ISKRA
Wood gives way to the point of his tool with a familiar shape. It resists at first, the motions feeling almost futile, arms burning with the exertion. Then, with repeated efforts, aim careful to sink into similar portions over and over again, the origin chosen where the split is expected, it finally will crack open. It's a small victory, but one he gladly takes every time.
Finding that split now, Iskra chases it higher up the trunk, getting the tree marked into sizes they could wrangle. "No, we wouldn't want that," Iskra agrees, wandering a much deadlier outcome in Halo. Though, he wonders how many have strolled over the raised portions of Haulani in Torchline, or waded into the surf and sunken to their demise. The world offers little kindness to those with sharp senses, and even less to those who have dulled them. "The fire would be welcome I'm sure, and Nina's tales could keep everyone entertained, maybe some theater with the flames." Of all the times, Longnight is when they depend on the warm glow of the element most, and Nina becomes most revered. "Fire dancing has always been a thrill," he considers, wondering if Nina knew how to.
Iskra cuts a portion of the main tree away, then splits it further with a heave of effort and practice. He leans his forehead into his shirt sleeve, wiping away some budding sweat before leaning down to collect the now firewood and deposit it in the sled too. "That sounds about right," Iskra chuckles faintly, imagining a time when the worst thing in his life had just been the antics of his siblings. A simpler time. "Before long they'll be fast friends." You know, once the baby could do more than cry, and Erebos' protectiveness might find a foothold.
"I'm not in touch with them anymore," Iskra says with a frown that suggests he wishes it were otherwise sometimes. "But yeah, I have several brothers and sisters. Our parents have passed though, and life has taken them far and wide." It once had not been so, when he was very young, and perhaps the fondness of those times is as much for everyone being together as it had been childhood. "We mostly all got along, but you know how life is. You gotta chase the htings important to you."
Finding that split now, Iskra chases it higher up the trunk, getting the tree marked into sizes they could wrangle. "No, we wouldn't want that," Iskra agrees, wandering a much deadlier outcome in Halo. Though, he wonders how many have strolled over the raised portions of Haulani in Torchline, or waded into the surf and sunken to their demise. The world offers little kindness to those with sharp senses, and even less to those who have dulled them. "The fire would be welcome I'm sure, and Nina's tales could keep everyone entertained, maybe some theater with the flames." Of all the times, Longnight is when they depend on the warm glow of the element most, and Nina becomes most revered. "Fire dancing has always been a thrill," he considers, wondering if Nina knew how to.
Iskra cuts a portion of the main tree away, then splits it further with a heave of effort and practice. He leans his forehead into his shirt sleeve, wiping away some budding sweat before leaning down to collect the now firewood and deposit it in the sled too. "That sounds about right," Iskra chuckles faintly, imagining a time when the worst thing in his life had just been the antics of his siblings. A simpler time. "Before long they'll be fast friends." You know, once the baby could do more than cry, and Erebos' protectiveness might find a foothold.
"I'm not in touch with them anymore," Iskra says with a frown that suggests he wishes it were otherwise sometimes. "But yeah, I have several brothers and sisters. Our parents have passed though, and life has taken them far and wide." It once had not been so, when he was very young, and perhaps the fondness of those times is as much for everyone being together as it had been childhood. "We mostly all got along, but you know how life is. You gotta chase the htings important to you."
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
