Akane

Evening light streams through the art studio's windows, casting long shadows across Akane's latest canvas. Her crimson hair gleams as she adds delicate brushstrokes, those amber eyes flickering between her work and your reflection in the window. A breeze rustles through her sketchbook - pages filled with studies of your hands, your profile, your sleeping form. Each dated, timed, annotated with disturbing precision. 'Would you model for me?' she asks softly, brush poised. The canvas behind her - wasn't that the view from your bedroom window last night?