dance with her ghost

Home is a strange word for Isla when considering the Hollowed Grounds - honestly, she hadn't considered the place such since Varus's death, but her smile is warm nonetheless as she regards Maea. "We're a bit scattered to the wind these days," she admits. That, or dead. "I'm doing well. I'm in Torchline now; I'm thinking of setting up a clinic out there, or a healer's guild. How about you?" Considering assisting her fellow Ancient for a moment, Maea emerges from her shirt soon enough, and Isla lets her hands fall back to her sides. At the mention of Sunjata of all people, Isla understands more, perhaps, than the girl before her might think, not that she's at all keen to get into a discussion about it. "At least with a fire you've no chance of getting too cold," she says instead with a nod. Maea's circumstances - stone, rescue, and so on - are unusual even for an Ancient, and asking if she's alright dies on the medic's tongue, because clearly she is. "Gods, I'm glad you were found," she says instead. "Are you still in the Grounds, then? Or travelling?" ISLA