ISKRA
Though the thought of Melita driving headlong into an infected landscape does not fill Iskra with anything akin to comfort, the recognition of her strength, of her duty, of the need for both, manages to keep the burrs of this knowledge from embedding in him. The very idea of losing Melita, the reminder she has been lost before and recovered, is enough to inspire nausea in him. Today however, with sea salt sprinkling across every topic and sunlight warming the edges of his mind, it doesn't seem possible that she could be pulled from between his fingers, no matter how hungry the void. Torchline is a balm he did not anticipate.
Though there's a distant look to his eye as he gazes in the direction the desert lies, as if he can picture her cutting across sand and magenta chaos as easily as she stands beside him, he does not manage anything other than a quiet smile. The type too afraid to grow big in case something pulls it away quick, the kind ready to fall back into a frown, but a smile all the same. "Have to have something to swing when I team up with you someday," he says casually, gaze falling from the horizon to her. He cannot keep her from the discord of life, no one can. So the next best option is to be capable enough to join her amid the fray.
"Figured I'd start with what I know, go from there...work on my magic in-between." The academy and the barracks, each a different side of the coin for Iskra to work on. It'll be a while yet until he can even stand in her shadow, much less at her side, but if the past ten years of self-isolation have proven nothing else, Iskra is persistent. "Just fire and lightning for now," he says with a touch of fondness, like he can feel each of his parents still with him, alive in his abilities as some final bond. "Just basic still, but I'll master them." His fingers curl and uncurl as he stares down at his hands, as if willing the strength there. At least now he's found a reason, standing here with him, smelling freshly made tortillas.
Though there's a distant look to his eye as he gazes in the direction the desert lies, as if he can picture her cutting across sand and magenta chaos as easily as she stands beside him, he does not manage anything other than a quiet smile. The type too afraid to grow big in case something pulls it away quick, the kind ready to fall back into a frown, but a smile all the same. "Have to have something to swing when I team up with you someday," he says casually, gaze falling from the horizon to her. He cannot keep her from the discord of life, no one can. So the next best option is to be capable enough to join her amid the fray.
"Figured I'd start with what I know, go from there...work on my magic in-between." The academy and the barracks, each a different side of the coin for Iskra to work on. It'll be a while yet until he can even stand in her shadow, much less at her side, but if the past ten years of self-isolation have proven nothing else, Iskra is persistent. "Just fire and lightning for now," he says with a touch of fondness, like he can feel each of his parents still with him, alive in his abilities as some final bond. "Just basic still, but I'll master them." His fingers curl and uncurl as he stares down at his hands, as if willing the strength there. At least now he's found a reason, standing here with him, smelling freshly made tortillas.
I'm losin' my grip, caught up in the current
I can't swim, I'm startin' to slip
I'm runnin' out of breath, I'm scared to death
I gotta keep my head up, Up above the water
I can't swim, I'm startin' to slip
I'm runnin' out of breath, I'm scared to death
I gotta keep my head up, Up above the water
