Isla
to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering
"Alcohol is a very useful antiseptic tool," Isla protests with a chiming laugh, though the fact that she's currently filling a flask with the rum to add to their picnic basket suggests that she is not utilising this particular property right now. Also let's be real, white rum of the type used in the fountain is likely not the best choice of disinfectant out there.
Regardless, capping off the flask and slipping it back into their basket, she smiles sweetly up at Ever and loops her arm through his own to guide him away from the fountain and the heebie jeebies it's currently giving him. "I imagine so, though I've never seen it myself. You'd hope that they would realise, what with it being called the Lucky Rum Fountain." And the sweet, alcoholic scent of it as well.
"Come on, let's go watch the ships for a bit," she suggests, if only to give the aviator something else to hyperfixate on for a while.
Regardless, capping off the flask and slipping it back into their basket, she smiles sweetly up at Ever and loops her arm through his own to guide him away from the fountain and the heebie jeebies it's currently giving him. "I imagine so, though I've never seen it myself. You'd hope that they would realise, what with it being called the Lucky Rum Fountain." And the sweet, alcoholic scent of it as well.
"Come on, let's go watch the ships for a bit," she suggests, if only to give the aviator something else to hyperfixate on for a while.
fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself
