Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.
Unwilling to think on what exactly she plans to do when she sees Maea again, Thal gives a resigned nod of her head, one that's too stiff to be 'accepting' of the decision. It's the other piece of information that makes her scoff, her head shaking again with disbelief. "That explains her moving." So, 'differing opinions' hadn't been the only reason. Another intentional exclusion of information that grates against her trust.
She'd been such a fool.
It adds a personal element to her rage, something almost pained in the feeling, like it might hurt if she thinks too long on it, but she's given Maea too much control over her heart one too many times, and she sinks into the fury like a comforting embrace, letting it wrap around her heart and take root as she steps into the forest.
The towering trees and flashes of lightning nearly compare to the insurmountable cresting of her anger, the too-big feeling begging to crack through her and shatter into the night sky in a flash of light. However, she tightens her hold on it, her eyes scanning for any unfortunate creatures who haven't yet sensed the pair of walking chaos that stalk in their midst. Asta may spot it first, but Thal doesn't miss it either, melting into the shadow of the larger Ancient's form, her eyes glowing in the darkness as she watches his approach.
'Patience' isn't really something Thal is known for, and her tail flicks in a sharp dance behind her while she crouches in wait, following closely. Every muscle of her body is poised for a kill, eager to spill blood, to taste it on her tongue. Even the beat of her heart slows, like it might stretch the moment, the tantalizing anticipation. It makes her vision narrow dangerously onto the image of Asta before her, on the creature he's toying with.
When the allogator finally thinks it has an easy meal in the Butcher and strikes out, Thal springs forward. She spins down its length, her dagger digging into its exposed side in a pleasant tug of hide and muscle, the warmth of blood coating her hand. It's not deep enough to kill, just enough to piss the creature off; but it doesn't have time to turn to her before she's at its tail, stabbing a dagger through the appendage and into the soft soil of the forest. Thal knows it won't hold for long, but that's not the point, and she lets out a laugh of delight for the suffering, the helplessness it will feel in the next few moments.
She'd been such a fool.
It adds a personal element to her rage, something almost pained in the feeling, like it might hurt if she thinks too long on it, but she's given Maea too much control over her heart one too many times, and she sinks into the fury like a comforting embrace, letting it wrap around her heart and take root as she steps into the forest.
The towering trees and flashes of lightning nearly compare to the insurmountable cresting of her anger, the too-big feeling begging to crack through her and shatter into the night sky in a flash of light. However, she tightens her hold on it, her eyes scanning for any unfortunate creatures who haven't yet sensed the pair of walking chaos that stalk in their midst. Asta may spot it first, but Thal doesn't miss it either, melting into the shadow of the larger Ancient's form, her eyes glowing in the darkness as she watches his approach.
'Patience' isn't really something Thal is known for, and her tail flicks in a sharp dance behind her while she crouches in wait, following closely. Every muscle of her body is poised for a kill, eager to spill blood, to taste it on her tongue. Even the beat of her heart slows, like it might stretch the moment, the tantalizing anticipation. It makes her vision narrow dangerously onto the image of Asta before her, on the creature he's toying with.
When the allogator finally thinks it has an easy meal in the Butcher and strikes out, Thal springs forward. She spins down its length, her dagger digging into its exposed side in a pleasant tug of hide and muscle, the warmth of blood coating her hand. It's not deep enough to kill, just enough to piss the creature off; but it doesn't have time to turn to her before she's at its tail, stabbing a dagger through the appendage and into the soft soil of the forest. Thal knows it won't hold for long, but that's not the point, and she lets out a laugh of delight for the suffering, the helplessness it will feel in the next few moments.
Thalassa
