so much of our lives is just carving through the dark
Brows furrowing to hear that she is, in fact, having a social emergency, Isla blinks a couple of time sbefore realising Flora does, in fact, mean Everest Hart, and she huffs out a soft laugh. "Oh, no," she assures her, "he dances perfectly well. We were just a little too busy talking to focus on the music," she murmurs, hiding her sly smile behind a sip of punch.
Setting the cup down and admiring the other woman in turn, with the preening out of the way they can move appropriately onto gossip, and whilst the Remedy might profess (wrongly) not to engage in such things sober, she possesses none of the same reservations tipsy. "Dahlia?" She hisses the word almost under her breath, pebble blues growing wide. "Gods, is everyone alright? She isn't here now, is she...?"
Setting the cup down and admiring the other woman in turn, with the preening out of the way they can move appropriately onto gossip, and whilst the Remedy might profess (wrongly) not to engage in such things sober, she possesses none of the same reservations tipsy. "Dahlia?" She hisses the word almost under her breath, pebble blues growing wide. "Gods, is everyone alright? She isn't here now, is she...?"
