we're always running scared but holding knives
She's like putty in his hands as he shifts her leg from his shoulder, kissing away the blood on his neck and relaxing her arms around him. Humming a note of satisfaction and sinking deeply into the bed, it takes a few moments for Isla to come around enough to want to speak, let alone to manage it. "I needed this," she mumbles, her fingertips following the pattern of scars on Sunjata's body.
It's an itch he's managed to scratch that she might have clawed out in more destructive ways otherwise, and although she can still feel grief dragging low in her belly, it's far away enough to ignore for the time being. Smiling lopsidedly, Isla leans up to press a gentle kiss to the Flood's lips, almost wanting to say thank you but knowing that it will only sound weird. "Do you want to get a drink?" she asks instead.
It's an itch he's managed to scratch that she might have clawed out in more destructive ways otherwise, and although she can still feel grief dragging low in her belly, it's far away enough to ignore for the time being. Smiling lopsidedly, Isla leans up to press a gentle kiss to the Flood's lips, almost wanting to say thank you but knowing that it will only sound weird. "Do you want to get a drink?" she asks instead.
Isla
