Thalassa
Burning cities and napalm skies
'Lassie.'
The name made her flinch. It was hers, in a way, but... not. An uncomfortable necklace that sparkled prettily but sat too tight against her throat. A beautifully unintentional noose.
Her mouth opened to respond to the unwarranted accusations but snapped closed at the hand that reached forward. As much as she suspected some connection between them, she didn't welcome any physical contact from the stranger. Thal didn't know this woman, and she wouldn't pretend that she did just to spare her feelings. She kept a cautious distance from the waterline, eyes taking in each flicker of emotion that flashed by.
The question felt rhetorical, more for the mermaid's sake than her own, yet she found herself returning to the void, expecting a name to magically appear after years of effort. When nothing revealed itself, Thal wanted to lash out, disappointed in the weak hope that had blossomed momentarily. Crossing her arms, she shook her head, annoyed and suspicious. ”No... Should I?” Her defensiveness rose as a familiar prideful shield, not wanting to admit the gap in her memories, even if this woman had already been homing in on that very fact. She'd spent so long searching for answers in herself, it felt like admitting failure by acknowledging that the discovery was beyond her abilities.
Thal reeled back at the softly spoken words, an abundance of knowledge and implications behind their meaning. She nearly snarled, settling for a sharp snap of her jaw. ”What does that mean?” It was accusatory, hiding the painful anticipation building in her chest. It'd taken her so long to come to terms with her own identity as an Ancient. To have it so starkly highlighted, by someone who possibly knew her before, brought back the old aches and insecurities. It made her want to hide the characteristic horns and tail. Shame bubbled in her chest, souring like curdled milk.
The name made her flinch. It was hers, in a way, but... not. An uncomfortable necklace that sparkled prettily but sat too tight against her throat. A beautifully unintentional noose.
Her mouth opened to respond to the unwarranted accusations but snapped closed at the hand that reached forward. As much as she suspected some connection between them, she didn't welcome any physical contact from the stranger. Thal didn't know this woman, and she wouldn't pretend that she did just to spare her feelings. She kept a cautious distance from the waterline, eyes taking in each flicker of emotion that flashed by.
The question felt rhetorical, more for the mermaid's sake than her own, yet she found herself returning to the void, expecting a name to magically appear after years of effort. When nothing revealed itself, Thal wanted to lash out, disappointed in the weak hope that had blossomed momentarily. Crossing her arms, she shook her head, annoyed and suspicious. ”No... Should I?” Her defensiveness rose as a familiar prideful shield, not wanting to admit the gap in her memories, even if this woman had already been homing in on that very fact. She'd spent so long searching for answers in herself, it felt like admitting failure by acknowledging that the discovery was beyond her abilities.
Thal reeled back at the softly spoken words, an abundance of knowledge and implications behind their meaning. She nearly snarled, settling for a sharp snap of her jaw. ”What does that mean?” It was accusatory, hiding the painful anticipation building in her chest. It'd taken her so long to come to terms with her own identity as an Ancient. To have it so starkly highlighted, by someone who possibly knew her before, brought back the old aches and insecurities. It made her want to hide the characteristic horns and tail. Shame bubbled in her chest, souring like curdled milk.
Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes
