Dance with the waves, move with the sea,
The Ancient's arrival comes just as she downs her second drink, waiting for the bartender to fill it again. She takes in his rumpled appearance with a widening of her eyes. Without his tailored suits and styled hair, she'd have expected him to look weak or soft - but it does the complete opposite. He looks wild and dangerous, less controlled and more unhinged like a rabid dog released from its ornate cage. The bruises and scars peeking through his haphazard clothes suggest a close familiarity with brutality that would scare most people, and his tone begs for violence in its depth. Even as his eyes hold the same softness she'd come to recognize from him, they're dark and threatening. Thal is surprised he agreed to see her in such a state, and a kinder person would have left him to recover from whatever this is, but she's just been cursed and isn't feeling very kind.
His words reassure her somewhat, and she shares a thin smile as she rises to approach the indicated booth. "Good tho hear." The hard 't' of the word comes out a little soft, and she has to keep from sneering at Asta as if it's his fault. Her jaw clenches so tight it hurts. She has to pry it open with her tongue, hoping it's not too noticeable.
Taking her place on the plush cushions of the booth, she sets her full glass on the table. Thal doesn't skirt the conversation, diving right in as she leans forward. "What happened to you?" Maybe it's the subtle concern that laces her tone, but she's able to control the pronunciation a little better this time, the word only slightly slipping through her teeth like a sailor's lull.
His words reassure her somewhat, and she shares a thin smile as she rises to approach the indicated booth. "Good tho hear." The hard 't' of the word comes out a little soft, and she has to keep from sneering at Asta as if it's his fault. Her jaw clenches so tight it hurts. She has to pry it open with her tongue, hoping it's not too noticeable.
Taking her place on the plush cushions of the booth, she sets her full glass on the table. Thal doesn't skirt the conversation, diving right in as she leans forward. "What happened to you?" Maybe it's the subtle concern that laces her tone, but she's able to control the pronunciation a little better this time, the word only slightly slipping through her teeth like a sailor's lull.
Thalassa
let the rhythm of the water set your soul free.
