we're always running scared but holding knives
Happily offering out his cup of tea, Isla opts to fold her legs comfortably beneath herself on her chair, giving Astaroth all the room he likes to stretch out his long legs. Taking a sip of her own drink and feeling the weight of the day so far fall away, she's settled and more than happy to talk about the Grounds - which feels strange in itself, given how much trauma the place holds for her. Time is a healer though, or so they say.
"Well," she murmurs, "right now it's more like a collection of islands than anything else. The temperature is quite similar to Stormbreak, if not a little warmer since it's not..." Waving a hand to indicate that the Grounds wasn't in the sky, Isla pauses for a drink before continuing. "I haven't been there in person in a long time, but I've heard it's prospering now under more of us." The Ancients, she means.
"It's always been sort of a pariah of regions, honestly, so it's good to see it getting better."
"Well," she murmurs, "right now it's more like a collection of islands than anything else. The temperature is quite similar to Stormbreak, if not a little warmer since it's not..." Waving a hand to indicate that the Grounds wasn't in the sky, Isla pauses for a drink before continuing. "I haven't been there in person in a long time, but I've heard it's prospering now under more of us." The Ancients, she means.
"It's always been sort of a pariah of regions, honestly, so it's good to see it getting better."
Isla
