I miss the days when I had a smile on my face
Iskra's 'brow sketched up as Sunjata listed off several worldwide events and positions of power in numerous lands. He regarded the Flood in a new light. Not the discernment of one warrior to another, though Iskra had not missed the well-sculpted muscle that adorned him, the kind that tended to come from battle and training. Nor did he forget the man's refusal of drink, not because he wouldn't take it, but because it was too little to affect him. No, what Iskra saw in Sunjata now was the shadow that those titles and heroic deeds left, and he supposed he might be in the company of a fellow wraith.
"Sounds like you're still figuring out where home is." Not said in any cruel manner, just the recognition of the cruelty that such a feeling bore. Iskra smiled, and though it was frail, it remained. "Whassa story behind your ink?" Because no one put a needle to their skin without purpose. Even the 'for fun' markings had a reason to them; fun was reason enough, but often there was something more to it, hidden even from the owner.
"Sounds like you're still figuring out where home is." Not said in any cruel manner, just the recognition of the cruelty that such a feeling bore. Iskra smiled, and though it was frail, it remained. "Whassa story behind your ink?" Because no one put a needle to their skin without purpose. Even the 'for fun' markings had a reason to them; fun was reason enough, but often there was something more to it, hidden even from the owner.
Iskra
