Issac had gotten up from his kneeling position, one he would have made some kind of comment or tease about had she not taken the conversation down a more serious path. The crash of beaded against one another shuttered to life as Issac moved through the beaded curtain that separated the bedroom/bathroom from the kitchen/living room. While the trailers tended to reflect their owners and so many wanted luxury to their small homes, Issac's appeared more traditional of a caravan.
With his back turned to her the grin on his face fell as she spoke. In a chipper voice though, he replied, "I don't sleep because I've never slept, silly. People are awake at all hours whether in town or in the Cirque."
His offer of explanation fell flat to her next comments. Pouring out one drink and grabbing the bottle, he returned, handing her the bottle and returned to sitting on the floor. "I am doing fine. I've been like this since before I arrived, like when I was 8 or something. As my magic grows so does the wingspan."
Issac did not remember his nightmares, nor the reason he did not want to sleep, only that he had a sense of dread when it came to sleeping. If Issac could sleep soundly he would have more control over his magic instead of the chaotic mess it tended to be. One on one rituals ended with odd side-effects, but he still tried them anyhow. The warlock embraced the chaotic side to his magic. All he knew for certain was when he tried to sleep the voices became louder, the talisman keeping them all at bay loosened its grip.