Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.
She can feel Asta's presence through the fury, knows that she's probably being 'too quick to anger,' but she doesn't cool, her breaths seething and hot in the small space. Thal's always felt things too strongly, whether it be anger, or sadness, or loyalty, or hurt - and probably love one day, she feels it with every fiber of her being like it's humming to escape her too-small frame. Even now, her skin threatens to catch fire, to blaze through like a wildfire at the suffering Asta has had to endure, at the hands and words of someone she might have labeled a 'friend.'
It's why she can't blame him for wanting to kill her, for being unable to look past her transgressions, why she's not sure she can look past them. Ripping the blade from the wall again, Thal twists it through her fingers, a low, humorless laugh punctuating the sharp flash of her fangs. "It sounds like she wants to die anyways. You might be putting her out of her misery, so she doesn't have to be an Ancient anymore." Thal spits the word like a curse, flipping the dagger quickly in the air before burying it in the wall again. She can't decide whether that would be too merciful a death, whether Maea should be forced to suffer the knowledge of her existence.
The warm hand on her shoulder stills her stalking enough for a hint of clarity to peek through the red of her vision. The idea strikes that she hasn't satiated her bloodlust since their hunt all those weeks ago, having been distracted by other endeavors, and interrupted at her last attempt with Maea - not that she needs an excuse to tear into something right now. Her violently malicious grin says enough as she looks up at the Butcher. "That sounds like a fantastic idea." In a matter of seconds, she is armed to the teeth, her collection of daggers glinting across her body like scales of deadly armor waiting to be coated in blood. She doesn't reach for her cloak as she steps outside, wanting to feel the rain sizzle across her skin, to cool her rage into something she can hone, something predatory. She also doesn't shift, wanting desperately to feel every drop of blood against her skin, to rip through it with daggers, fangs, and nails, to feel the heartbeat stop against her fingertips.
Once Asta appears beside her, Thal moves towards the woods, all shadows and crackling fury, a wraith on the hunt, wishing for a fight.
It's why she can't blame him for wanting to kill her, for being unable to look past her transgressions, why she's not sure she can look past them. Ripping the blade from the wall again, Thal twists it through her fingers, a low, humorless laugh punctuating the sharp flash of her fangs. "It sounds like she wants to die anyways. You might be putting her out of her misery, so she doesn't have to be an Ancient anymore." Thal spits the word like a curse, flipping the dagger quickly in the air before burying it in the wall again. She can't decide whether that would be too merciful a death, whether Maea should be forced to suffer the knowledge of her existence.
The warm hand on her shoulder stills her stalking enough for a hint of clarity to peek through the red of her vision. The idea strikes that she hasn't satiated her bloodlust since their hunt all those weeks ago, having been distracted by other endeavors, and interrupted at her last attempt with Maea - not that she needs an excuse to tear into something right now. Her violently malicious grin says enough as she looks up at the Butcher. "That sounds like a fantastic idea." In a matter of seconds, she is armed to the teeth, her collection of daggers glinting across her body like scales of deadly armor waiting to be coated in blood. She doesn't reach for her cloak as she steps outside, wanting to feel the rain sizzle across her skin, to cool her rage into something she can hone, something predatory. She also doesn't shift, wanting desperately to feel every drop of blood against her skin, to rip through it with daggers, fangs, and nails, to feel the heartbeat stop against her fingertips.
Once Asta appears beside her, Thal moves towards the woods, all shadows and crackling fury, a wraith on the hunt, wishing for a fight.
Thalassa
