Ophelia
we're just two ghosts
swimming in a glass half empty
swimming in a glass half empty
Isla. A beautiful name, if clearly foreign, and Ophelia endeavors to remember the way it’s pronounced. “Ophelia,” they introduce in turn, taken in by the enthusiasm and geniality the woman displays. Brightening shamelessly at the approval in the older Ascended’s voice.
The ghost tracks the healer with their eyes as she departs, and takes the mortar and pestle with pale hands. Familiar shapes, if higher quality than Phi is used to. “Sounds wonderful,” they sigh happily, turning to the table to set the items down to begin filling the bowl with the herbs. As they begin grinding them down, they turn a curious side-eye towards Isla to watch her own progress. “How long have you lived in the Grounds?” Though circumstantially tied together by persecution and creation, Phi doesn’t want that to be the only basis for companionship between themself and their siblings.
The ghost tracks the healer with their eyes as she departs, and takes the mortar and pestle with pale hands. Familiar shapes, if higher quality than Phi is used to. “Sounds wonderful,” they sigh happily, turning to the table to set the items down to begin filling the bowl with the herbs. As they begin grinding them down, they turn a curious side-eye towards Isla to watch her own progress. “How long have you lived in the Grounds?” Though circumstantially tied together by persecution and creation, Phi doesn’t want that to be the only basis for companionship between themself and their siblings.
trying vainly to forget
the pain that came with heartbeats
the pain that came with heartbeats
