so much of our lives is just carving through the dark
"I missed you too," Isla mumbles into the warmth of his chest, feeling unfairly attached to the soft brush of his lips against her hair and forehead, as if trying to convince herself that they might not be the result of whatever infection he's been given by The Family. "Mm...? Oh, no, of course. I might need your full attention a little later, but not right now." Peeling herself away, for a second or two the Remedy really almost calls it off. They could do this another day - or never. That might work, right?
Alas, eventually she has to steel herself, shifting to sit on the edge of the counter next to her medical bag. "Flora spoke with Dahlia earlier today," she says softly. "And it came up that you were... gods, it sounds terrible to say it this way, but that you were infected by the Family." She's almost begging him to laugh it off, whether or not he's aware of it. "And so I wanted to talk with you about it, about if you think it might be true...?"
Alas, eventually she has to steel herself, shifting to sit on the edge of the counter next to her medical bag. "Flora spoke with Dahlia earlier today," she says softly. "And it came up that you were... gods, it sounds terrible to say it this way, but that you were infected by the Family." She's almost begging him to laugh it off, whether or not he's aware of it. "And so I wanted to talk with you about it, about if you think it might be true...?"
