so much of our lives is just carving through the dark
Unsure when exactly to expect Sunjata on his trip towards Halo, Isla is nonetheless keeping busy. And with a rare morning to herself - no clinic duties, no supply runs, and with Everest away tending to his own work - she finds herself baking, of all things. She doesn't know whether it's the sudden reminder of the Flood that makes her choose blackerries, or whether it's just because the little garden at the back of the clinic is bursting with them as Leafchange ticks over to Deepfrost; either way, she has them in abundance, and they need to be used.
Alas, what she excels at when it comes to surgeries and diagnoses, Isla is only average at in cooking and baking, and while she's certain it will taste fine in the end, it probably isn't going to be the prettiest cobbler going. And she's having fun with it besides - the smell of blackberries and sugar has filled her little apartment above the clinic, her windows thrown open to let in the cool breeze (and let out any smoke should there be any).
Granted, the counter is a bit of a mess, something she's glad Ever isn't home to see, and there's more than one purplish stain on her apron and in her hair as she stirs the blackberry mixture, humming tunelessly (and badly) to herself.
Alas, what she excels at when it comes to surgeries and diagnoses, Isla is only average at in cooking and baking, and while she's certain it will taste fine in the end, it probably isn't going to be the prettiest cobbler going. And she's having fun with it besides - the smell of blackberries and sugar has filled her little apartment above the clinic, her windows thrown open to let in the cool breeze (and let out any smoke should there be any).
Granted, the counter is a bit of a mess, something she's glad Ever isn't home to see, and there's more than one purplish stain on her apron and in her hair as she stirs the blackberry mixture, humming tunelessly (and badly) to herself.
