Life is tough my darling, but so are you.
The annoyance threatens to radiate off her skin in waves. How is she supposed to bury secret treasure with witnesses? Although he seems uninterested in her or her purpose, the quiet ones usually squeal the loudest. She won't have greedy thieves coming to steal her bounty. So the only alternative is to patiently wait for his departure.
At his words, Thal watches the Fyrhund approach, suspicious of the "coincidence" of so many Ancients in one spot. Did they known I was coming here? She doubts it. After all, she hadn't known herself until about an hour ago. And why would they care about her small boon? Are they meeting each other? Her head swivels between them in silent skepticism. They don't appear to know each other, but there also hasn't been a lot to go on.
Settling on restraint and observation, Thal sneers at him in disgust. "Don't call me 'dear'." She then proceeds to find a rocky outcrop on the side of the lighthouse where the sun has soaked into the surface. With the grace of a stalking cat, Thal takes a seat and resolves to bask in the sunlight until the interlopers decide to leave. Her back leans against the stones, absorbing each degree of heat, while her legs cross in expectance. A look of disinterest disguises the irritation lingering beneath.
At his words, Thal watches the Fyrhund approach, suspicious of the "coincidence" of so many Ancients in one spot. Did they known I was coming here? She doubts it. After all, she hadn't known herself until about an hour ago. And why would they care about her small boon? Are they meeting each other? Her head swivels between them in silent skepticism. They don't appear to know each other, but there also hasn't been a lot to go on.
Settling on restraint and observation, Thal sneers at him in disgust. "Don't call me 'dear'." She then proceeds to find a rocky outcrop on the side of the lighthouse where the sun has soaked into the surface. With the grace of a stalking cat, Thal takes a seat and resolves to bask in the sunlight until the interlopers decide to leave. Her back leans against the stones, absorbing each degree of heat, while her legs cross in expectance. A look of disinterest disguises the irritation lingering beneath.
Thalassa
