picknicking

[dark_light]

There's something unutterably pleasant about landing in a bit of woods in the middle of Nowhere, Manitoba, removing a sandwich and an apple from her backpack and having a picnic before she's ready to move on. She could eat in midair, but it makes it too likely that she'll drop something and find it unrecoverable.

Path's on her knee, and her cloudpine is propped up against the tree next to her.

Comments

[dark_light]

"You have, but I can stand to hear it as often as you care to remind me."

[prodigal_miser]

He grins. "I'll need to space it out, so it's always a pleasant surprise."

[dark_light]

"Whatever floats your boat," she laughs. "I wanna go fly around under the stars for a while before I go to bed. Do you want to come along?"

[prodigal_miser]

"I don't get to fly nearly often enough to turn down the chance to. Sure."

[dark_light]

And so there is flying, and Isabella attempts vainly to describe the feel of starlight, and then there is sleep.

Time passes.