Ivy & BookRevive
Ivy
I just finished sketching a little forest where the trees whisper in ink—do you ever think about how the hand of a scribe could become a living story, like a secret map that shifts with every stroke?
BookRevive
Ah, the scribe’s hand, a living cartographer, yes? Each flourish a compass point, each gutter a hidden trail, ink running like a river through parchment, mapping secrets only the paper knows.