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
The quiet thrill of having her for more than an outing or a day hasn't fully left him, and his pace sets a far too jaunty tempo as they stroll down the lanes of town. He'd stocked up on various provisions for her stay, especially this time of year one can never be too sure of the weather changes and depths of snow so they could very well end up locked in a bit, but while they could be out and about some window shopping never did the soul harm. The wallet would be another story.
"Oh?" he asks, the surprise not quite hidden from his tone or the way his eyes find her. He reaches down to toss the stick Goose just returned to him, the mongrel barking encouragement up until it sails out of Iskra's hands and flips end over end further down. "I didn't think that was up for debate," he fills in, a frown scrunching up one side of his face. "I mean, he did seem like he knew he'd need Frey's help last we talked?" He scratched his chin, trying to remember every nuance of the conversation from the dinner party. It had still seemed so fresh for Sunjata the man had appeared haggard with the shock and the loss of everything. "Maybe just took him this long to finally get his bearings," Iskra concludes, decided the news is less about Sunjata went to Frey and more that he finally has. "Well, good, I hope they can fix it for him. I'll be ready to assist as needed." What they had both offered to do for the Heartless.
In zero surprise to him, Mel has dug up more info on the drama that unfolded. Delighted, Iskra chuckles low. "Well go on, don't make me beg to hear it," he huffs, suddenly parched for tea. He picks up the returned stick and launches it once more.
His hunt for the warm beverage of gossip is unfortunately waylaid by the twinkling of ice sculptures. Not the best tour guide, having grown used to such customs they no longer stand out as special to him, he catches himself quickly at her notice. "Oh, yeah! Lots of people like to practice making these sculptures. There's competitions sometimes, so they work out ideas here, especially when the weather is just right." He leans in to observe the citadel one, the likeness quite outstanding. He is ever drawn towards art and craftsmanship, although so many of these end up a child's half-assed carving he usually saves his notice for the competitions.
"Can we?" he repeats, a slow grin curling in behind the question. "I think we must. Turn you into an honorary Halovian." He withdraws a hand from his pocket, flame snapping into the space near his fingertips. "Here, do your thing and copy me, I usually make mine with fire magic. As long as you do it in short, controlled bursts, you won't melt the whole thing, it's cold enough here."
"Oh?" he asks, the surprise not quite hidden from his tone or the way his eyes find her. He reaches down to toss the stick Goose just returned to him, the mongrel barking encouragement up until it sails out of Iskra's hands and flips end over end further down. "I didn't think that was up for debate," he fills in, a frown scrunching up one side of his face. "I mean, he did seem like he knew he'd need Frey's help last we talked?" He scratched his chin, trying to remember every nuance of the conversation from the dinner party. It had still seemed so fresh for Sunjata the man had appeared haggard with the shock and the loss of everything. "Maybe just took him this long to finally get his bearings," Iskra concludes, decided the news is less about Sunjata went to Frey and more that he finally has. "Well, good, I hope they can fix it for him. I'll be ready to assist as needed." What they had both offered to do for the Heartless.
In zero surprise to him, Mel has dug up more info on the drama that unfolded. Delighted, Iskra chuckles low. "Well go on, don't make me beg to hear it," he huffs, suddenly parched for tea. He picks up the returned stick and launches it once more.
His hunt for the warm beverage of gossip is unfortunately waylaid by the twinkling of ice sculptures. Not the best tour guide, having grown used to such customs they no longer stand out as special to him, he catches himself quickly at her notice. "Oh, yeah! Lots of people like to practice making these sculptures. There's competitions sometimes, so they work out ideas here, especially when the weather is just right." He leans in to observe the citadel one, the likeness quite outstanding. He is ever drawn towards art and craftsmanship, although so many of these end up a child's half-assed carving he usually saves his notice for the competitions.
"Can we?" he repeats, a slow grin curling in behind the question. "I think we must. Turn you into an honorary Halovian." He withdraws a hand from his pocket, flame snapping into the space near his fingertips. "Here, do your thing and copy me, I usually make mine with fire magic. As long as you do it in short, controlled bursts, you won't melt the whole thing, it's cold enough here."
I've been trying to find something
that can set my soul free
that can set my soul free
