Isla
She knows him well enough now to hear when his agreements ring hollow, and rather than argue, Isla merely tilts her head to rest it against his shoulder as he steps into the Inn. Still in what could arguably be called a drunken haze (if it isn't obvious by the intensity of everything thus far), the Remedy nevertheless wisely keeps her gaze from Sunjata while he puppets himself through small talk and manages to get them a room to stay in for the night.
And she's in agreement with him at first, grateful and surprised in equal measure, until she actually steps into the room (totters, more accurately) and spies the four poster bed, the suspiciously heart shaped aesthetics, the ever-so-romantic view. "Gods, they think we just got married," she blurts, raking her fingers through her hair. "I... no. I'm not thinking about it," she decides, slipping off her sandals and trying to ignore the pale glow of the moonlit ocean.
It would actually be hilarious were it not for their very recent conversation, and as she glances back towards Sunjata, it's all too easy to see the bruises and tension beneath the charming exterior. "Come here?" she says suddenly.
And she's in agreement with him at first, grateful and surprised in equal measure, until she actually steps into the room (totters, more accurately) and spies the four poster bed, the suspiciously heart shaped aesthetics, the ever-so-romantic view. "Gods, they think we just got married," she blurts, raking her fingers through her hair. "I... no. I'm not thinking about it," she decides, slipping off her sandals and trying to ignore the pale glow of the moonlit ocean.
It would actually be hilarious were it not for their very recent conversation, and as she glances back towards Sunjata, it's all too easy to see the bruises and tension beneath the charming exterior. "Come here?" she says suddenly.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard
When you hit me, hit me hard
