may the bridges i have burned light my way back home

Isla take your medicine Isla waits patiently for him to speak, nodding as he begins and getting herself more comfortable in the seat. She has to resist the urge to reach for more parchment, to jot notes as he speaks, and her hands fold in her lap as if to prevent such a thing from happening unconsciously. She instead gives Sunjata her full attention, nodding as he explains. "And your father conducted 'business' with you in that foyer after you were captured," she guesses, from his remarks about the blood, from the way he had been touching his fingers to his neck. Her expression is quietly open, inviting him to divulge more if he wishes. There is no anger or pity on Isla's face, no judgement or sadness - he deserves more than that from her. "I can understand why that sort of experience would stick with a person." To put it mildly. "Were you ever able to speak with him about it?"