Thalassa
In the back of my mind, I'm still overseas
The place Asta had recommended turned out really cozy. Tucked into the forest's shadow at the edge of Levinsward, it was protected from the brunt of snow and rain. Lightning was close enough to feel the slight charge of the air, but far enough to safely admiring in the open. She was also the perfect distance from Jack Tarr, providing easy access for her crew if they were willing to go through the effort of traversing the glade. With any luck, most would decide it wasn't, scaring away any drunk misconceptions that she'd let them sleep on her couch - which they'd moved into the space just minutes ago.
After hours of moving furniture into the upper-floor studio, the crew had decided it was time to christen her house with a good, old fashioned pirate drinking contest. Luckily, the owner who lived beneath was frequently traveling, including today, leaving them to be as loud and obnoxious as they wanted.
Thal might have joined them, but the thick discoordination of her tongue had her seeking solitude. She sat upon the stairs to her new apartment, the cold air making her cringe. A small lamp served as a source for her flames, pulling them through her fingers to stay warm. It heated the glass of whiskey in her hand, but she didn't mind; there was a whole bottle next to her.
Still well within her faculties, she tried to manipulate her tongue to obey. "Leth - leth - lether." Growling darkly, she took a gulp of alcohol, secretly hoping it might be a magical cure. She'd managed to keep her new difficulties from the crew's notice, avoiding the elusive 's' sound, choosing her words carefully, or staying silent. They hadn't noticed yet, but she hoped to have it fixed before they did. The problem was that she needed practice. And she hated it.
Filled with deep frustration, she poured herself another glass. Staring into the amber liquid like it was the source of all her problems, she started slowly, "Leeeettth -" She clamped down again, the fire along her fingertips flaring with the emotion. She sounded like an idiot blowing a raspberry. Shaking her head, she verbally cursed the spirit who'd cursed her, using every colorful word she knew that didn't involve an 's' (which was a lot).
After hours of moving furniture into the upper-floor studio, the crew had decided it was time to christen her house with a good, old fashioned pirate drinking contest. Luckily, the owner who lived beneath was frequently traveling, including today, leaving them to be as loud and obnoxious as they wanted.
Thal might have joined them, but the thick discoordination of her tongue had her seeking solitude. She sat upon the stairs to her new apartment, the cold air making her cringe. A small lamp served as a source for her flames, pulling them through her fingers to stay warm. It heated the glass of whiskey in her hand, but she didn't mind; there was a whole bottle next to her.
Still well within her faculties, she tried to manipulate her tongue to obey. "Leth - leth - lether." Growling darkly, she took a gulp of alcohol, secretly hoping it might be a magical cure. She'd managed to keep her new difficulties from the crew's notice, avoiding the elusive 's' sound, choosing her words carefully, or staying silent. They hadn't noticed yet, but she hoped to have it fixed before they did. The problem was that she needed practice. And she hated it.
Filled with deep frustration, she poured herself another glass. Staring into the amber liquid like it was the source of all her problems, she started slowly, "Leeeettth -" She clamped down again, the fire along her fingertips flaring with the emotion. She sounded like an idiot blowing a raspberry. Shaking her head, she verbally cursed the spirit who'd cursed her, using every colorful word she knew that didn't involve an 's' (which was a lot).
