Isla
"Yes," Isla informs him seriously, "and it was very rude of you not to consider colours that didn't fall under that description." She can't keep up the serious facade for long, the smile threatening to twitch at her lips, and she shrugs her shoulders. "Fine. Purple it is," she says, knowing neither how to knit, nor where she will get any purple wool from. It isn't exactly a common dye in the Hollowed Grounds. "And I'm also a horrid painter. I only really sketch anatomy for notes, so it has been a steep learning curve." At least they can laugh at each other.
They're both comfortable, then, and it's only a little bit awkward-as-hell. But Isla supposes that her entertaining skills are very rusty, even for an ex-duchess, and so she sits up as Varus takes pity and injects his charisma (as seems to be the custom in their conversation) into the problem. "Board games?" She chuckles. "I don't have any. I have paper and pencils, though - we could play hangman, or tic tac toe, or pictionary?"
They're both comfortable, then, and it's only a little bit awkward-as-hell. But Isla supposes that her entertaining skills are very rusty, even for an ex-duchess, and so she sits up as Varus takes pity and injects his charisma (as seems to be the custom in their conversation) into the problem. "Board games?" She chuckles. "I don't have any. I have paper and pencils, though - we could play hangman, or tic tac toe, or pictionary?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies
you take only seconds to draw me in
you take only seconds to draw me in
