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
Tugging thoughtfully at the bottom of his beard, Iskra glances sidelong at Mel. "Might be good to follow up with him," he says with a certain quietness, the tone weighted with a wariness. "Just to make sure he actually went. I have a feeling if you had to convince him to go, that he's struggling more than he let on." If Iskra could have found a way to make himself permanently feel numb, he would have left himself that way too. Waking up and drinking from sunup to eyelids down had come close enough, but that took effort and funds. "Maybe we'll invite him out to do something, then we casually check in on him?" Too much pressure and they'd risk pushing Sunjata away too, because ultimately you can't help someone not willing to take it.
Generally, you can start a sentence with, not sure if you've heard, and Iskra's answer can reliably be no. He might be getting healed more and more from the drunken hermit he had been, but he's still sequestered himself in a forest for a living in a harsh environment for a reason. Iskra, jovial and easy going as he is with most people, needs his time to recharge when it's with strangers or mindless chit chat. "The desert?" He can't avoid the sound of skepticism that creeps in, the start of this sounding more like tabloid gossip than anything substantial. "That place is super dangerous and empty though." Unless you needed Ludo and bone shields.
The more Mel explains, the more it starts to align with the squabble at the party. Sounds like a bunch of hens pecking at each other honestly. "That seems...messy." He's certainly glad to know about it in this fashion instead of something more up close. "So now they're all mad at each other?" Girls have been given their own fight name for a reason.
With the ice sculptures and fire at hand now though, for the moment at least there's no drama to be had. "Yeah," he says around a smile, softened for a moment by the fleeting touch along his hand. He holds her gaze for a moment, content to lose himself in the flame of her there, before he remembers and turns back towards their task. "I normally do this in Svaturis Bay, since it has a bunch of ice chunks all over. I think most people use water magic to make their own ice here." Which is not an ability he has, but they can make do. "Buuut, I think we can get away with some of the ice here." A few tree branches have created columns of ice where water or snow began to pour off them to the ground, but got caught with fluctuating temperatures. "So, I kind of shape it into a curve, and do short swipes on alternate sides. You carve it away bit by bit," he explains, stepping towards one of the frozen columns and bending his flame to it like sandpaper clasped in his hand. The ice shimmers then gives way to water in time, the surface running down as he swipes into the side of it with a sharp angle. His other hand reaches out and sweeps away the water, and alternating sides allows the other to refirm.
Generally, you can start a sentence with, not sure if you've heard, and Iskra's answer can reliably be no. He might be getting healed more and more from the drunken hermit he had been, but he's still sequestered himself in a forest for a living in a harsh environment for a reason. Iskra, jovial and easy going as he is with most people, needs his time to recharge when it's with strangers or mindless chit chat. "The desert?" He can't avoid the sound of skepticism that creeps in, the start of this sounding more like tabloid gossip than anything substantial. "That place is super dangerous and empty though." Unless you needed Ludo and bone shields.
The more Mel explains, the more it starts to align with the squabble at the party. Sounds like a bunch of hens pecking at each other honestly. "That seems...messy." He's certainly glad to know about it in this fashion instead of something more up close. "So now they're all mad at each other?" Girls have been given their own fight name for a reason.
With the ice sculptures and fire at hand now though, for the moment at least there's no drama to be had. "Yeah," he says around a smile, softened for a moment by the fleeting touch along his hand. He holds her gaze for a moment, content to lose himself in the flame of her there, before he remembers and turns back towards their task. "I normally do this in Svaturis Bay, since it has a bunch of ice chunks all over. I think most people use water magic to make their own ice here." Which is not an ability he has, but they can make do. "Buuut, I think we can get away with some of the ice here." A few tree branches have created columns of ice where water or snow began to pour off them to the ground, but got caught with fluctuating temperatures. "So, I kind of shape it into a curve, and do short swipes on alternate sides. You carve it away bit by bit," he explains, stepping towards one of the frozen columns and bending his flame to it like sandpaper clasped in his hand. The ice shimmers then gives way to water in time, the surface running down as he swipes into the side of it with a sharp angle. His other hand reaches out and sweeps away the water, and alternating sides allows the other to refirm.
I've been trying to find something
that can set my soul free
that can set my soul free
