AURELIA
and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be
maybe they never will be
Aurelia scoffed, though not in mockery of what he was saying. She actually found it ironic, because that's pretty much what had happened to her. "Yeah, well, at least you're already here, so you know you won't get whisked away from your home world to some crazy place called Caido," she raised her eyebrows with a grin, "unless the Voice decides she hates you and just... gives you a good ole toss!"
She frowned in doubtful confusion at his compliment of her lantern, again surprised by his reaction. Although, she supposed anything he did could technically come off as a surprise to her - she had only just met him. But from what she'd seen of him, he had an endearing kind of personality that was hard for her to dislike. "It is the first, thanks..." she softened her expression, trying to allow herself to feel more positive. Even if the symbol on the lantern was fucking haunting her, it was something she'd built to honor her parents. She glanced over at it again and explained, "I made it for my parents. That symbol on the sides, it was their logo. They put it on everything they made," she glanced back over at him and pointed out, "they were smiths, owned an armory together."
Milo's furrowed brows made her shake her head in exasperation, not because he'd done anything wrong. She didn't quite want to answer him about it. But she attempted to simplify it anyway. Maybe he could see what she was seeing, actually. "Well, my father was killed in a fire that burned down our family shop with him. They never did catch who did it," she tilted her head at the lantern she'd crafted. She pointed at the shapes that came together to form one painfully obvious symbol; a flame.
"What does that look like to you?"
She frowned in doubtful confusion at his compliment of her lantern, again surprised by his reaction. Although, she supposed anything he did could technically come off as a surprise to her - she had only just met him. But from what she'd seen of him, he had an endearing kind of personality that was hard for her to dislike. "It is the first, thanks..." she softened her expression, trying to allow herself to feel more positive. Even if the symbol on the lantern was fucking haunting her, it was something she'd built to honor her parents. She glanced over at it again and explained, "I made it for my parents. That symbol on the sides, it was their logo. They put it on everything they made," she glanced back over at him and pointed out, "they were smiths, owned an armory together."
Milo's furrowed brows made her shake her head in exasperation, not because he'd done anything wrong. She didn't quite want to answer him about it. But she attempted to simplify it anyway. Maybe he could see what she was seeing, actually. "Well, my father was killed in a fire that burned down our family shop with him. They never did catch who did it," she tilted her head at the lantern she'd crafted. She pointed at the shapes that came together to form one painfully obvious symbol; a flame.
"What does that look like to you?"
but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep
when you're ready to sleep
