it's a harrowing thought, knowing that everyone around you would one day be gone. death was natural, the inevitable end to their mortal lives, cyclical as their existences are; but there is nothing natural about the lives set to expire by the whims of a petulant god. it was one thing to know your death would one day come, long after you've lived a life filled with journeys through adventure in good company, and another to see the ticking clock in eye of the sun, warning you that soon, the paintress would have your life. where days that should have been filled with the joys of celebrating life, toasts to living another year more, the world and its people are cursed to settle in mourning.
what little joy there is to have, sona does her best to share. and perhaps that joy, now, is in the amusement of her face twisting dramatically, her nose scrunching up as her lips spread wide with disgust. she thrusts the bottle of wine over to gustave as she swallows the last of the soured wine down, hoping that perhaps it wasn't that the wine is bad, but that it didn't quite suit her taste. extending an arm into a wave, sona dips into a playful curtsy, rising to sign, " yuck! you try it, tell me if i'm crazy, or if it does taste awful. "
@forlumiere / starter call.