She might as well have been as transparent as an invisibility cloak. As he nudged her, reassuring her he would come along, Irene felt herself flush again (thank Merlin it was warm enough and she'd just recovered from collecting her art supplies that he might not search for meaning in it too much), and her lips inched into another smile, sheepishly this time.
"Alright," She conceded with a nod. He seemed rather interested in the idea, and she trusted him. "I think I should like to show you how I work." It was a feeble attempt at turning his words back to him, opening the doors once more, this time more firmly. She would always trust friends over strangers, and yet knowing Elias was something of an artist himself comforted her even more. He worked relentlessly (oftentimes tirelessly, like her) on his craft — how many iterations of the Stormchaser must he have worked on before he perfected it? — and so did she. Every breath and stroke was a different thought, and different feeling; a rush to capture inspiration before it flitted between her fingers, gone until it decided to return.
The idea of letting him in on the process was something that she was quickly warming up to, and not only because he revealed he would like to see her work. She always would ask Louisa what she thought about this painting and that, but to get an outsider's opinion — one whom she trusted — would be invaluable. "A test flight?" She caught on, inclining her head curiously. "Have you completed the newest version of your prototype?"
"Alright," She conceded with a nod. He seemed rather interested in the idea, and she trusted him. "I think I should like to show you how I work." It was a feeble attempt at turning his words back to him, opening the doors once more, this time more firmly. She would always trust friends over strangers, and yet knowing Elias was something of an artist himself comforted her even more. He worked relentlessly (oftentimes tirelessly, like her) on his craft — how many iterations of the Stormchaser must he have worked on before he perfected it? — and so did she. Every breath and stroke was a different thought, and different feeling; a rush to capture inspiration before it flitted between her fingers, gone until it decided to return.
The idea of letting him in on the process was something that she was quickly warming up to, and not only because he revealed he would like to see her work. She always would ask Louisa what she thought about this painting and that, but to get an outsider's opinion — one whom she trusted — would be invaluable. "A test flight?" She caught on, inclining her head curiously. "Have you completed the newest version of your prototype?"
![[Image: 9EDhNw4.png]](https://i.imgur.com/9EDhNw4.png)