ISKRA
Iskra's rough grin remains seated at the idea of boys, Deimos' or otherwise, galavanting with magic in tow through the town. "Ahhh, to be young and reckless again," he sighs with a nostalgic twinge of longing. "Much harder to be old and reckless." Responsibilities and consequences too numerous in comparison. One would have earned him the loud chiding of a furious mother, the other possible jail or exile, potentially death. Well, admittedly, death had been possible as a boy too.
Glad to not have to pretend to be unimpressed with some boys when he is anything but, Iskra just shakes his head in mild regard as the boughs are cleaved and gathered. "I'm sure you'll intimidate them straight," he laughs faintly, trying to imagine if he'd have been more worried to be told of by his mother or Deimos if he were in their shoes. Neither is the real answer.
"If I get inspired by anything, I'll be sure to let you know," Iskra assures, but short of putting children into a tree-felling arena, he's currently short on ideas to offer. "No idea," he admits of Torchline's festival of sorts, Halo's ringing in the season and Torchline's ending it in much different ways. "Last year was colorful powder for the bonfires and enough partying to litter the shore with drunks, so I expect something similar." Which is to say, it would not be a disappointment for it to be the same. He'd thoroughly enjoyed himself.
Getting back to the tree, axe in hand, Iskra considers where to begin striking the trunk to get it down to sizeable logs they could haul off the road. "Glad to hear it," Iskra commends of the young babe. "Has Erebos transitioned into the role of brother well? I know sometimes the first child can get jealous." He'd been his family's youngest, but he'd seen how some of the rleationships between the siblings were strained at times.
Glad to not have to pretend to be unimpressed with some boys when he is anything but, Iskra just shakes his head in mild regard as the boughs are cleaved and gathered. "I'm sure you'll intimidate them straight," he laughs faintly, trying to imagine if he'd have been more worried to be told of by his mother or Deimos if he were in their shoes. Neither is the real answer.
"If I get inspired by anything, I'll be sure to let you know," Iskra assures, but short of putting children into a tree-felling arena, he's currently short on ideas to offer. "No idea," he admits of Torchline's festival of sorts, Halo's ringing in the season and Torchline's ending it in much different ways. "Last year was colorful powder for the bonfires and enough partying to litter the shore with drunks, so I expect something similar." Which is to say, it would not be a disappointment for it to be the same. He'd thoroughly enjoyed himself.
Getting back to the tree, axe in hand, Iskra considers where to begin striking the trunk to get it down to sizeable logs they could haul off the road. "Glad to hear it," Iskra commends of the young babe. "Has Erebos transitioned into the role of brother well? I know sometimes the first child can get jealous." He'd been his family's youngest, but he'd seen how some of the rleationships between the siblings were strained at times.
Swinging my axe, instead of sleeping
Swinging my axe, my splinters are bleeding
Swinging my axe, these cuts are too deep and I feel like I’m freezing
Swinging my axe, my splinters are bleeding
Swinging my axe, these cuts are too deep and I feel like I’m freezing
