Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.
Thal downs her glass the moment it's full, quieting as she listens to every damning word that Asta says. How she suggests they exile people for crimes, sending him into a manic episode. Just the thought makes her blood boil, wanting to protect him against the trauma Maea always has a knack of digging into. Her voice is deathly soft, her fangs bared in disgust. "And she calls you cruel?" Everything about her has stilled, the anger simmering beneath the surface, growing hotter with each revelation, especially as he talks about running, about being unable to take at least that small reprieve from her verbal assault.
She recalls her recent spar with Hadama and her previous spat with Danta over the ramphire, how she'd reacted like a caged animal when beaten down, how she'd been so blinded by fury that she ignored all reasoning. It's why she can't blame Asta for attacking - why she can't believe Maea would be the one to attack someone in that position. And then to go so far as to beat him while claiming to care? Thal hears the glass in her hand crack, the cheap cup near shattering as she pries it from her grasp to set it on the table. She can't bring herself to drink anymore as the rage and disgust bring bile to her throat.
Her hands press flat on the table, shoving her chair back as she stands, tail lashing like a whip behind her with each piece of information. To hear that Maea wanted him to kill her, that she'd pushed him to the point of running. Grabbing one of her daggers from the tabletop, she slams it into the wood, desperately wishing it could scream or bleed. She wants to tear something apart, possibly even Maea. A low growl rips through her chest, eyes blazing with violence as the fireplace flares. "She calls you a monster, 'apologizes,' then asks you to kill her if she starts becoming like you?!" Thal rips the dagger from the table, throwing it so hard that it imbeds halfway to the hilt on the thick wood by her door. "She would be lucky to be half the person you are!" Maybe it's because she's come to care so much about Asta, or maybe it's because she's struggled with the thoughts herself, or maybe because she thought she knew Maea, but it's hard not to hit something.
Stalking across the room, Thal pulls her dagger from the wall with a forceful tug, wood cracking beneath, not that she cares. "She's a hypocrite who hates herself so much that she can't bear to see others accepting themselves!" She twirls the blade in a deadly dance over her fingers, pointing between the two of them. "There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with me. She is the one who can't embrace being an Ancient. I doubt she ever will." Thal grinds her teeth as she moves to pacing in front of the table, wanting very much to taste blood, to hear bones snap. "She talks about 'understanding' Dygra and wanting to know her 'purpose' like she's been forced into some cult that she has to suffer being a part of." Spinning to face the door, she throws the dagger again, her body trembling with anger as it thuds into the wall. "It's insulting!" The heat of her fury is so strong that a tendril of smoke filters out from her bared fangs, flames licking at her fingertips. At the same moment, a crack of lightning sounds outside, like a sign of the gods agreeing with her - Dygra agreeing with her.
She recalls her recent spar with Hadama and her previous spat with Danta over the ramphire, how she'd reacted like a caged animal when beaten down, how she'd been so blinded by fury that she ignored all reasoning. It's why she can't blame Asta for attacking - why she can't believe Maea would be the one to attack someone in that position. And then to go so far as to beat him while claiming to care? Thal hears the glass in her hand crack, the cheap cup near shattering as she pries it from her grasp to set it on the table. She can't bring herself to drink anymore as the rage and disgust bring bile to her throat.
Her hands press flat on the table, shoving her chair back as she stands, tail lashing like a whip behind her with each piece of information. To hear that Maea wanted him to kill her, that she'd pushed him to the point of running. Grabbing one of her daggers from the tabletop, she slams it into the wood, desperately wishing it could scream or bleed. She wants to tear something apart, possibly even Maea. A low growl rips through her chest, eyes blazing with violence as the fireplace flares. "She calls you a monster, 'apologizes,' then asks you to kill her if she starts becoming like you?!" Thal rips the dagger from the table, throwing it so hard that it imbeds halfway to the hilt on the thick wood by her door. "She would be lucky to be half the person you are!" Maybe it's because she's come to care so much about Asta, or maybe it's because she's struggled with the thoughts herself, or maybe because she thought she knew Maea, but it's hard not to hit something.
Stalking across the room, Thal pulls her dagger from the wall with a forceful tug, wood cracking beneath, not that she cares. "She's a hypocrite who hates herself so much that she can't bear to see others accepting themselves!" She twirls the blade in a deadly dance over her fingers, pointing between the two of them. "There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with me. She is the one who can't embrace being an Ancient. I doubt she ever will." Thal grinds her teeth as she moves to pacing in front of the table, wanting very much to taste blood, to hear bones snap. "She talks about 'understanding' Dygra and wanting to know her 'purpose' like she's been forced into some cult that she has to suffer being a part of." Spinning to face the door, she throws the dagger again, her body trembling with anger as it thuds into the wall. "It's insulting!" The heat of her fury is so strong that a tendril of smoke filters out from her bared fangs, flames licking at her fingertips. At the same moment, a crack of lightning sounds outside, like a sign of the gods agreeing with her - Dygra agreeing with her.
Thalassa
