Can't change the weather

Thalassa

In the back of my mind, I'm still overseas

The place Asta had recommended turned out really cozy. Tucked into the forest's shadow at the edge of Levinsward, it was protected from the brunt of snow and rain. Lightning was close enough to feel the slight charge of the air, but far enough to safely admiring in the open. She was also the perfect distance from Jack Tarr, providing easy access for her crew if they were willing to go through the effort of traversing the glade. With any luck, most would decide it wasn't, scaring away any drunk misconceptions that she'd let them sleep on her couch - which they'd moved into the space just minutes ago. 

After hours of moving furniture into the upper-floor studio, the crew had decided it was time to christen her house with a good, old fashioned pirate drinking contest. Luckily, the owner who lived beneath was frequently traveling, including today, leaving them to be as loud and obnoxious as they wanted. 

Thal might have joined them, but the thick discoordination of her tongue had her seeking solitude. She sat upon the stairs to her new apartment, the cold air making her cringe. A small lamp served as a source for her flames, pulling them through her fingers to stay warm. It heated the glass of whiskey in her hand, but she didn't mind; there was a whole bottle next to her. 

Still well within her faculties, she tried to manipulate her tongue to obey. "Leth - leth - lether." Growling darkly, she took a gulp of alcohol, secretly hoping it might be a magical cure. She'd managed to keep her new difficulties from the crew's notice, avoiding the elusive 's' sound, choosing her words carefully, or staying silent. They hadn't noticed yet, but she hoped to have it fixed before they did. The problem was that she needed practice. And she hated it. 

Filled with deep frustration, she poured herself another glass. Staring into the amber liquid like it was the source of all her problems, she started slowly, "Leeeettth -" She clamped down again, the fire along her fingertips flaring with the emotion. She sounded like an idiot blowing a raspberry. Shaking her head, she verbally cursed the spirit who'd cursed her, using every colorful word she knew that didn't involve an 's' (which was a lot).

Vesper arrives at the Levinsward beneath a rumbling sky that seems to spark with every breath he draws. He’s dressed for the biting cold, a long coat of dark, heavy fabric pulled tight at the waist to shield his lean frame from the wind slicing through the barren stretch of grassland. Static dances along its hem, crackling whenever he steps through the frosted stalks. The roar of thunder in the distance does little to mask the sharp tsss of lightning striking the ground over and over.

He’s here—ostensibly—to follow up on a tip about a smuggler’s stash rumoured to be hidden somewhere in these storm-scorched fields. In truth, though, Vesper isn’t sure he’ll even bother searching tonight. When he senses a flare of raw emotion rippling across his mental radar—anger, shame, frustration—Vesper pauses. Something about a curse that’s twisted a tongue. He picks up the taste of that bitterness with the innate ease of his telepathy. Rounding a corner of what passes for a settlement, he spots a small building tucked amid the skeletal silhouette of leafless trees. There, on the stairs, is Thalassa, hunched over a glass of whiskey, flame dancing at her fingertips like it’s the only warmth left in this desolate place.

Vesper lets a low whistle slip past his lips, though it’s nearly lost to a roll of distant thunder. "Some fuckin' weather, huh?" he offers by way of greeting, his voice pitched to carry above the wind. A casual swagger carries him closer, and he hitches a thumb over his shoulder at the chaotic skies. "Mind if I wait out the next lightning strike with you?" he asks, as though his reason for being out here is purely incidental. His gaze flicks to the bottle at her side, arching a brow.  "Bein' tall ain't doin' me any favours out here."

I'm pedal to the metal make no mistake, this is my pity party, pity party
& I'm living out of time, eternal heatstroke

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Thalassa

In the back of my mind, I'm still overseas

The whistle blends with the winds catching the paneling of the building next to her, but the drawling voice is familiar, drawing her attention away from the building anger and frustration. It's strange to see the young man in such a different place than the bright sunshine of the Suvahasi. The darkness punctuated by flashes of lightning seems to fit him better, caressing his figure in a manner that reminds her of the magic he'd utilized. A grunt is the only response she gives to his attempt at a greeting. It's Levinsward, there's never a day not like this. That's exactly why she picked it. To be alone. Although that wasn't really working for her. 

Glancing up at the warm light framing the door atop the stairs, she takes a moment to listen to the shouts and cheers of her crew. By the sheer volume, she'd assume they just started another drinking match, and someone's winning. So, it's either sit out here with this stranger who just sauntered out of the woods or return to the chaos of the men above. 

Thal nods towards the man (it was Vesper, right?), granting him permission to join her. Even if he turns out to be annoying, at least he's nice to look at. That's more than she can say for the majority of her sailors. Although she swears, if he makes fun of her lisp, the flames licking her fingers will find better uses down his throat. As if hearing her thoughts, they flare slightly, heating her glass warmly against her hand. 

His comment about height elicits a humorless chuckle and she gestures to the stairs with her free hand. "Maybe thry thitting." The words aren't as biting as they could be, softened by the lisp and her own shift of mood. But if he doesn't want to get fried (by her or the lightning), it's probably safest just to sit (at least that's the word she was trying to say). She scoots to the side to make room, her dark blue-black tail flicking away to avoid being flattened if he takes her offer. Once settled, she raises the whiskey bottle in something that might resemble 'politeness.' "Drink?" Her blue eyes raise to meet his, both invitation and fiery temper burning bright.

Vesper raises his eyebrows slightly at the unspoken warning laced through Thalassa’s thoughts. If he was planning on mocking her lisp, he certainly isn't now; the demigod has no desire to be electrocuted or burned to a crisp tonight, thank you very much.

Instead, he just tilts his head, watching her for a beat before lowering himself onto the step below hers. The cold seeps through the stone, but he doesn’t seem to mind, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The storm flickers across his sharp features, turning his pale skin to molten silver in the brief flashes of lightning. Shadows coil in the hollows of his face, a trick of the storm that has his ever-moving freckle constellations seeming to jump from place to place. "Good idea," he drawls, flicking his gaze toward the sky as another fork of lightning carves through the storm-heavy clouds. 'I’d rather not test just how good my luck is."

When she offers the whiskey, he nods in quiet thanks, taking the bottle from her grasp. The glass is warm from the heat still licking at her fingers, and he rolls it absently between his palms before knocking back a sip. The burn slides down smooth, warming him in a way the storm never could. He lets it settle before turning the bottle idly in his hands, casting her a sidelong glance.

"Last time I saw you, you were helpin’ cut down that oversized viper," he muses, just in case she'd forgotten or couldn't quite place him. "Figure out what you’re doin’ with the scales yet?"

I'm pedal to the metal make no mistake, this is my pity party, pity party
& I'm living out of time, eternal heatstroke

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Thalassa

In the back of my mind, I'm still overseas

Watching Vesper take a seat, she flattens the hair that threatens to lift slightly from where it falls down her back. Luckily, her blue-black horns make it hard for the dark hair to get far, but the sensation reminds her of all the creepy sensations she's been getting lately. And the way the shadows continue to hug the man before her, she wonders if it's just people like him messing with everyone. Perhaps his sisters have similar abilities along with mischievous minds. 

Less than concerned about his level of luck, Thal just shrugs her shoulders. Obviously, her luck hasn't been great lately, so she can't really spare a single ounce of sympathy for him. However, liquor is made to be shared, and she lets him take the bottle from her grasp without encouraging her flames to lick at his skin. She's quite proud of herself for that one. 

The stairs dig into her back when she leans back to admire another strike of lightning. Its light accents Vesper's words and she scoffs, flicking her flame-covered hand in dismissal. "Noth yeth. The thpiritth have it outh for me ath the moment." And even if Dygra had answered her prayer, her daggers were her first priority. Perhaps once her tongue had learned to behave, she'd brave the shrine again. For now, she glances sideways in return. "You?" She remembers him saying something about his sister, but that word is a little too hard to say right now, so she leaves it vague. He could take it as her forgetting or lack of true interest. She couldn't care less.

Vesper raises his eyebrows as Thalassa’s words spill out, her lisp growing more pronounced with each syllable. He nods slowly as she explains that the spirits have it out for her at the moment. "So, is that what's got you talkin' like your tongue is all swollen?" His tone is light, but there's genuine curiosity beneath the jest as his dark brows rise. After a pause, he adds, "They say what it'll take to make it go away?"

As for the scales? He tilts his head, letting the storm’s flickering light catch the shifting constellations on his skin, and offers a slow shrug. "I’m thinkin’ of turnin' 'em into a bit of armour for one of my sisters," he remarks casually. "I’m a triplet, and one of my sister's all about rainbows and shit just like this. Of course," he sighs softly. "I’d need to find somethin' for the other one so she doesn't feel felt out." His words hang between them as the storm rumbles overhead, and while Vesper's tone might suggest that he's annoyed at the prospect of one good deed demanding another, there's an affectionate twinkle in the corner of his eyes as he speaks of Nova and Caly that very much hints at his fondness for his siblings.

I'm pedal to the metal make no mistake, this is my pity party, pity party
& I'm living out of time, eternal heatstroke

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Thalassa

In the back of my mind, I'm still overseas

The specific mention of her lisp makes Thal's blue eyes narrow, fire flaring for a moment as she considers leaving in a blaze, a charred cadaver in her wake. His genuine curiosity might be the only thing that saves him, and the fact that he doesn't seem to mock her, just state the obvious. Not that it helps her pride much. 

She pointedly takes the whiskey bottle from his grasp, her flames just far enough from his own hand not to burn. Although her blazing eyes might be enough to singe. "Yeth." It's succinct, daring him to say anything insulting as she throws down another mouthful of whiskey. As it slides into her core, she says, "If you mutht know, thongue twithters." Her tongue fumbles over the words ironically, making her slide it through her teeth like she might be able to bite it into submission. The tip of a fang catches against her tongue, drawing a drop of blood that mixes with the liquor to give it a pleasant coppery taste. It does more to calm her than the alcohol and she lets out a defeated sigh. "I know. Ironic."

Luckily, the topic of scales and items have nothing to do with her uncooperative anatomy. His clear passion for his sisters is surprising. Not one for gooey sentimental family nonsense, Thal doesn't know how to navigate the conversation. It feels almost friendly, and she's still not used to that, so she just lets out a melodic hum as another lightning strikes. "Like what?" And because she's feeling generous (and not because she feels somewhat guilty for her earlier outburst), Thal offers him the whiskey bottle again.

Vesper's cool gaze flickers as Thalassa struggles with her tongue, the cursed lisp twisting her words into an awkward mockery of "tongue twithters." His dark brows raise imperceptibly—a silent reaction born from both amusement and a fierce, protective spark that he keeps tightly guarded. Though his telepathy silently picks up the raw anger and the vivid images of flames that Thalassa wishes she could unleash, he offers no comment on it. Instead, he inclines his head slightly, his tone measured and low as he replies, "You want any help practicin'? My tongue can be pretty quick when it needs to". His words carry a slightly suggestive implication, but only because the fruit had been so low-hanging he was helpless to resist the reach.

Without lingering, Vesper takes the whiskey bottle back from her, his gloved fingers closing around it with practiced ease. As he sets it in his lap, his thoughts drift briefly to Caly. Nova may light up a room like a blazing midday sun, but Caly—ever the embodiment of subtle grace—deserves something different. In a tone that’s almost a quiet aside to himself, he muses, "Maybe I'll get her a bracelet that doubles as some sort of way to bind folks—to keep the overly handsy types at a safe distance if y'know what I mean."

I'm pedal to the metal make no mistake, this is my pity party, pity party
& I'm living out of time, eternal heatstroke

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Thalassa

In the back of my mind, I'm still overseas

Her eyebrow raises in subtle surprise at his offer and the accompanying implication. The blue of her eyes takes him in again, lingering on the way the words leave his lips. Maybe if she can get her own tongue to behave, she might like to find out what he claims his can do. After all, he may be lankier than the guys she usually goes for, but if his confidence is any indication... she could make an exception. For now, she has difficulty hiding the smirk that threatens to escape, convinced it must be the alcohol and flames that briefly heat her blood. Thal shrugs her shoulders as she schools her expression. "I don'th know. I'm a pretthy tough cathe." Her eyes hold a challenge, fire reflecting in their stubborn gaze. Whether it's her lisp or other activities, he was going to have his work cut out for him. 

The topic of getting his sister a gift should be safe territory, but her mind still trails in the gutter, and his mention of binding elicits all sorts of other uses for the restraints that she doesn't think a brother would appreciate (not that she knows he can see the explicit images of handcuffs, chains, trailing fingers, licking flames, and growing tension). Instead, she just bites her lip as if in innocent thought, not realizing that the anger is slowly slipping into the darkness. "Bondage might not be the best idea..." Clearing her throat, Thal waves a flippant hand at the mention of 'handsy types.' "There are plenty of thothe in the world. Jutht teach her to fight." Because items are helpful, but no one can deny that a girl should know how to defend herself.

Vesper can practically feel the heat in Thalassa’s mind shifting from lethal flames to a far more carnal kind of blaze. The realization sparks a faint, smug curve to his lips, though outwardly he remains as composed and cool as ever. Despite how dynamic the churning waters of Thal's mind are, the demigod finds himself keen to try and ride them out. Whatever wicked amusements he entertains, he keeps them close, his telepathy quietly charting each change in her thoughts. "Unless you got somewhere else to be, don't see what you've got to lose in tryin'."

Drumming his fingers lightly on the bottle of whiskey, he lifts it for another sip before offering it back to her. Then, arching a brow, he murmurs in a low voice: "—you went from binding to bondage pretty damn quick." Smirking to himself, Vesper turns, his gaze flicking toward the skyline as he wonders what it was his siblings might be up to, before glancing back to Thalassa.

"Teaching Caly to fight’s a solid idea, but she's more the clever type than a brawler. She’d rather find a way to get you to tie yourself up in knots and leave you stranded than throw a punch."

I'm pedal to the metal make no mistake, this is my pity party, pity party
& I'm living out of time, eternal heatstroke

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Thalassa

In the back of my mind, I'm still overseas

Other than lost pride, she can't find a reason to argue with Vesper's logic. Thal is content to follow his lead, although she remains somewhat distracted by the heat that crawls through her veins. This time, her threat is slightly less sharp, edged with a serious yet mischievous fanged grin. "Fine, but you laugh, you get burned." Her magic flickers in emphasis, twining through her fingers in an elegant dance.

Lifting her chin to the cold Deepfrost air, she recalls the words required of her curse. "I have to thay: 'Lestttther leather... never weathered... wetter weather better.'" Each word holds a pause between it as she concentrates on what comes next, only the first word really giving her trouble with the S's. It makes her teeth grind silently with the effort as she avoids his gaze for a moment, the familiar anger flaring brightly in her mind. Maybe she just needs more alcohol to loosen her tongue.

Accepting the bottle again, she dangles it from her fingers like one of her blades. Her head tilts in a way that has another flash of lightning catching the sharp points of her dark blue-black horns, a devilish smile playing on her lips as she lifts the bottle to them. "Don't be stho sthurpristhed. Mostht girlsth aren't asth innothent asth they look, including your sthisthter." The last word stumbles through her teeth, but she thinks he gets the point, especially as her eyes take on a fiery glow. She may not have met his sister, but any young woman knows that her thoughts linger on the scandalous more frequent than men realize. They're just better at disguising the filthy thoughts. Vesper should know that better than anyone.

Finally taking a large gulp of the whiskey, Thal lets out a hum that rings melodiously into the starry night sky. "Hmm... Sthoundsth like an interesthting character. An incapathitating item might work to weaken them, like a poisthon?" It'd certainly make them more susceptible to whatever the young woman might want out of the person, making them defenseless to her charms and nearly harmless to her physically.

Vesper lifts a hand in mock surrender, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Alright, alright—I won’t laugh," he promises, voice low with amusement. But as Thalassa begins to wrap her tongue around the twisted syllables, he bites the inside of his cheek, trying to stifle the grin threatening to surface. Once she’s done, he clears his throat, then murmurs the phrase back with surprising ease, each consonant rolling off his tongue in a smooth, effortless purr.

"It’s all about rhythm," he explains, letting his gaze linger on her for just a second longer than necessary. "If you think of it as separate sounds, you’ll trip over yourself. Kinda like… other things—it’s easier if you lean into the flow instead of breakin’ it all down into parts." The implications of what other sorts of things might be better thought of as needing to have a flow rather than individual movements was bright in his eyes, though it was entirely up to Thal whether she interpreted it as being about fucking, fighting, or something else entirely.

At her remark about his sister's innocence, he snorts softly. "Well that's certainly true." He says with a half-shrug; being a telepath Vesper was aware far more than any brother should be about the sorts of wiles his sister had at her disposal. "Though, if she ever decides a chemical advantage’d help, I’ll let her know there’s an expert I can point her to." Something tells him that the pair would get along.

I'm pedal to the metal make no mistake, this is my pity party, pity party
& I'm living out of time, eternal heatstroke

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Thalassa

In the back of my mind, I'm still overseas

The hidden grin makes her fire tease towards him threateningly, more out of jealousy than anger. Similar to Asta, Vesper seems to have no difficulties with the tongue twister, his drawling tone gliding over the syllables without an ounce of effort. She can't quite tell if he's just trying to show off or prove his earlier claim. 

His words suggest the second, making her eyebrow raise in a way that accuses him as such. Although her mind does brush against sex again, Thal also thinks of music. The two melt together into a seductive dance, melodies pulsing through rhythmic bodies that synchronize beautifully in her mind. Crashing waves and flickering fires harmonize to the soft groans of sex. It certainly helps her understand the concept better, even if it's quite distracting. 

This time, when she says the words, a hum underlines them like the tune to a song, punctuating each word. "Lessther leather never weathered wetter weather better." The first word still softens at the S's, but the rest flows effortlessly, like a sweet lullaby. She doesn't stop, repeating it as her gaze lingers on Vesper's own blue eyes, the phrase getting stronger until it practically sings without a single hint of a lisp. And just as suddenly as it had come, the curse departed, leaving her once more in control of her tongue, and quite eager to show it off. Running the agile muscle over her fangs like a cat preparing for a mouse, Thal grins. "Hmm. Maybe you should teach me a little more about rhythm." Not one for beating around the bush, her suggestion is about as subtle as she gets, leaning towards him with that mischievous glint in her eyes. 

'Expert' was a strong word, but Thal doesn't correct him, just granting a nod of her head as she flashes a fang, too distracted to really care. If he wants to send his sister to learn from her, she won't stop him, but she also won't be responsible for any undesirable opinions or habits she develops. Pirates aren't the best role models. But they're really good at other things.

Vesper’s lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile as Thalassa’s words flow like a well-rehearsed melody. The storm overhead punctuates the moment: a fork of lightning flares, illuminating the sharp angles of her face and the blue of her eyes, making their shared banter feel all the more charged. He can sense the trace images in her mind—the swirl of bodies, the pulse of music, the dance between fighting and fucking—and he keeps his composure even as his heart gives a quick, traitorous thrum of excitement.

"Looks like you're a fast learner. Not that I'm surprised," he drawls, letting his own gaze linger a beat longer than necessary as he roams from her eyes to her lips. "Maybe I could." 

Another flash of lightning arcs across the sky, briefly washing them in bright silver. Vesper doesn’t bother hiding the approving look he gives Thal or her newly obedient tongue before he shifts with a languid grace that belies the storm churning behind his measured gaze. In one smooth motion, he rises from the step below Thalassa, angling himself so that he ends up at her side. He leans in just enough to close the distance, his face mere inches from hers. For an instant, a nearby flash of lightning highlights the stark difference between the cool indifference in his posture and the heat crackling through his telepathy. His eyes, half-lidded, track the flicker of her thoughts—wanting to feel the tension winding tighter with every beat of thunder. Yet he pauses on the precipice, savoring the tension without giving into it just yet. "The moment's between the beats are just as important when it comes to rhythm," he whispers, blue eyes languidly gliding over her lips before slowly rising to her face. "Or so I've found."

I'm pedal to the metal make no mistake, this is my pity party, pity party
& I'm living out of time, eternal heatstroke

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!