Isla
to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering
"Everest," Isla says with a scoff, because touche, Mr. Aviator, she's forced to concede that he's absolutely correct, of course, focusing instead on finding them a good spot on a bank to spread their picnic blanket and sit down. "And you leave the Sea Warrior alone, he's a regular around these parts. Comes to the clinic quite often after trying to dropkick driftwood," she says mildly, like it's something painfully every day (and it is).
Taking a moment to tie her hair up out of her face in a messy bun while listening to the aviator, Isla smiles softly to hear his story, gently nudging her shoulder against his own. "That sounds really nice," she murmurs. "Your parents both still live in Stormbreak, right?" With her own long-dead and gone, not to mention in another world besides, Isla nevertheless thinks it must be nice to have that close connection.
As for the ships, she raises her brows and tilts her head. "I imagine some parts must cross over," she says. "Only one way for you to find out though, right?"
Taking a moment to tie her hair up out of her face in a messy bun while listening to the aviator, Isla smiles softly to hear his story, gently nudging her shoulder against his own. "That sounds really nice," she murmurs. "Your parents both still live in Stormbreak, right?" With her own long-dead and gone, not to mention in another world besides, Isla nevertheless thinks it must be nice to have that close connection.
As for the ships, she raises her brows and tilts her head. "I imagine some parts must cross over," she says. "Only one way for you to find out though, right?"
fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself
