Thalassa
Thal couldn't say her strike was everything she'd hoped for. Her wrist was still securely in his grasp, leaving her unable to dart away and extremely vulnerable to his next attack which came rushing towards her face while she stumbled forward at his tug. The contact snapped her head to the side, pain lacing her lip and cheek where his fist struck. She was so stunned that she froze for a minute, her tongue dragging out to lick lazily at the split in her lip, debating her next move.
Because he hadn't just hit her, he'd backhanded her. Like she was some sort of unruly woman needing of discipline or a mistress who'd spoken out of turn. And even though she knew Hadama hadn't meant it as anything more than a point in their spar, Thal could think of a hundred other ways he could have responded to her that didn't make her feel like trash - like how she'd felt multiple times these last few weeks.
Knowing that he probably wouldn't realize his error, the anger on her face was more muted than it might have been, dark and stormy beneath a dangerously calm exterior. Choosing to use mostly her words, she flexed her jaw against the blooming ache there. Her voice was a near whisper, the taste of blood on her tongue. "Never hit me like that again." Before he could respond, she slammed her heeled boot into his foot (not too hard, but hard enough), hoping again for him to release her so she might put some distance between them.
Because he hadn't just hit her, he'd backhanded her. Like she was some sort of unruly woman needing of discipline or a mistress who'd spoken out of turn. And even though she knew Hadama hadn't meant it as anything more than a point in their spar, Thal could think of a hundred other ways he could have responded to her that didn't make her feel like trash - like how she'd felt multiple times these last few weeks.
Knowing that he probably wouldn't realize his error, the anger on her face was more muted than it might have been, dark and stormy beneath a dangerously calm exterior. Choosing to use mostly her words, she flexed her jaw against the blooming ache there. Her voice was a near whisper, the taste of blood on her tongue. "Never hit me like that again." Before he could respond, she slammed her heeled boot into his foot (not too hard, but hard enough), hoping again for him to release her so she might put some distance between them.
Don't ask questions you don't wanna know
Learned my lesson way too long ago
Learned my lesson way too long ago
