Thalassa
The humming energy in the air doesn't draw her eyes, their empty gaze fixed to the ground with such a lack of intensity that neither the deafening lightning strikes nor the friendly face can register. Only her name breaks through, not the syllables that mean nothing to her or the grating tone that echoes over the thundering, but the accent that feels like a memory, of warm drinks and laughter, of security and acceptance.
There's a pause, a breath of quiet recognition that stirs something human from the hollow depths - along with the less desirable emotions. It halts her progress, calling her to seek the source and the refuge it provides amidst the turmoil beginning to resurface. Like a sleeping limb prickling to life, she feels the needles that hint at wounds and torn pieces of her heart, the sensations slowly awakening against her will.
Her ears flatten to her head as it lowers, a flinch of pain that has an unfamiliar sound rumbling from her chest, too high to be threatening. Still, she turns carefully to look at her friend, an intelligence and understanding finally emerging through the glaze, accompanied by a suffering that's tender enough to explain the dragging tail and hunched shoulders. But despite every indication of her pain, there's a tense hesitation in her muscles, a straining that doesn't know what to do or how to make it stop.
There's a pause, a breath of quiet recognition that stirs something human from the hollow depths - along with the less desirable emotions. It halts her progress, calling her to seek the source and the refuge it provides amidst the turmoil beginning to resurface. Like a sleeping limb prickling to life, she feels the needles that hint at wounds and torn pieces of her heart, the sensations slowly awakening against her will.
Her ears flatten to her head as it lowers, a flinch of pain that has an unfamiliar sound rumbling from her chest, too high to be threatening. Still, she turns carefully to look at her friend, an intelligence and understanding finally emerging through the glaze, accompanied by a suffering that's tender enough to explain the dragging tail and hunched shoulders. But despite every indication of her pain, there's a tense hesitation in her muscles, a straining that doesn't know what to do or how to make it stop.
Bite my tongue, bide my time
Wearing a warning sign
Wearing a warning sign
