Water is a mirror, reflecting our strengths and weaknesses, our hopes and fears.
Competitive exhaustion and skimpy swimwear aside, she's happy to be on their way to the springs. Elizabeth sighs dramatically, tucking her hands into her pockets and looking off into the distance like an old widowed woman might - although the playful gleam in her stolen glances gives away her teasing. "Ah. What a life. It'd be nice if all we had to worry about was finding the perfect stick." Instead of money and relationships and wars and death. It all seemed a little much sometimes, but she smiles as Goose sprints off to find the twig like it's his only purpose in life. The expression lingers as they walk towards Iskra's place, enjoying the crisp air just long enough to feel its effects by the time they arrive.
Accepting his invitation to stay warm, Elizabeth steps inside and closes the door behind her, immediately letting her eyes roam the space. It's cozy in a lumberjack bachelor pad sort of way with most items maintaining a specific functionality or purpose other than the multitudes of wood carvings. She moves towards them, not as shy about inspecting the work since he'd welcomed her in. If he was embarrassed or didn't want her to see them, she got the sense he would have said so, but they're better than she might have expected from someone who looks like they have more gross than fine motor skills. Small intricate details give the carvings a semblance of realism, obviously crafted and sanded with the utmost care to embody the vision that he'd found in his mind. It's a rare skill to have.
When he comes back out, she's leaning forward to inspect a half-carved piece of wood in a pile of shavings. Elizabeth doesn't look away from the work as curiosity tilts her head. "What's this one going to be?"
Accepting his invitation to stay warm, Elizabeth steps inside and closes the door behind her, immediately letting her eyes roam the space. It's cozy in a lumberjack bachelor pad sort of way with most items maintaining a specific functionality or purpose other than the multitudes of wood carvings. She moves towards them, not as shy about inspecting the work since he'd welcomed her in. If he was embarrassed or didn't want her to see them, she got the sense he would have said so, but they're better than she might have expected from someone who looks like they have more gross than fine motor skills. Small intricate details give the carvings a semblance of realism, obviously crafted and sanded with the utmost care to embody the vision that he'd found in his mind. It's a rare skill to have.
When he comes back out, she's leaning forward to inspect a half-carved piece of wood in a pile of shavings. Elizabeth doesn't look away from the work as curiosity tilts her head. "What's this one going to be?"
Elizabeth
