Isla
"I'm sorry," Isla mumbles, shifting to smooth her hands across the front of his shirt, as if there are creases she's trying to get rid of (there aren't, but it's an excuse not to look at him). "I'm not blind. I know it's difficult for you to be around me, and I don't want that for you. I just... can't stay away, either. You mean too much to me." And from her experience, things would be just as frustrating whether she was six feet away or climbing onto his shoulders.
She wrinkles her nose, part apology and part understanding, at the landscape of current affairs he presents. "That sounds very boring," she mumbles. "I haven't though, no. I did get your letter, and I posted a notice in the Grounds about it. What an odd place for a god to end up," she says, smirking a bit. "Getting himself into trouble, being grumpy if he's disturbed... sounds a lot like you."
She wrinkles her nose, part apology and part understanding, at the landscape of current affairs he presents. "That sounds very boring," she mumbles. "I haven't though, no. I did get your letter, and I posted a notice in the Grounds about it. What an odd place for a god to end up," she says, smirking a bit. "Getting himself into trouble, being grumpy if he's disturbed... sounds a lot like you."
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight
we're always running scared but holding knives
we're always running scared but holding knives
