Isla
Isla flinches at the voice that echoes in her head, familiar and yet so different that she has to take a second to double check she really recognises it. The book slips from her hands to thump onto the floor, her claws retracting to leave her fingertips soft once more. "Cal?" She does relax, though it's short lived as he motions to the knife in his side; Isla is straightening up properly in only a few moments, stepping past him to click the door shut and keep out the rain even as he's taking off his mask.
It's definitely him, but everything from the posture to the tone of voice suggests otherwise; briefly, she wonders if this is the other man he's mentioned people keep mistaking him for. But no - he's called her by name, and she'd know that arm anywhere. The knife is new, though. "What happened?" she asks, gesturing for him to come over to the couch she's turned into a bed.
It's covered in a few bits and bobs right now, Isla moving them onto the coffee table, though she's focused too much on him to check it's entirely clear. "The mask is new. A lot of this is new," she says softly.
It's definitely him, but everything from the posture to the tone of voice suggests otherwise; briefly, she wonders if this is the other man he's mentioned people keep mistaking him for. But no - he's called her by name, and she'd know that arm anywhere. The knife is new, though. "What happened?" she asks, gesturing for him to come over to the couch she's turned into a bed.
It's covered in a few bits and bobs right now, Isla moving them onto the coffee table, though she's focused too much on him to check it's entirely clear. "The mask is new. A lot of this is new," she says softly.
sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything
and try forgetting everything
