Thalassa
If she wasn't so lost in the numb repetition of phrasing and padding paws, Thal might have been able to catch the smallest hint of a familiar scent through the wash of rain. But that's not the case, and she barely even registers the shift in the atmosphere as a more threatening predator appears. That alone should be concerning, the sharp mind and suspicious nature buried deep beneath the pain, yet she carries on.
When she finally makes it over the hill, her eyes sweep over the nightmare inducing sight. It doesn't strike fear or any kind of recognition like it should, the blue of her gaze calm with an unnaturally empty disinterest. The silver and black molten tiger slows only in the instinctual manner than sees the fire-wreathed monster as an obstacle in her path. She doesn't really look at it, not caring about the threat or looming intimidation any more than where to put her paw next.
When she sees a gap between the trees on the right, she lets her head return to a low hang without a sound.
And walks past.
When she finally makes it over the hill, her eyes sweep over the nightmare inducing sight. It doesn't strike fear or any kind of recognition like it should, the blue of her gaze calm with an unnaturally empty disinterest. The silver and black molten tiger slows only in the instinctual manner than sees the fire-wreathed monster as an obstacle in her path. She doesn't really look at it, not caring about the threat or looming intimidation any more than where to put her paw next.
When she sees a gap between the trees on the right, she lets her head return to a low hang without a sound.
And walks past.
Bite my tongue, bide my time
Wearing a warning sign
Wearing a warning sign
