Isla
"Sunjata," Isla admonishes gently, as if trying to beat him to it, and as she gazes back up at him, there's nothing but sincerity in her pebble blues. "I'm sorry - and I understand. You know I do," she whispers, having felt the loss carved by death and grief very, very intimately. "It's been a long night of drinking and seeing other people happy, that's all." And envy hurts as much as losing someone, that much Isla can say personally.
"So please, don't feel like you need to answer, or justify yourself." Because gods, the hurt in his voice is enough to drive a rod of ice through her spine, and after everything else tonight, she can't bear that. "Partners, okay?" Nothing more, despite whatever happens in these moments between them.
"So please, don't feel like you need to answer, or justify yourself." Because gods, the hurt in his voice is enough to drive a rod of ice through her spine, and after everything else tonight, she can't bear that. "Partners, okay?" Nothing more, despite whatever happens in these moments between them.
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
