Thalassa
Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
And there are many paths to tread
The contact of her blade was easier than the first time, sliding through thick plumage to slice the bare skin beneath. Thal was ecstatic by her successful attack, grinning in satisfaction as she spun into a bracing lunge. A scathing comment lept to the tip of her tongue, but froze at Hadama’s firm command. She half expected to hear an admission of defeat and a smile prepared to emerge in victory. Until she noticed the red dripping from her dagger.
Her blood ran cold at the sight.
Killing and maiming were not things that she feared. In fact, her incomparable joy at bloodshed was the only thing that frightened her. The way that a bar brawl or ship battle had her anticipating the taste of copper on her lips. The way the crunch of bones made her body shiver in delight. The way her mind had only been focused on striking - hard and fast. That singular mind and utter infatuation was a nightmare that she tried to hide. And now it was on full display. Possibly resulting in an innocent person’s pain.
Trying not to appear too concerned for Hadama and his injury, Thal kept her face slack and void of emotion. She remained still in her lunged position, watching closely to assess his wound. It oozed from beneath his armor in a steady flow that increased as he breathed in slowly. But when his steady mist rose around them, the skin stitched together as if by an invisible seamstress. She watched closely as it returned to an unblemished patch of smooth skin. Simultaneously, her own aches vanished, causing her to stand in surprise.
Thal looked at the king with narrowed assessing eyes. His cut may have been temporary, but it didn’t change the fact that it had been inflicted during a friendly spar. As he retracted the armor, she turned to her only coping mechanism - sarcasm. With a scoff, she said, ”Obviously. Next time don’t ask me to attack something that can’t take more than a single hit.” She turned her head away in feigned annoyance, hiding the relief at his healing.
Her blood ran cold at the sight.
Killing and maiming were not things that she feared. In fact, her incomparable joy at bloodshed was the only thing that frightened her. The way that a bar brawl or ship battle had her anticipating the taste of copper on her lips. The way the crunch of bones made her body shiver in delight. The way her mind had only been focused on striking - hard and fast. That singular mind and utter infatuation was a nightmare that she tried to hide. And now it was on full display. Possibly resulting in an innocent person’s pain.
Trying not to appear too concerned for Hadama and his injury, Thal kept her face slack and void of emotion. She remained still in her lunged position, watching closely to assess his wound. It oozed from beneath his armor in a steady flow that increased as he breathed in slowly. But when his steady mist rose around them, the skin stitched together as if by an invisible seamstress. She watched closely as it returned to an unblemished patch of smooth skin. Simultaneously, her own aches vanished, causing her to stand in surprise.
Thal looked at the king with narrowed assessing eyes. His cut may have been temporary, but it didn’t change the fact that it had been inflicted during a friendly spar. As he retracted the armor, she turned to her only coping mechanism - sarcasm. With a scoff, she said, ”Obviously. Next time don’t ask me to attack something that can’t take more than a single hit.” She turned her head away in feigned annoyance, hiding the relief at his healing.
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Until the stars are all alight.
