- You want me to be yours, -
Nodding her head at the information, she's grateful to know that there won't be any likelihood of running into other people, that likelihood turning to none as he guides them seamlessly through a hallway to the locked door of his old room. The interior isn't what most people might have expected from the Butcher, but Thal smiles as she sees signs of Asta in the meticulously organized crowding of clothes and trinkets. She especially likes the bones laid across the back table, even as she drifts to run a finger along the rack of waistcoats, suits, and other tailored pieces. "Yeah. 'Just in case' places stop selling your size." It's mumbled under her breath, but she flashes Asta a teasing smirk.
She takes the towels from his hands, giving a shrug of her shoulders in permission. "Okay. I'll just have to trust your fashion sense again." And since this might be one of his few opportunities to dress her without much resistance (or choice) on her part, she's curious to see what he might bring back, or what options he might find amongst the staff. Just short of an obnoxiously short monstrosity of a colored strip of fabric, she's willing to wear whatever's offered.
Leaving Asta to his task, Thal turns to the bathroom and makes quick work of entering the shower. The temperature is set to liquid lava, the bathroom steaming pleasantly with the heat as she lets the water run through her hair like soothing fingers that pull comfortably at the curling waves. She closes her eyes and lets it wash over her, releasing more of the tension with each breath. For a few minutes, she just soaks in the warmth, letting it rinse away the worries that had refused to stay behind in the Climb. Just to be sure it's gone, she snags at the vanilla soap she finds, running it over her body then through her hair to cleanse it of the ashen scent and bitter betrayal.
The woman who steps from the shower looks much closer to the swaggering captain, wet hair falling over proud shoulders, a confidence returning to her strut as she dries off. Peeking into the room again, she sees that Asta has yet to arrive with her new clothes and decides that she'd rather not wait around in a towel (it's too inconvenient to hold up). Without a second thought, Thal finds a shirt amongst the racks that doesn't look too expensive, the dark linen simple and casual compared to the others.
When Asta returns, he'll find her wearing the overly large shirt that sits lopsided on her frame as she takes a closer look at the assortment of bones. They look like they're meant for something, and as she hears him enter, she doesn't glance up. "What are these for?"
She takes the towels from his hands, giving a shrug of her shoulders in permission. "Okay. I'll just have to trust your fashion sense again." And since this might be one of his few opportunities to dress her without much resistance (or choice) on her part, she's curious to see what he might bring back, or what options he might find amongst the staff. Just short of an obnoxiously short monstrosity of a colored strip of fabric, she's willing to wear whatever's offered.
Leaving Asta to his task, Thal turns to the bathroom and makes quick work of entering the shower. The temperature is set to liquid lava, the bathroom steaming pleasantly with the heat as she lets the water run through her hair like soothing fingers that pull comfortably at the curling waves. She closes her eyes and lets it wash over her, releasing more of the tension with each breath. For a few minutes, she just soaks in the warmth, letting it rinse away the worries that had refused to stay behind in the Climb. Just to be sure it's gone, she snags at the vanilla soap she finds, running it over her body then through her hair to cleanse it of the ashen scent and bitter betrayal.
The woman who steps from the shower looks much closer to the swaggering captain, wet hair falling over proud shoulders, a confidence returning to her strut as she dries off. Peeking into the room again, she sees that Asta has yet to arrive with her new clothes and decides that she'd rather not wait around in a towel (it's too inconvenient to hold up). Without a second thought, Thal finds a shirt amongst the racks that doesn't look too expensive, the dark linen simple and casual compared to the others.
When Asta returns, he'll find her wearing the overly large shirt that sits lopsided on her frame as she takes a closer look at the assortment of bones. They look like they're meant for something, and as she hears him enter, she doesn't glance up. "What are these for?"
Thalassa
- well then you gotta be mine. -
