[se] we leave parts of ourselves in places

Isla take your medicine Sitting in fairly comfortable silence - though it can barely be called that, with the wind, the call of hels overhead and the voices of other beachgoers surrounding them - Isla busies herself with her strips of fabric. Careful fingers bind them into a braid, and she continues to weave them together even as her pebble blue gaze lifts to glance across at Melita. "Ah, thank you. This one is for Varus. Not many people knew him, though I do hope to change that." Nate's name is unexpected but not unwelcome, and the Remedy finds a soft, sad smile on her face as she considers the vibrant blues coming to life along Melita's lantern. "Did you know him well?" she asks softly. She'd been there for his final moments, after all, though it isn't something she particularly likes to dwell upon.