ISLA
"Oh, I see. I'm sorry," Isla says, the apology in her expression as well as in her words. Holding the bowl to allow Ophelia to transfer the herbs into it, she waits until as much is in there as possible before (painstakingly) stirring them together. This is easier than the first part, at least, and she does glance up with a warm smile for her new acquaintance. "That's true, yes. You do," she agrees.
As for Torchline and the stones? "You know, I have often thought the same. But then we do not need to breathe, and I believe it is the breath in our lungs that causes us to bob up to the surface. Perhaps we don't need anything to tie us down." Speaking of which, though, Isla holds out the bucket one last time. "Could you put the glowstones in, please?"
As for Torchline and the stones? "You know, I have often thought the same. But then we do not need to breathe, and I believe it is the breath in our lungs that causes us to bob up to the surface. Perhaps we don't need anything to tie us down." Speaking of which, though, Isla holds out the bucket one last time. "Could you put the glowstones in, please?"
apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood
after me comes the flood
