we're always running scared but holding knives
"Ah, that's right." Isla manages a brief wince at the recent memory. "Sorry about that." And she is, especially now that the moment isn't clouded by pain she couldn't afford to let herself feel properly. "I didn't know you even had that shift any more." Settling in the sand between his legs, the Remedy doesn't expect the touch of his fingers against her cheeks to mean so much, but it does.
Not as much as hearing memories of Cal spill from Remi's lips, of course, and fresh tears quickly replace the ones he's brushed away. "Yeah," she agrees, her voice pitched higher than she'd like, and she's more than a little grateful as the fan of his wings come to shade her from both the breeze and the wide open shoreline around them.
Inhaling deeply as if realising she's being slowly suffocated by her own tears, it's in a silence that feels almost serene that Isla takes a second to appreciate this reunion for everything that it is, for the burden she feels it lifts from her shoulders. With that in mind, she reaches out suddenly to swat at Remi's chest and shoulders a few times, light enough that it can hardly really count, and the pout on her lips is contrived at best.
"Don't you ever send me a letter like that ever again," she tells him. "I've been carrying it around for years like it was one of those stupid relics."
Not as much as hearing memories of Cal spill from Remi's lips, of course, and fresh tears quickly replace the ones he's brushed away. "Yeah," she agrees, her voice pitched higher than she'd like, and she's more than a little grateful as the fan of his wings come to shade her from both the breeze and the wide open shoreline around them.
Inhaling deeply as if realising she's being slowly suffocated by her own tears, it's in a silence that feels almost serene that Isla takes a second to appreciate this reunion for everything that it is, for the burden she feels it lifts from her shoulders. With that in mind, she reaches out suddenly to swat at Remi's chest and shoulders a few times, light enough that it can hardly really count, and the pout on her lips is contrived at best.
"Don't you ever send me a letter like that ever again," she tells him. "I've been carrying it around for years like it was one of those stupid relics."
Isla
