You're my lighthouse in the darkness when the storm is comin' in
With his back to the bonfire blazing merrily behind him, hand curled around a beer freshly acquired from The Last Word, Iskra has just finished settling on the beach towel spread over the sand. Much like collecting snacks and a cozy blanket in preparation for a movie, so Iskra has assembled himself, and Melita, for the spectacle of the long evening.
One leg is crossed over the other at the ankle, one of his flipflops threatening to flip right off and flop onto the sand. His pale legs reflect almost eerily in the fightlight, feet rimmed by the blue glow of the bioluminescence that repeatedly breaks on the waves and moving people along the shoreline. His black hoodie keeps him warm while his forest green board shorts keep him in line with Torchline beachwear.
"So is the goal to be the fastest or just to stay on?" he wonders alound, head tilting over his shoulder to direct his gaze to the Honeybee. She should know everything about her region, he'd stand to reason, despite not being able to claim the same of his own.
One leg is crossed over the other at the ankle, one of his flipflops threatening to flip right off and flop onto the sand. His pale legs reflect almost eerily in the fightlight, feet rimmed by the blue glow of the bioluminescence that repeatedly breaks on the waves and moving people along the shoreline. His black hoodie keeps him warm while his forest green board shorts keep him in line with Torchline beachwear.
"So is the goal to be the fastest or just to stay on?" he wonders alound, head tilting over his shoulder to direct his gaze to the Honeybee. She should know everything about her region, he'd stand to reason, despite not being able to claim the same of his own.
Iskra
Lookin' in your eyes, there's my whole damn life
