good night, sweet prince

Isla doesn't try to tell him it's alright, doesn't try to alleviate guilt she knows he'll carry forever, no matter what she says. Her arms tighten around him, her cheek pressed to his curls (a mistake, since there's more than one twig and thorn nestled in there by this point, she thinks), and a soft laugh bubbles up in her throat as he lifts her off the ground. "I'm here now," she whispers, nodding in agreement with the words he doesn't say. That's for later. Now was a culmination of conversations they'd never been able to have, when she was in another body and he was a different man. "They're all long stories," she murmurs. "Just start with the basics. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" She can grab anything he might be lacking from the Grounds, she thinks. ISLA pray for me pray to me