we're always running scared but holding knives
Ordinarily Isla is very good company, happy and willing to engage Sunjata in conversation, but tonight things couldn't be further from the truth. Only at his insistence did she nod and allow him to walk her home, her hands buried in her coat pockets, her golden hair dishevelled and her eyes on the ground. "Hm?" She glances up as he speaks, a small smile tugging at her lips as she nods. "Yes, that's the main thing," she says. "He can speak with the Voice about an upgrade when he is back."
She doesn't notice which way they're going, following Sunjata's lead and dropping her eyes back towards the cobblestones. As for how she's holding up, she shakes her head even if it's barely perceptible. "Remi wrote me a letter," she mumbles. "He has gone to Ludo, to forget me for good. He will never recognise me again, or remember who we were to each other. And I..." Exhaling shakily, she shakes her head.
"I don't know how I am, Jata."
She doesn't notice which way they're going, following Sunjata's lead and dropping her eyes back towards the cobblestones. As for how she's holding up, she shakes her head even if it's barely perceptible. "Remi wrote me a letter," she mumbles. "He has gone to Ludo, to forget me for good. He will never recognise me again, or remember who we were to each other. And I..." Exhaling shakily, she shakes her head.
"I don't know how I am, Jata."
Isla
