ISLA
Isla arrives in a pair of shorts, a tank top, and some supple gloves that ought to make it easier to shift the jagged debris of the Hanged Man; all in all, even the look of her is enough to understand that she's absolutely taken the day off from the clinic. "Hi, Flora," she trills as she approaches, a leather bag in one hand containing some basic first aid supplies and a bit of fountain healing water, just in case anyone gets into any trouble.
She doesn't recognise Dantalion other than knowing him as the Hollowed Grounds' Theocrat and a man who had once frequented the establishment they currently stand in, but the tall, dark haired man earns a double take. (Not you, Flora). "Oh, hello to you too, Astaroth," she chimes, setting her bag down somewhere it won't be trodden on and sweeping her fair hair up into a high ponytail.
"Shall we get started?"
Isla arrives!
She doesn't recognise Dantalion other than knowing him as the Hollowed Grounds' Theocrat and a man who had once frequented the establishment they currently stand in, but the tall, dark haired man earns a double take. (Not you, Flora). "Oh, hello to you too, Astaroth," she chimes, setting her bag down somewhere it won't be trodden on and sweeping her fair hair up into a high ponytail.
"Shall we get started?"
Isla arrives!
apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood
after me comes the flood
