so much of our lives is just carving through the dark
"It must be a hard life, making all of this wickedly funny wordplay and having it wasted on the likes of us," Isla says with an exaggerated sigh, smirking over at Remi and gathering up as much fruit as she can carry; between the two of them, she shouldn't be craving pineapple for the rest of the season, she thinks. At his offer she pauses, the refusal locked and loaded behind her teeth, and it's with a slightly wistful glance out at the churning see that she finally nods.
"That would be nice. I guess I should go back and check on the clinic now too." No rest for the wicked, as they say, and Isla suspects that in a past life she must have been very, very wicked. "Ready when you are," she decides after one last glance around, as if there might have been something she'd forgotten out here. But with nothing further to do, they make their way back to Torchline's mainland, and the civilisation waiting for them there.
~FIN
"That would be nice. I guess I should go back and check on the clinic now too." No rest for the wicked, as they say, and Isla suspects that in a past life she must have been very, very wicked. "Ready when you are," she decides after one last glance around, as if there might have been something she'd forgotten out here. But with nothing further to do, they make their way back to Torchline's mainland, and the civilisation waiting for them there.
~FIN
