Loathe the way they light candles in Rome
But love the sweet air of the votives
But love the sweet air of the votives
The drawings are good, impressive and detailed, but Koa is less interested in them than their creator. Still, he flips absently to the next page, as much to give himself something to do as anything else; "These are really impressive, Soh," Koa murmurs appreciatively, pausing to inspect a particularly bizarre looking creature rendered in impressive detail, complete with annotations. It reminds him of something his father might have produced, or Noe, except more lively and organic than his family's engineering plans.
He starts to turn another page, then pauses, fingers playing with the corner of the paper. "You drew Pip, once, that day at the Eye." Copper eyes search for silver, the memory of that idyllic afternoon lending nostalgic affection to his gaze. "She still has it in her hoard somewhere. Do you remember?" They'd been younger then, naive and foolish and so flush with life and potential and hope.
They'd been different people; yet now as Koa looks at Soh he knows some things are still the same.
He starts to turn another page, then pauses, fingers playing with the corner of the paper. "You drew Pip, once, that day at the Eye." Copper eyes search for silver, the memory of that idyllic afternoon lending nostalgic affection to his gaze. "She still has it in her hoard somewhere. Do you remember?" They'd been younger then, naive and foolish and so flush with life and potential and hope.
They'd been different people; yet now as Koa looks at Soh he knows some things are still the same.
Koa Carpenter
Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone
Engage with the pain as a motive
Engage with the pain as a motive
