ISLA
"Ophelia," Isla repeats, quickly committing the name to memory. And as her new mixologist partner starts to grind up the Efas herb with the mortar and pestle, Isla gets to work with transferring the sap into the wooden bowl. It's steady going, given how sticky and unmoving the stuff is, and she considers trying to slowly heat it through to make it a little more pliable.
"Me? Oh, I think perhaps about... five years now? But it is complicated. I wasn't alive for all that time," she explains, furrowing her brow to try and think of a better way to phrase it. "I came back during the Festival of Lights - the one in Halo, that the Voice blessed. How about you?"
"Me? Oh, I think perhaps about... five years now? But it is complicated. I wasn't alive for all that time," she explains, furrowing her brow to try and think of a better way to phrase it. "I came back during the Festival of Lights - the one in Halo, that the Voice blessed. How about you?"
apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood
after me comes the flood
