that doesn’t mean what you think it means

Torchline was a different kettle of fish compared to the Hollowed Grounds, or even the Greatwood. The Grounds were horrific, giving Vervain the occasional nightmare even now, and the woods were quiet and dark and calm. But here - everything was an excuse for a party, apparently. And hell, Vai wasn’t about to complain. She sat in the sand before one of the bonfires along the beach, face lit up by the ruddy light, a bottle of something in her hands. Someone played music a ways away, the sound of the guitar gently drifting across the shore. All things considered, this was a pretty sweet way to spend the week of darkness. vervain well i'll rest my eyes and i'll let the earth breathe