ISLA
Isla notices the fresh wrinkle in his shirt, and were this any other time she might have smirked at the careless disregard for her fussing. But here and now, under the battering rain and a leathery wing for shelter, she does little more than let it be. She does reach up, however, to gently grip his jaw, giving it a playful squish between her fingers as if to remind him to please not crack his teeth.
As it happens, though, there's a black secret broiling in the Flood that's about to surface, though as he begins, it sounds so innocuous. "Listen, someone had to be confident and optimistic," she tells him gently. "We were confident too, against the dragons. Everything started out so well, and we just--"
But he's still going, and as the dark truth of it comes out, while her eyebrows raise, Isla is hardly in a place to judge. But that's the worst part, right? Maybe Sunjata wants to be judged. "Phoebe. Didn't you...?" Something something marriage something miscarriage something? Forgive her, Isla had been dead at the time.
She doesn't try to make him look at her, shifting instead to her knees so she can gather him against her chest this time, not caring if the change in position knocks his wing out of the way. A downpour is nothing compared to what they've lived through. "I know he's not around to say it," she whispers. "But I forgive you. Just because things weren't bad in the Refuge, it doesn't mean they were easy."
As it happens, though, there's a black secret broiling in the Flood that's about to surface, though as he begins, it sounds so innocuous. "Listen, someone had to be confident and optimistic," she tells him gently. "We were confident too, against the dragons. Everything started out so well, and we just--"
But he's still going, and as the dark truth of it comes out, while her eyebrows raise, Isla is hardly in a place to judge. But that's the worst part, right? Maybe Sunjata wants to be judged. "Phoebe. Didn't you...?" Something something marriage something miscarriage something? Forgive her, Isla had been dead at the time.
She doesn't try to make him look at her, shifting instead to her knees so she can gather him against her chest this time, not caring if the change in position knocks his wing out of the way. A downpour is nothing compared to what they've lived through. "I know he's not around to say it," she whispers. "But I forgive you. Just because things weren't bad in the Refuge, it doesn't mean they were easy."
apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood
after me comes the flood
