His words sound too painfully familiar, her suspicions rising before he even deigns to call her 'darlin' in that drawling tone that feels like sandpaper against every ache and bruise. She doesn't need to understand how he knows, only that he does. Suddenly, she doesn't feel like the predator anymore, her haunches raising and her head lowering in preparation for whatever attack he might throw her way, the illusion broken in a single word. Because she's not just a tiger stalking through the garden, she's a prideful woman who has too much history to ignore, too many feelings to comprehend, and too many thoughts to organize.
When Vesper blinks into existence in front of her, Thal is already shifting, the snarling lips of her tiger form unmistakably the same on her own fanged features, even if her appearance is slightly more disheveled from the hunt and weeks of distracted attempts to find direction. Regardless, there's still a recognizable fire burning in her eyes - although dampened with pain - as she looks stubbornly up at him. "You're not worth hiding from." She won't admit her feelings - she never does - especially not to someone else. She'd rather he think she hates him than know how much damage his words can do.
Without any more foreplay or preamble, she strikes forward with a flaming fist at his chest, the fire spreading faster as it catches against easier emotions. "Call me 'darlin' again." Even if the punch doesn't land, the threat does, jagged and full of simmering violence.
Then she darts away, melting into the shadows - not hiding, but disguising herself in the dark recess of the hedge for the next opportunity to strike.
1/4
When Vesper blinks into existence in front of her, Thal is already shifting, the snarling lips of her tiger form unmistakably the same on her own fanged features, even if her appearance is slightly more disheveled from the hunt and weeks of distracted attempts to find direction. Regardless, there's still a recognizable fire burning in her eyes - although dampened with pain - as she looks stubbornly up at him. "You're not worth hiding from." She won't admit her feelings - she never does - especially not to someone else. She'd rather he think she hates him than know how much damage his words can do.
Without any more foreplay or preamble, she strikes forward with a flaming fist at his chest, the fire spreading faster as it catches against easier emotions. "Call me 'darlin' again." Even if the punch doesn't land, the threat does, jagged and full of simmering violence.
Then she darts away, melting into the shadows - not hiding, but disguising herself in the dark recess of the hedge for the next opportunity to strike.
1/4
thalassa
so don't waste the time i don't have
