Isla
She had been reading, and now she is here. This is a different type of being carried away into a story that Isla is used to; mainly because her book is nothing to do with icy mazes. Furrowing her brow, she glances around and reaches out to let her fingers ghost along the walls, feeling the idea of cold without experiencing it directly.
"How strange." This can't be a dream because Ascended simply don't, but at the same time, her body seems aware that it isn't exactly conscious either. Perhaps she is sick? Perhaps this is what dying is like for an Ascended nowadays? (It hadn't been like this the first time). Regardless, she presses onward, curious and morbid all at the same time.
"How strange." This can't be a dream because Ascended simply don't, but at the same time, her body seems aware that it isn't exactly conscious either. Perhaps she is sick? Perhaps this is what dying is like for an Ascended nowadays? (It hadn't been like this the first time). Regardless, she presses onward, curious and morbid all at the same time.
sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything
and try forgetting everything
