Dance with the waves, move with the sea,
Running her eyes along his injuries again, she leans forward with interest. "Hmm. Did you geth whath you wanthed?" In other words, 'Was it worth it?' After all, nobody picks a fight like that without a purpose. The situation would be even more painful if he'd failed in his goal. Similar to how she had.
Thal looks down into her glass again, swirling the liquid as she tilts the glass along the wooden table. A sigh prefaces, "Yeah... Thongue twithterth." The irony is not lost on her, and she has to wonder if her jawline will sharpen with all this teeth grinding. That, or her teeth might fall out, making her an even more formidable pirate.
The prickling of her neck makes her suspicious, adding, "Maybe they followed me. Thomething feelth.... off." Her blue eyes scan the bar again, looking for anything that might be out of the ordinary, yet she sees nothing, again. It just makes her more frustrated, fraying at the short fuse of her anger tonight. "They probably jutht want tho thee me thay, 'If a dog chewth thoes, whothe thoes doeth he choothe?'" She says it pointedly towards the opening of the booth, only loud enough for any 'spirits' that may have decided to buy a front row seat to her suffering. The bitter tone washes down with another gulp of her bourbon.
Thal looks down into her glass again, swirling the liquid as she tilts the glass along the wooden table. A sigh prefaces, "Yeah... Thongue twithterth." The irony is not lost on her, and she has to wonder if her jawline will sharpen with all this teeth grinding. That, or her teeth might fall out, making her an even more formidable pirate.
The prickling of her neck makes her suspicious, adding, "Maybe they followed me. Thomething feelth.... off." Her blue eyes scan the bar again, looking for anything that might be out of the ordinary, yet she sees nothing, again. It just makes her more frustrated, fraying at the short fuse of her anger tonight. "They probably jutht want tho thee me thay, 'If a dog chewth thoes, whothe thoes doeth he choothe?'" She says it pointedly towards the opening of the booth, only loud enough for any 'spirits' that may have decided to buy a front row seat to her suffering. The bitter tone washes down with another gulp of her bourbon.
Thalassa
let the rhythm of the water set your soul free.
