enemies to lovers, but you'll never own my heart
Little did Thalassa know that the handsome brute she’s been fooling around with is the very golden girl’s brother. But as it stands, Calypso snorts and sips lightly from her mojito, enjoying the refreshing taste of mint amongst the very light air of sweet simple syrup and the clean liquor that hardly has a taste of its own. “Ah, so they’re sore ‘bout it.” She comments idly, shifting to prop her head up on a fist, glancing sidelong toward Thalassa as the young attuned slides her glass forward – already feeling the liquor but feeling like a little bit more couldn’t hurt.
“How kind of ya.” Caly teases, humming a bright laugh to see the confidence and authority in her blue gaze. It doesn’t work on her, and she boldly looks back with a grin of confidence of her own – of Safrin’s own making and her own personal vitality of embodying the sun. “What’re the stakes?” She asks curiously, glancing back toward the table thoughtfully.
“How kind of ya.” Caly teases, humming a bright laugh to see the confidence and authority in her blue gaze. It doesn’t work on her, and she boldly looks back with a grin of confidence of her own – of Safrin’s own making and her own personal vitality of embodying the sun. “What’re the stakes?” She asks curiously, glancing back toward the table thoughtfully.
Calypso
one-sided, it's pathetic how you think you're being smart
