Isla
to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering
"Mm, that is true I suppose," Isla agrees with a gentle nod, smiling down at Fern and tickling her cheek with one soft finger, too distracted, for better or worse, to notice the way Ever bristles at the mention of the Taliesins. "Living in Torchline, I expect her to be a bit of a water baby regardless," she continues with a quiet laugh. "I see children down at the beach who are better at swimming than walking."
Brightening at the thought of a swinging bench made with the aviator's own fair hands, Isla grins right back at him and steps in closer against him; it might make it a little more difficult to make their drinks for a few seconds, but this is important enough to delay that routine, she thinks. "You ought to have been a carpenter rather than an aviator," she jokes. "And yes, I am sure. I'm quite excited about the thought, truth be told." The admission is an easy one, Isla gazing down at the baby in her arms now sleeping soundly again.
"And you? How are you doing, with all of this?" Not just the moving, she means, but the abrupt shift in their circumstances in general.
Brightening at the thought of a swinging bench made with the aviator's own fair hands, Isla grins right back at him and steps in closer against him; it might make it a little more difficult to make their drinks for a few seconds, but this is important enough to delay that routine, she thinks. "You ought to have been a carpenter rather than an aviator," she jokes. "And yes, I am sure. I'm quite excited about the thought, truth be told." The admission is an easy one, Isla gazing down at the baby in her arms now sleeping soundly again.
"And you? How are you doing, with all of this?" Not just the moving, she means, but the abrupt shift in their circumstances in general.
fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself
