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
"All the better for two voices instead of one," he says with the sort of deviousness that's rooted in care and consideration, but still means to bully someone by outnumbering them. Although trying to convince Sunjata of anything would come best from her lips, unless he's anything like the unruly sort of children that prefer to heed strangers over the parents they've inadvertently manipulated, so maybe Iskra could be stranger enough to leave a dent still.
While he's sure there's truth to her words, a skeptical brow lifts in quiet challenge. "I dunno, Torchline seems like it would have been easy enough." A tropical paradise even when wild, he imagines, but perhaps that's his bias blinding him to the reality of wild being wild no matter what. "Halo's no picnic either, but at least it has trees." Which is mostly what he meant by empty. Not tress, specifically, despite his career. Just something that changes up the landscape enough so you don't wander lost in a heat daze. Ultimately though he shrugs, "but, you're right." On both accounts, that everywhere else had probably been difficult to settle as well, and hard pass.
"Doesn't it always?" he thinks with a shake of his head, marveling at how there's always something. She'd know this well though already, even without Ludo's influence. "Just don't end up covered by any of it," he warns with likely little need. "Otherwise I'd have to give you a bath outside with the hose like whenever Goose goes after a skunk." He grimaces at the very thought.
As they settle properly into sculpting, or the beginning stages anyway, he peeks over his arm still reaching out to caress his column of ice and watches her for a moment. The determination is clear on her face, expression firm with the same stubborn angle towards success he'd always adored about her. Even for the foe of tackling new skills, she meets it with full tilt, and with the sort of insistence that makes the world cow to her more often than not. Tucking his smile, and his attention back behind his sleeve, he returns to shaping his ice a bit further.
Dimly aware of a flare of heat beside him, he glances over to catch the tail end of her 'sculpture'. A surprised shape fits into place before it breaks out into a barking laugh at the name she passes off for it. "Very modern," he commends, attempting to bite down on the grin that threatens to sweep his features away entirely. "Look, what you really made was an icicle." He points up towards the top of the column that survived some of the heat.
"Slow and steady for this sort of task," he says more helpfully now, which even as it leaves his mouth he realizes is maybe not a fine pairing for her. "We could do this one together? I was going to make a luxere head."
While he's sure there's truth to her words, a skeptical brow lifts in quiet challenge. "I dunno, Torchline seems like it would have been easy enough." A tropical paradise even when wild, he imagines, but perhaps that's his bias blinding him to the reality of wild being wild no matter what. "Halo's no picnic either, but at least it has trees." Which is mostly what he meant by empty. Not tress, specifically, despite his career. Just something that changes up the landscape enough so you don't wander lost in a heat daze. Ultimately though he shrugs, "but, you're right." On both accounts, that everywhere else had probably been difficult to settle as well, and hard pass.
"Doesn't it always?" he thinks with a shake of his head, marveling at how there's always something. She'd know this well though already, even without Ludo's influence. "Just don't end up covered by any of it," he warns with likely little need. "Otherwise I'd have to give you a bath outside with the hose like whenever Goose goes after a skunk." He grimaces at the very thought.
As they settle properly into sculpting, or the beginning stages anyway, he peeks over his arm still reaching out to caress his column of ice and watches her for a moment. The determination is clear on her face, expression firm with the same stubborn angle towards success he'd always adored about her. Even for the foe of tackling new skills, she meets it with full tilt, and with the sort of insistence that makes the world cow to her more often than not. Tucking his smile, and his attention back behind his sleeve, he returns to shaping his ice a bit further.
Dimly aware of a flare of heat beside him, he glances over to catch the tail end of her 'sculpture'. A surprised shape fits into place before it breaks out into a barking laugh at the name she passes off for it. "Very modern," he commends, attempting to bite down on the grin that threatens to sweep his features away entirely. "Look, what you really made was an icicle." He points up towards the top of the column that survived some of the heat.
"Slow and steady for this sort of task," he says more helpfully now, which even as it leaves his mouth he realizes is maybe not a fine pairing for her. "We could do this one together? I was going to make a luxere head."
I've been trying to find something
that can set my soul free
that can set my soul free
