Ismene.
Ismene.
And all the small, winged anxieties took to the air in her chest at the sound of Marisol's voice. Like moths drawn to her heart instead of a flame, they threw themselves against her vital organ with the same insistence. It was so sudden and intense that she felt like she might throw up. Izzie flicked an ear backwards in acknowledgement, her mouth opening and closing without making a sound as stared at the pages in front of her. If she could just get through this without making a mistake, perhaps talking to Marisol for a moment would feel like a reward and not a cruel punishment. She didn't want the Sovereign to see her fail. Her determination renewed, Izzie blazed through the last few pages that she had to re-transcribe. Ismene stared so intently that she could feel her eyes well up from concentration and her stubborn unwillingness to blink.
There. It was finished. A soft musical shuffling of the papers and a firm, final tap on the edge of a nearby table consolidated her work. Breathing out a long-held gasp, Ismene laid them flat and finally turned to address Marisol. "Mari," she began, before a sick look flashed across her face. "Mmmm," she continued, stilling butchering the moment.
"Marisol. Or would you prefer a title now?" Ismene finally said. Her own words sounded strange and unintelligent in the face of the Sovereign's confident, dulcet tones. Had she detected a moment of pleasure at their meeting? Impossible. Marisol was much too busy to be doing things like missing her (or thinking about her at all). Izzie looked over her shoulder and lifted a wing to gesture towards the papers. "Just dropping off a report and then I'll be on my way." Of course, she hadn't been outside for a good few hours now. The icy winds would keep her grounded until the precipitation trickled to a halt. Ismene wasn't a strong flyer in the best circumstances. Taking to the skies in a winter squall was a near death sentence, if only for the severe anxiety it would cause her. A panic attack would send her spiraling straight towards the ground, limbs limp and unresponsive.
A spattering of hail clinked against one of the library's large windows. Izzie turned and stared, her ears saddling to the sides in disappointment. "Or not. Looks like I'll be stuck here for a while." Winter was her least favorite season. Usually she spend the entire time cloistered with the unit, dutifully taking notes until springtime, but they'd had such a spate of clear weather lately that the brilliant blue winter skies had seemed irresistibly safe. Still turned towards the window, almost unable to look at her, Izzie continued: "I imagine things have been busy. How are you holding up?"
