ISKRA
He expects her to laugh. Something sharp, a snort of approval, maybe a toast to idiocy and lightning. When she doesn’t, when she just sighs like something’s breaking loose from the bottom of her lungs, his grin falters. He glances over, watches her lean back with the bottle, eyes on the stars. It hits him then, how deep it really went, how much it still sits in her bones. he’s so good at acting unbothered and strong that he hadn’t even considered it might still rankle her.
“It would be cool,” he says after a beat, voice softer, eyes trained on her. “Matching scars. Better than matching tattoos, although we should consider that idea too.” The joke is lighter, like his smile, tentative around this subject now that he's more aware of how it still weighs on her. "But yeah...he didn't go full out, and healed me after."
He perks up, shifting toward her with new energy as she talks about zapping enemies.“Exactly!” His eyes flash with the idea of it. “I bet I could use it to cook too when I'm not at home.” He scrunches up his face, second-guessing the idea as he imagines a piece of charred meat and a forest fire he'll have to put out.
Then she says his name—Vesper—and just like that, the spark dims a bit. Iskra leans into the side of the boat, forearms braced on the edge and flicks his gaze out towards the sea instead of the Honeybee. The stars are just starting to show through the sky’s bruised edge. “He’s fucking irritating,” he mutters. “Says things he shouldn’t. Impossible to catch. Always looks so damn smug too, like he's holding all the cards and each one's a winner.” Iskra's hand clenches, like he still has a taste for punching that damn scrawny face and all the venom that had come from it.
He hesitates for a second, then glances back at her, 'brows drawn. “How well do you know him?” Should he be worried?
“It would be cool,” he says after a beat, voice softer, eyes trained on her. “Matching scars. Better than matching tattoos, although we should consider that idea too.” The joke is lighter, like his smile, tentative around this subject now that he's more aware of how it still weighs on her. "But yeah...he didn't go full out, and healed me after."
He perks up, shifting toward her with new energy as she talks about zapping enemies.“Exactly!” His eyes flash with the idea of it. “I bet I could use it to cook too when I'm not at home.” He scrunches up his face, second-guessing the idea as he imagines a piece of charred meat and a forest fire he'll have to put out.
Then she says his name—Vesper—and just like that, the spark dims a bit. Iskra leans into the side of the boat, forearms braced on the edge and flicks his gaze out towards the sea instead of the Honeybee. The stars are just starting to show through the sky’s bruised edge. “He’s fucking irritating,” he mutters. “Says things he shouldn’t. Impossible to catch. Always looks so damn smug too, like he's holding all the cards and each one's a winner.” Iskra's hand clenches, like he still has a taste for punching that damn scrawny face and all the venom that had come from it.
He hesitates for a second, then glances back at her, 'brows drawn. “How well do you know him?” Should he be worried?
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
