Thalassa
She hears Vesper's curse, assuming she looks worse than she feels; breathing quick from exertion, eyes glazed with shock, hair stuck to her face in blood that's not hers, clothes coated in thick mud, legs firmly pinned. She must make quite the sorry image. But Thal doesn't have much time to think about it as he comes to her aide, the weight slowly lifting enough for her to feel that her legs are free. In a crawling, twisting combination, she rolls clear of the lamptlighter, flopping on her back with a small huffing groan that sounds a lot like "Thanks."
Ah, but then there's her warm blood trickling down her leg, where she can now feel the sharp absence of a fang that had extended below the jaw into the side of her calf. The black of her clothes makes it hard to spot, and she sucks in a breath to clear the red at the edge of her vision, not really wanting to draw attention to the injury. It's something she can handle on her own later.
Glancing at where Vesper grips his side, she gives him a cursory scan for other wounds, disguising the worry with a narrowing of her eyes. Other than a split lip, she doesn't see any blood on him, but she still asks, "You okay?" She associates the accompanying concern with one of selfish desires not to have her mistake be the reason they'd ended up injured, the pang in her chest being guilt more than anything.
Ah, but then there's her warm blood trickling down her leg, where she can now feel the sharp absence of a fang that had extended below the jaw into the side of her calf. The black of her clothes makes it hard to spot, and she sucks in a breath to clear the red at the edge of her vision, not really wanting to draw attention to the injury. It's something she can handle on her own later.
Glancing at where Vesper grips his side, she gives him a cursory scan for other wounds, disguising the worry with a narrowing of her eyes. Other than a split lip, she doesn't see any blood on him, but she still asks, "You okay?" She associates the accompanying concern with one of selfish desires not to have her mistake be the reason they'd ended up injured, the pang in her chest being guilt more than anything.
Would you like me to be smaller, weaker, softer, taller?
Would you like me to be quiet?
Would you like me to be quiet?
