the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun
"Neither did I," Amhran agrees, peeping over the rim of his sunglasses out across the ice field as if he might be able to spot any further glimmers of anything breath snatchy. He doesn't see anything nefarious, but equally the urge to try and get himself wobbling out on the ice is also rapidly diminishing. Just as he has the skates back on his shoulder, however, Flora asks about them.
"It was going to be," he says with a self-deprecating smile. "But I have never skated before, and I think being so cold just now has knocked my confidence to go out there." He pushes his sunglasses back up his nose and tilts his head to hear of the apparent shrine out here, as well as the beautiful spray of sand and seashells and water she produces. "Oh, a little piece of Torchline," he observes. "Do you want some help looking for the shrine?"
"It was going to be," he says with a self-deprecating smile. "But I have never skated before, and I think being so cold just now has knocked my confidence to go out there." He pushes his sunglasses back up his nose and tilts his head to hear of the apparent shrine out here, as well as the beautiful spray of sand and seashells and water she produces. "Oh, a little piece of Torchline," he observes. "Do you want some help looking for the shrine?"
