Isla
"I'm not sure what sort I am any more, to be frank," Isla says with a soft chuckle. "Or maybe I'm just lying because I am lonely." She shrugs, because it hardly matters either way. There's lonely because of a lack of company, and lonely because you are the last of your kind. Either way, it's all starting to wax a bit lyrical to the medic.
She shakes her head softly at the offer about the coals, trusting the breeze (and its current trajectory) to keep the majority of the heat away from her. "I didn't come here to impose on you," she says, "and a fire can be hard to start again once it's out." Besides, the cold won't kill her, but the same can't be said of Morgen.
As for her people, the weight of even thinking about it is enough to clog the words in her throat, and so she merely shakes her head. There are too many skeletons in that particular closet, and all of them are people she once knew. "It's done," she murmurs eventually, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "No use dwelling on it now."
She shakes her head softly at the offer about the coals, trusting the breeze (and its current trajectory) to keep the majority of the heat away from her. "I didn't come here to impose on you," she says, "and a fire can be hard to start again once it's out." Besides, the cold won't kill her, but the same can't be said of Morgen.
As for her people, the weight of even thinking about it is enough to clog the words in her throat, and so she merely shakes her head. There are too many skeletons in that particular closet, and all of them are people she once knew. "It's done," she murmurs eventually, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "No use dwelling on it now."
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
