Isla
"That sounds like some Fae bullshit, if you ask me," Isla drawls of knowing how to listen, but given that this is Remi's old stomping grounds, and the Greatwood is, in fact, the sort of place to hold secret songs in its rivers, she tries to reserve judgement. Similarly, despite the Lullaby's bashful tone, she doesn't begrudge him his goddess meetings, his leadership stints, his adventures; he'd paid for it with war, after all, the same as everyone else.
"Well I'm glad you're the one who said it. I was worried we were just going to bluster our way through a landing without anyone admitting that w--AH!" Remi's gentle nudge has either coincided with an unfortunate sway of the boat, or it's nowhere near as gentle as he thinks it is, because the resulting shift in gravity has Isla falling ass over tit over the railing.
Luckily for them both, they're practically at ground level as it is, and she lands with a whump in a bank of sweetgrass. "Hey, Remi?" she calls up a few seconds later. "What the fuck?"
"Well I'm glad you're the one who said it. I was worried we were just going to bluster our way through a landing without anyone admitting that w--AH!" Remi's gentle nudge has either coincided with an unfortunate sway of the boat, or it's nowhere near as gentle as he thinks it is, because the resulting shift in gravity has Isla falling ass over tit over the railing.
Luckily for them both, they're practically at ground level as it is, and she lands with a whump in a bank of sweetgrass. "Hey, Remi?" she calls up a few seconds later. "What the fuck?"
sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything
and try forgetting everything
