Isla
"Oh? I do not remember my first time seeing snow." It brings a soft smile to her lips, imagining a grown man experiencing something like that for the first time. Isla lives for those moments, those first times, and she follows after him into the clinic to peer around, her curiosity snatched by the sight of it. It's her first visit to a functioning medical space like this in a very long time, and she drifts over to the reception area as Sunjata continues.
"What's in here?" she asks, having noticed his consistent fondling of the box he's been carrying. Then of course the conversation goes back to his scars, and her pebble blues track all the way up his arm, beneath his clothes to where she imagines the pink, spiderwebbing lines continue. "That sounds painful - I'm glad you're alright. I'd offer to try and make something for you, to help fade them. But your husband is a doctor." There's no need doesn't have to be said, she assumes.
"What's in here?" she asks, having noticed his consistent fondling of the box he's been carrying. Then of course the conversation goes back to his scars, and her pebble blues track all the way up his arm, beneath his clothes to where she imagines the pink, spiderwebbing lines continue. "That sounds painful - I'm glad you're alright. I'd offer to try and make something for you, to help fade them. But your husband is a doctor." There's no need doesn't have to be said, she assumes.
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight
we're always running scared but holding knives
we're always running scared but holding knives
