Iris. A flower, a part of the eye, a messenger of the gods. Jase. A healer. A grounding presence. A name that feels like a steady hand on the small of your back.
"Let me see," he said, nodding toward the sketchbook.
The playlist on Iris’s laptop had shifted into something slow and acoustic, the kind of music that filled the empty spaces of a room without demanding attention. Outside her third-story apartment window, the city was a blur of rain-slicked streetlights and rushing traffic, but inside, the world had narrowed down to the small coffee table between them.
She did. He was so close now.
Iris. A flower, a part of the eye, a messenger of the gods. Jase. A healer. A grounding presence. A name that feels like a steady hand on the small of your back.
"Let me see," he said, nodding toward the sketchbook. irisxjase
The playlist on Iris’s laptop had shifted into something slow and acoustic, the kind of music that filled the empty spaces of a room without demanding attention. Outside her third-story apartment window, the city was a blur of rain-slicked streetlights and rushing traffic, but inside, the world had narrowed down to the small coffee table between them. Iris. A flower
She did. He was so close now.