Thalassa
A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.
Thal tracks the stranger's eyes as they rise back up to meet hers. A light shiver runs down her spine, but she remains rooted to the spot. She would not allow this man to make her waver. Even as the tilt of his head reminds her of a predator assessing his catch. Instead, Thal crosses her arms defiantly and shrugs. "I suppose so." Lifting her eyebrows conspiratorially, she tilts her head in a similar fashion. "I wonder what else we might have in common?"The stranger stands slowly. His muscles seem to strain against his skin as he stretches. A thin layer of sweat reflects the purple light. The chair now looks surprisingly small next to his hulking figure. How had it held him to begin with? At the sound of his groan, Thal makes note of his comfortable and easy confidence. When he finally stills, she lets him see her eyes watching him - not that she dared look anywhere else.
With a dramatic sigh, she feigns exasperation, clutching her chest. "There is so little worth exploring on this demolished wasteland. My soul feels like it is dying of boredom." She pauses for exaggeration before laughing. Thal peaks out at him behind her dark curls and flashes him a fanged grin. "Do you have any cures for my ailment?" Her tone is sarcastic and amused, waiting patiently for his response.
