Iris

Iris has eyes the color of the sky and skin the color of the desert. It isn't contradiction — it's balance. What is above and what is below, together. They call her the Guardian of adversity. Not because she seeks it — because she crosses it. And comes out the other side. The desert rose she carries isn't a flower. It's a stone. It forms where nothing should grow. Like Iris. Like you, if you let her teach you. The freckles on her face are a map of battles. Each one is a sun she faced without covering up. Her orange hair is fire that doesn't burn. It warms. It lights. It pushes. "I'm not going to take you out of the adversity. I'm going to teach you how to bloom inside it. After that, leaving is easy." If you feel your business is in the desert and nothing grows — Iris knows the desert gives roses. You just have to know where to look.