Isla
"So if I read the notice board correctly, we need to collect seawater and distill it so we can collect the sea salt left behind," Isla is saying as she pads down onto the beach with Melita, her hair swept up into a messy bun and a soft shawl tied around her shoulders to protect against the chill wind. Overhead the sky is moody and threatening rain at any moment, which also explains the large beach umbrella Isla has tucked under one arm.
"The salt is what we want, so I figure if we collect water, I can boil it until the minerals are all that's left behind? I have a container for it." The salt, she means, for the glass jar she produces is large, yes, but it's not exactly fit for collecting gallons of seawater to distill. "Hopefully the rain stays away until we're done, but if not, we can use the umbrella. Fingers crossed it doesn't get too bad."
It isn't monsoon level rainfall (not yet, ha), but Isla still isn't keen to get soaked if it isn't necessary.
"The salt is what we want, so I figure if we collect water, I can boil it until the minerals are all that's left behind? I have a container for it." The salt, she means, for the glass jar she produces is large, yes, but it's not exactly fit for collecting gallons of seawater to distill. "Hopefully the rain stays away until we're done, but if not, we can use the umbrella. Fingers crossed it doesn't get too bad."
It isn't monsoon level rainfall (not yet, ha), but Isla still isn't keen to get soaked if it isn't necessary.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard
When you hit me, hit me hard
