Thalassa
Hands getting cold
Thal wouldn't mind spending some time with people, although she wasn't excited at the idea of sleeping someplace other than her ship or her own home. It wasn't something she'd made a habit of doing, mostly for security reasons, but there was also something intimate about staying with someone else when she was at her most vulnerable, and that didn't exactly appeal to her. However, Asta had quickly become an exception to most of her tendencies, and if he was offering a private room where she wouldn't be disturbed...
Her head tilted, seriously considering the offer as she let out a low hum. "Hmm. We'll see how I feel after a shower and some socializing." If it energized her, she just might head home on the gust of her second wind; otherwise, she might find herself face first in a pillow after a single conversation.
It didn't surprise her that Asta wouldn't have something her size. She's fairly certain she could fit her entire body in a single pantleg, and his shirts would probably reach her ankles. Smiling at the thought, Thal nods her head at the offer. "I'm sure we can find something." Although she gets the feeling that most of the workers' clothes in the Dusklight would consist of very little fabric.
Either way, she gratefully takes his hand, letting him help her to her feet. She waits a moment for him to fix the muzzle on his face, even adjusting the strap when it didn't tighten all the way (although he'd had to lean forward quite a bit). Once they're ready, Thal follows the path Asta had taken to find her, leaving her worries firmly on the rock behind her.
[FIN]
Her head tilted, seriously considering the offer as she let out a low hum. "Hmm. We'll see how I feel after a shower and some socializing." If it energized her, she just might head home on the gust of her second wind; otherwise, she might find herself face first in a pillow after a single conversation.
It didn't surprise her that Asta wouldn't have something her size. She's fairly certain she could fit her entire body in a single pantleg, and his shirts would probably reach her ankles. Smiling at the thought, Thal nods her head at the offer. "I'm sure we can find something." Although she gets the feeling that most of the workers' clothes in the Dusklight would consist of very little fabric.
Either way, she gratefully takes his hand, letting him help her to her feet. She waits a moment for him to fix the muzzle on his face, even adjusting the strap when it didn't tighten all the way (although he'd had to lean forward quite a bit). Once they're ready, Thal follows the path Asta had taken to find her, leaving her worries firmly on the rock behind her.
[FIN]
Losing feeling is getting old
Was I made from a broken mold?
Was I made from a broken mold?
