// You'll never be alone — Even when your world explodes //
The day wore on with an almost unnoticed passage of time as they each bowed their heads to the work. Goose had long since given up on his antics and dozed in a ball in a patch of sun, after checking every so often on Deimos to see if he or Elizabeth had any more snacks or scratches to offer. Only when fatigue began to set in and the cart toppled a time or two (which was more exhausting to deal with), did Iskra pause to look around and realize where the sun was. That, and just how much damn snow they had moved. It was always a wonder how the light and fluffy blanket of white could be so troublesome, but maybe that was just his Torchline heritage coming through.
Thankfully, he began to tire when the rest of the men and he had finished carting away the last of what Deimos, Elizabeth, and the others had cleared. Deimos called for a break and Iskra was glad for the respite. He settled for a seat in the shade near everyone else after grabbing a piece of fruit from the table. He bit into the juicy skin as Elizabeth drew near, water in hand. He graciously accepted, dipping his head to her as he reached for it. "Thanks! Oh, you know, always think I'm strong and then I work different muscles that tree chopping doesn't use and I'm reminded that strength is relative." He chuckled as he sipped at the water. Between the shade, food and drink, and light talk, he was already feeling the pep return. "Your magic seems to have been a good idea, that's not one I've learned yet" he said easily, looking for a compliment to pay her to ease up his jumbled words from earlier, at which point he had decided was far too long ago to bother bringing up again. Better she think him a touch rude than also insane; still oblivious to their crossed wires. "Oh, yeah, can'tr you tell?" Iskra gestured humorously to the napping dog. "Supervising is hard work, I hear."
As the rest concluded—a tricky balance of long enough to recover and short enough not to lose steam—Iskra got back to his feet and traded his glass for the shovel he'd grabbed earlier, the pickaxe still close by if needed. Deimos was practically an ox in the field, and Iskra had to admire the man's strength and mana both as he manipulated the ground with apparent ease. The academy is always open. Iskra recalled his words from days passed, and considered them more acutely this time.
Grunting, Iskra leaned into the soil with his shovel, over and over.
Iskra DIGS
Thankfully, he began to tire when the rest of the men and he had finished carting away the last of what Deimos, Elizabeth, and the others had cleared. Deimos called for a break and Iskra was glad for the respite. He settled for a seat in the shade near everyone else after grabbing a piece of fruit from the table. He bit into the juicy skin as Elizabeth drew near, water in hand. He graciously accepted, dipping his head to her as he reached for it. "Thanks! Oh, you know, always think I'm strong and then I work different muscles that tree chopping doesn't use and I'm reminded that strength is relative." He chuckled as he sipped at the water. Between the shade, food and drink, and light talk, he was already feeling the pep return. "Your magic seems to have been a good idea, that's not one I've learned yet" he said easily, looking for a compliment to pay her to ease up his jumbled words from earlier, at which point he had decided was far too long ago to bother bringing up again. Better she think him a touch rude than also insane; still oblivious to their crossed wires. "Oh, yeah, can'tr you tell?" Iskra gestured humorously to the napping dog. "Supervising is hard work, I hear."
As the rest concluded—a tricky balance of long enough to recover and short enough not to lose steam—Iskra got back to his feet and traded his glass for the shovel he'd grabbed earlier, the pickaxe still close by if needed. Deimos was practically an ox in the field, and Iskra had to admire the man's strength and mana both as he manipulated the ground with apparent ease. The academy is always open. Iskra recalled his words from days passed, and considered them more acutely this time.
Grunting, Iskra leaned into the soil with his shovel, over and over.
Iskra DIGS
ISKRA
// 'Cause after all the smoke clears — I will be right here //
