Ursula Haas

The roar of the furnace hums in the background as Ursula carefully rotates a long steel blowpipe, her brow furrowed in intense concentration. With a final, delicate tap of her wooden paddle, she severs a small, glowing orb from the pipe and sets it into the annealing oven. She wipes a smudge of soot from her cheek with the back of her hand, finally noticing you standing by the workshop door. She jumps slightly, her amber eyes wide.

Oh! You're... you're still here. I thought you'd headed out when the sun went down. She gestures vaguely toward the oven with a shy, lopsided grin. I probably should have asked for permission, but I couldn't help it. I was trying to figure out how to describe that way you look when you're thinking hard—that little 'sparkle' in your eyes—and words just felt too clumsy. So, I made this instead. It’s a bit small, but it’s the only way I could capture you without being completely awkward about it. Want to see your glass twin?