently discovered the art therapy room but it's a place to hide away from the embarrassment that is her never-ceasing fanmail. It increases every day and it's full of such filth that she feels she cannot show her face among the Fleet. She'd spent most of last evening crying into Lady's fur and she's not wept since being married to Ramsay; crying is weakness. Her emotions have thawed since coming to the Fleet, yes, but she cannot show such weakness to the Atroma. They'll only continue to torture her and exploit this weakness if she allows them.
To that end, she's found herself in the art room, charcoal in hand. It's the closest to how she used to draw from time to time in Westeros, smudging against the paper until she's made a portrait or a landscape. The one she's doing now is from memory, the back of Bucky and Lady as they look out one of the windows on the Starduck. Lady herself is present as a live model, not straying from her mistress' side. When she hears someone else come in, she lifts red and puffy eyes. )
I...I won't be a bother, I swear. I can leave if you wish.
art therapy
To that end, she's found herself in the art room, charcoal in hand. It's the closest to how she used to draw from time to time in Westeros, smudging against the paper until she's made a portrait or a landscape. The one she's doing now is from memory, the back of Bucky and Lady as they look out one of the windows on the Starduck. Lady herself is present as a live model, not straying from her mistress' side. When she hears someone else come in, she lifts red and puffy eyes. )
I...I won't be a bother, I swear. I can leave if you wish.