Thal doesn't need to see the scars to believe him, returning his smile with a mix of humor and understanding. She may not have physical scars of her own, but something had obviously occurred before her transition to leave her like this. Her smile turned bitter as she set aside the axe. "I would dare to say that my own transformation did the opposite, locking a part of me away." Maybe that was a blessing in disguise - a gift from the goddess or the natural reaction of her psyche; but it sure didn't feel like it. She barely knows who she is, and it leaves her feeling vulnerable and ill equipped for the world around her.
Lifting a rapier-like sword to her rag, Thal tries to keep her own tone playful, ignoring how she's just exposed her beating heart to the man. Her mouth tilts in a smile, her shoulders shrugging. "It's certainly easier." Easier than opening up to those around her. Easier than letting them in. Easier than losing them. Gods know what happened the last time she did that. As much as she wants to take up residence in a bar and lose ever piece of her humanity, all signs seem to be pushing her to try again. As if the last case was an outlier. As if not everyone will leave her.
The captain tries to shove aside the dark emotions that threaten to overwhelm her again. She'd promised to move past them after the Festival of Lights, but things don't always change that quickly. Sometimes the heart hasn't moved on even if the mind vows to. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean she can afford to stop trying. She has a ship to run, after all.
Swallowing a sip of hot chocolate like a tactile representation of her emotions, Thal focuses on Asta's words. She replaces the newly shined sword as he finishes, humming a crystal tune to herself. "Hmmm... I suppose that makes sense." It isn't her idea of 'chaos,' but she thinks she understands. It's like picking battles, only selecting those that would be worth the effort: a good meal, thrilling revenge, or pure physical satisfaction. That she could relate to. Nodding her head, Thal offers the dagger to a thin Ancient who approaches her table. "So like 'selective' chaos." Although it comes out as a statement, there's still a musical lilt of question in her tone, an offer for correction or clarification.
Lifting a rapier-like sword to her rag, Thal tries to keep her own tone playful, ignoring how she's just exposed her beating heart to the man. Her mouth tilts in a smile, her shoulders shrugging. "It's certainly easier." Easier than opening up to those around her. Easier than letting them in. Easier than losing them. Gods know what happened the last time she did that. As much as she wants to take up residence in a bar and lose ever piece of her humanity, all signs seem to be pushing her to try again. As if the last case was an outlier. As if not everyone will leave her.
The captain tries to shove aside the dark emotions that threaten to overwhelm her again. She'd promised to move past them after the Festival of Lights, but things don't always change that quickly. Sometimes the heart hasn't moved on even if the mind vows to. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean she can afford to stop trying. She has a ship to run, after all.
Swallowing a sip of hot chocolate like a tactile representation of her emotions, Thal focuses on Asta's words. She replaces the newly shined sword as he finishes, humming a crystal tune to herself. "Hmmm... I suppose that makes sense." It isn't her idea of 'chaos,' but she thinks she understands. It's like picking battles, only selecting those that would be worth the effort: a good meal, thrilling revenge, or pure physical satisfaction. That she could relate to. Nodding her head, Thal offers the dagger to a thin Ancient who approaches her table. "So like 'selective' chaos." Although it comes out as a statement, there's still a musical lilt of question in her tone, an offer for correction or clarification.
thalassa
so don't waste the time i don't have
