flowers in your hair

Isla

"Same. I think I will have to make some time for it soon - it has been far too long." She feels guilty, truthfully, for having left it so long, especially since Aamu had led them back from their rest to this land of the living. Squashing down the sour feelings and committing to go and petition for the Voice to see her soon, Isla absently tucks a curl behind her ear. Were she still Accepted she'd be yawning by now, or asleep in her textbook, but as it stands this state of leisurely conversation in the twilight of her home is as good as it gets.

"Purple? You couldn't choose an easy colour," she remarks dryly, though there's a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I am actually learning to paint, if you must know. There's a place in the Grounds called the Artist's Sanctuary. Maybe you ought to join me there one evening."

Raising her eyebrows, the grin she directs across at him can't be anything but shit-eating. "This is my house, Cal. I am as comfortable as it gets," she says. "And so are you, by the look of it." Then, with a sigh of consideration, Isla shifts just a fraction to look at him properly. "To be honest, it's strange to have a visitor. Not a bad strange, obviously. I just can't remember the last time it was more than just me in here."

passing by, you light up my darkest skies
you take only seconds to draw me in