Thalassa
A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.
The strength of his gaze on her warms every part of her body. Their blues meet in an unspoken analysis of each other. She maintains a neutral but playful expression while waiting patiently for him to make his move. When he speaks, the resonance of his deep voice melds with the trickling of the water to form a rushing symphony of sound that sings in her soul. Thal hums softly, adding to the harmony. "Fair enough." She isn't about to mention how terrible her luck is. That's why she has come to rely on her skills and wit. Notably when assessing a dangerous situation. Her smile widens as the smell of ocean hits her. There's always been a calling in her towards the water and she finds comfort in the scent. It's a reassuring caress that juxtaposes the tightening hold in her hair. However, she enjoys both sensations equally and continues to hold his hand to her head in case he attempts to release it. "Whatever means necessary, although I especially enjoy when blood is involved." Thal runs her tongue along her fangs and grins. She lets the sharp nails of her hand drag against his, tangling further in her dark curls.
As the water rises, she refuses to acknowledge it, instead focusing on him. Her eyes are filled with determination as she becomes more impatient with his lack of action. But she will not move. She will not show her anticipation. Instead, she chooses to keep her body relaxed. In a bored tone, Thal gives a fake yawn. "Is pressing your luck always so slow?" She knows that she may be toeing the line, but the edge is always so seductive.
