Isla
"Ah, of course," Isla says as Wessex produces the Knowtbook, easing herself down to sit opposite the Wraith and brace herself for the aforementioned trouble. When it comes, though, gods if it doesn't hit like a freight train (or it would if Isla knew what one of those was). She hadn't known Adam - not particularly well, anyway, but it still stings a bit. And Bastien, that one hurts more; she had liked him, flamboyant and eccentric and bright in all the ways that reminded her that they were still human.
But gods, it's Sam that really sticks the knife in. Hardened by battle and having seen the worst of war, Isla doesn't bawl or sob, but the fluid that she quickly swipes from her cheek may as well have been a scream. "Oh gods," she whispers - and there's more. "Edrei and Amun...? And Nate, too?" She's shaking her head now, uncomprehending.
"Why didn't you stop them?" she asks, unable to help herself. "Stormbreak is... I didn't even know we could go there. What did they do?" Did they start the war, is what she means, unaware as of yet of the Wraith's contribution.
But gods, it's Sam that really sticks the knife in. Hardened by battle and having seen the worst of war, Isla doesn't bawl or sob, but the fluid that she quickly swipes from her cheek may as well have been a scream. "Oh gods," she whispers - and there's more. "Edrei and Amun...? And Nate, too?" She's shaking her head now, uncomprehending.
"Why didn't you stop them?" she asks, unable to help herself. "Stormbreak is... I didn't even know we could go there. What did they do?" Did they start the war, is what she means, unaware as of yet of the Wraith's contribution.
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
