when it's just the two of us, only the two of us
Isla hasn't usually thought much of the Festival of Lights - not in any malicious way, it's just that she was dead for most of the ones she'd been around for, and came back to life at another. So this is the first time she's been able to participate, per say, though honestly, she wishes she didn't have to.
It's on quiet feet that she tiptoes through the Wishtide Waterways, glancing over her shoulder every now and then to check that Sunjata is close by. She's not sure she'd be able to stomach doing this alone, and the lantern clutched in her hands is as much dread as it is hope.
She's managed to find a fiddle in the Refuge, having carefully dismantled it enough to reconstruct into something capable of being hung, of holding light. Now the strings and polished wood aren't capable of making music, but they're representative of Varus all the same.
Searching for a suitable place to hang it up, she steps back and glances to the Flood. "Would you mind lighting it?" she asks quietly, not really wanting to catch fire. (Makes a change, given her mindset as of late).
It's on quiet feet that she tiptoes through the Wishtide Waterways, glancing over her shoulder every now and then to check that Sunjata is close by. She's not sure she'd be able to stomach doing this alone, and the lantern clutched in her hands is as much dread as it is hope.
She's managed to find a fiddle in the Refuge, having carefully dismantled it enough to reconstruct into something capable of being hung, of holding light. Now the strings and polished wood aren't capable of making music, but they're representative of Varus all the same.
Searching for a suitable place to hang it up, she steps back and glances to the Flood. "Would you mind lighting it?" she asks quietly, not really wanting to catch fire. (Makes a change, given her mindset as of late).
i could die
Isla
