Thalassa
Too intoxicated to be scared
Thal hasn't quite been herself in recent weeks. If not for Asta, she might have wandered all of Caido in numb oblivion until she slowly went mad with bloodlust or formed into a very depressing statue. Her swagger and confidence hadn't fully returned yet, feeling like an echo of the fire that once blazed behind her eyes. Nothing felt right or worth doing, but maybe that's why she'd fallen on old habits: sparring, drinking, sex, and sailing. Not particularly in that order.
Yet nothing seemed to spark that heat, the emotions getting swallowed into the abyss that always reminded her of what was missing. It was frustrating, but even that emotion didn't linger, swept away in the current of constant ache.
Wanting to feel something even if it's pain, Thal makes her way into the
Burrows for the first time in forever, barely having a moment to take in the surroundings before she spots a familiar face. "Danta..." She wears her usual attire, but it feels off, likes it's missing an accessory or blood to give it character, the black feeling more oppressive than threatening. Her hair is tamer than it's been, the black tresses framing the darker hue of her blue eyes that aren't as sharp as usual.
Overall, she looks like shit.
But that doesn't stop her from stepping in a little farther, doing her best to look nonchalant and confident, even as the shrug of her shoulders is stilted and uncomfortable. "I thought some sparring might help take my mind off things, but if you're busy..."
Yet nothing seemed to spark that heat, the emotions getting swallowed into the abyss that always reminded her of what was missing. It was frustrating, but even that emotion didn't linger, swept away in the current of constant ache.
Wanting to feel something even if it's pain, Thal makes her way into the
Burrows for the first time in forever, barely having a moment to take in the surroundings before she spots a familiar face. "Danta..." She wears her usual attire, but it feels off, likes it's missing an accessory or blood to give it character, the black feeling more oppressive than threatening. Her hair is tamer than it's been, the black tresses framing the darker hue of her blue eyes that aren't as sharp as usual.
Overall, she looks like shit.
But that doesn't stop her from stepping in a little farther, doing her best to look nonchalant and confident, even as the shrug of her shoulders is stilted and uncomfortable. "I thought some sparring might help take my mind off things, but if you're busy..."
