ISKRA
I always feel alone, inside my mind
How do I love my scars when I'm traumatized
How do I love my scars when I'm traumatized
Goose, normally a massive fucking chicken, is not daunted by the small cat, not after his cautious introductions from earlier had completed anyway. After snuffling through the snow and rubbing the chill through his coat, the husky's snout pokes through one of the drifts with a dramatic snort. He noses some of it in a spray towards Aria, bowing low between a front spread of his paws in reciprocation of her bounding play. Behind him, his tail wavers slow and careful, stilling just before he abruptly bounds off and zips around trees, running away from Aria. He does haul up his stride and plant himself back into a bow in the snow, side eying her and her pursuit.
Iskra nods along to Damien's agreements. A blessing indeed to not force muscles to work and warmth to remain in his body as temperatures plummet to unbearable lows. "Been meaning to get a magical coat, although it seems a bit unnecessary when I can make fire." Well, okay, he can't make it, yet, which is part of why he's here and not in Halo. Some of the other workers have means or equipment to beat back the cold and are still working in Halo, but even so, this seems a far nicer slog.
The mule notices the luxere too and grows still for a moment. The ears twist forward and the head rises with the alert, but after some encouragement from Iskra it heaves back into motion, sliding the felled tree with ease. "Dunno," Iskra admits, scratching at the scruff of his beard. "Until we're tired of making them I suppose." He shrugs a bit. "Always families in need of wood in Halo, so I figured this is a way to give back to the place that helped me find myself. I'd rather burn the hours doing this than be part of a search party tracking down some soul who wandered into the cold in hunt of wood." The region has places to gather for warmth, but crowds aren't always kind the poorer among them, and sometimes people just don't want to mingle and think they can manage just fine on their own. Those are the ones they search for and find bodies rather than people usually.
"Longnight prep is pretty much year round it feels like," Iskra laughs, at least where wood is concerned for Halo. Since there's fires that never go out there, same as here, there's always gratitude for flame and fuel. Job security and all. "Whoooa," he tells the mule, tugging faintly on the reins until it stops. Iskra sets them down, stooping to unhook the log, motioning to Damien to grab the other end so they can haul it the rest of the way over to where the splitting is happening.
Iskra nods along to Damien's agreements. A blessing indeed to not force muscles to work and warmth to remain in his body as temperatures plummet to unbearable lows. "Been meaning to get a magical coat, although it seems a bit unnecessary when I can make fire." Well, okay, he can't make it, yet, which is part of why he's here and not in Halo. Some of the other workers have means or equipment to beat back the cold and are still working in Halo, but even so, this seems a far nicer slog.
The mule notices the luxere too and grows still for a moment. The ears twist forward and the head rises with the alert, but after some encouragement from Iskra it heaves back into motion, sliding the felled tree with ease. "Dunno," Iskra admits, scratching at the scruff of his beard. "Until we're tired of making them I suppose." He shrugs a bit. "Always families in need of wood in Halo, so I figured this is a way to give back to the place that helped me find myself. I'd rather burn the hours doing this than be part of a search party tracking down some soul who wandered into the cold in hunt of wood." The region has places to gather for warmth, but crowds aren't always kind the poorer among them, and sometimes people just don't want to mingle and think they can manage just fine on their own. Those are the ones they search for and find bodies rather than people usually.
"Longnight prep is pretty much year round it feels like," Iskra laughs, at least where wood is concerned for Halo. Since there's fires that never go out there, same as here, there's always gratitude for flame and fuel. Job security and all. "Whoooa," he tells the mule, tugging faintly on the reins until it stops. Iskra sets them down, stooping to unhook the log, motioning to Damien to grab the other end so they can haul it the rest of the way over to where the splitting is happening.
I've been trying to find something
that can set my soul free
that can set my soul free
