I miss the days when I had a smile on my face
"Likewise, Suuntata." Iskra should have recognized the legendary man, or at least his name, but it's amazing what drifts by you when you keep your head down. The only time Iskra lifted his head was to kiss a bottle. In response to the Flood's flower troubles, Iskra sighed deeply, agreement in that exhale. "Always surns up when aren't lookin'" Iskra said a touch too sagely for his condition. "S'why I sat down." It made sense, kinda. Something about taking the time to stop and smell the flowers properly, or that you'd be too busy looking you'd forget to actually find. Either way, it was still him hard at work sitting on his log and sipping reposado.
Iskra went quiet and still for a moment after Sunjata asked about his home. Somewhere behind the cotton at the back of his eyes, memories of a tide lapping against a shore hummed peacefully in his mind. She was there, alive still, delightfully squealing as they played tag with seaweed. It'd been a rare day for her, a sober day for once. She had been more brilliant than the sun that day, and they had spent the golden hours with laughter and love. Like all good things, it hadn't lasted.
Iskra blinked, returning to the present as he cleared his throat. "Born in Torchline," he said warily, that word foreign on his lips after so many years of disuse. He thought about not saying it, just admitting that Halo wasn't where he was born, but something inside of him beckoned the recognition, a silent plea to verbalize it for once. "Halo's 'ome now." He hadn't realized how nice it had felt to escape the cold by coming here. Iskra had set himself in that frozen region so that the chill would forever keep the warmth at bay. Although these woods were nothing like the warm and salty breezes of the seascape, they still thawed something. "You?" he asked curiously, hoping that the man also didn't share the beach as his childhood place, lest he be asked to reminisce further.
Iskra went quiet and still for a moment after Sunjata asked about his home. Somewhere behind the cotton at the back of his eyes, memories of a tide lapping against a shore hummed peacefully in his mind. She was there, alive still, delightfully squealing as they played tag with seaweed. It'd been a rare day for her, a sober day for once. She had been more brilliant than the sun that day, and they had spent the golden hours with laughter and love. Like all good things, it hadn't lasted.
Iskra blinked, returning to the present as he cleared his throat. "Born in Torchline," he said warily, that word foreign on his lips after so many years of disuse. He thought about not saying it, just admitting that Halo wasn't where he was born, but something inside of him beckoned the recognition, a silent plea to verbalize it for once. "Halo's 'ome now." He hadn't realized how nice it had felt to escape the cold by coming here. Iskra had set himself in that frozen region so that the chill would forever keep the warmth at bay. Although these woods were nothing like the warm and salty breezes of the seascape, they still thawed something. "You?" he asked curiously, hoping that the man also didn't share the beach as his childhood place, lest he be asked to reminisce further.
Iskra
