Isla
The list of things that Isla still doesn't know is as long as her arm and then some. (And honestly, it excites her more than it frustrates her, given her love of knowledge). Even so, she is quite certain that a tree like this does not belong in a climate like Torchline. People are gathered in Haulani under the lights, though the square is emptier than it might otherwise be. It is that dead, late time of night where things go quiet. Witching hours, they call times like these.
Either way, the sapling is a funny little thing, quivering when one brushes a hand over its needles, and it looks more as though it belongs in a snow scene than in the middle of an island. Isla is crouched before it, and there's a reflective glint in her eyes that suggests something other is going on. Indeed, her bio-upgrade is at work, trying to see into the sapling, to figure out what's inside it. Does it have bones? Does it run hot or cold?
So many questions.
Either way, the sapling is a funny little thing, quivering when one brushes a hand over its needles, and it looks more as though it belongs in a snow scene than in the middle of an island. Isla is crouched before it, and there's a reflective glint in her eyes that suggests something other is going on. Indeed, her bio-upgrade is at work, trying to see into the sapling, to figure out what's inside it. Does it have bones? Does it run hot or cold?
So many questions.
passing by, you light up my darkest skies
you take only seconds to draw me in
you take only seconds to draw me in
