32

Everyone can master a grief but he that has it.

~William Shakespeare

Raphael

“Glad people with emergencies could join us.” Jasmine’s voice came sharp and taunting as her eyes trained on Lyra who in turn drew a deep breath.

Her fingers flew to the hem of the cute peach sweater she had on that went really well with the soft tone of her skin and the rest of her outfit which consisted of a dark jeans, a white button down―I assumed based on the collar and the bottom that peaked out of the sweater and a pair of converse. Even though her outfit was basic and simple, it looked perfect on her―everything did.

“Leave her alone.” Leo grumbled beating me to it. He held an irritated expression at Jasmine’s words to Lyra.

“I was just-”

“Leave her alone.” He repeated this time with more authority than the last.

“Alright, geez, y’all are coming to her rescue as though I’ve even attacked her.” She scoffed after Leo had interrupted her.

“You are picking unnecessary fights Jasmine.” Pedro chimed in, cle