that’s all we were || o, injured(?) + joining || a simple cliché

[Keona.]

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keona sibéal ní faoláin.
the typhoon.
the blind dealer.
information.

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[div style="width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2a4971; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px;"]Idir brí is idir muir, Tá mé i dtiúin

The clang of metal is sudden and surprising enough to cause the tiny dealer to jump.  That wasn't the bell.  The high and clear ring she knew.  But it came from somewhere close.  Her ears flicked back as she quickly heeded the call, pale hues alight with confusion.  Who hit the bars...?

"Alo-" She knew that scent... If just vaguely.  The voice.  Just familiar enough.  "Planecrash?"  Seas.  How long...?

He didn't sound very good.  Breathing off.  Voice coming from a height low to the ground.  Keona feels her brows crease.  She didn't smell blood but... He wasn't well.  "Planecrash...? What's wrong?" She was no healer, but she needed to know.  Maybe she could so something for him.  Help was clearly more pressing than a welcome back.

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© MADI