Isla
"That's true enough, I suppose. I imagine not many people know where to look. What do you do with the herd?" It isn't like unicorns are used commonly for meat or hide or milk - and the thought sort of flips her stomach in a way Isla doesn't expect. She doesn't really know what to say to his explanation, because sorry doesn't really seem necessary given his tone, but it still isn't a particularly happy scene that he paints.
"I suppose loneliness is subjective. You can be alone without being lonely, right?" He doesn't seem lonely, at least. Catching herself going way too deep for a first conversation with a stranger, Isla shakes that off and glances back across at him. "They're my favourite," she confesses, of the unicorns. "I like that they're a little bit enigmatic." Mercurial, almost.
And, you know. It helps, having been one.
"I suppose loneliness is subjective. You can be alone without being lonely, right?" He doesn't seem lonely, at least. Catching herself going way too deep for a first conversation with a stranger, Isla shakes that off and glances back across at him. "They're my favourite," she confesses, of the unicorns. "I like that they're a little bit enigmatic." Mercurial, almost.
And, you know. It helps, having been one.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard
When you hit me, hit me hard
