Isla
to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering
It has been some time since Isla has seen Asta - the last time they'd spoken, in fact, was in this very place. Last time, though, he'd been requesting help to hunt gore crows, and had been looking very worse for wear indeed. Now, as she comes across him lounging against the heated rock, he still doesn't look like the usually put-together man she'd first met in Torchline, but he does seem much more at ease. "Of course, Asta," she trills as she steps up to join him and sit, letting the hot breeze tousle through her fair hair and sink into her skin.
"Mm, even though Torchline is in the tropics, I always forget what proper heat feels like until I come up here," she says, linking a casual arm with the butcher to give him a friendly squeeze. "How are things? You seem much more relaxed than when we were here last. And what's this about a shift and burning off energy?" Grinning, she undoubtedly thinks that it's going to be something predatory with a lot of teeth.
"Mm, even though Torchline is in the tropics, I always forget what proper heat feels like until I come up here," she says, linking a casual arm with the butcher to give him a friendly squeeze. "How are things? You seem much more relaxed than when we were here last. And what's this about a shift and burning off energy?" Grinning, she undoubtedly thinks that it's going to be something predatory with a lot of teeth.
fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself
