Thalassa
The problem
with wearing a dress
with wearing a dress
She won't admit that she likes when the woman doesn't bristle from her snark, the purse in her lips implying otherwise when she shrugs her shoulders. "Sounds like you need a leash." It's not really as biting - a bit of lazy humor almost breaking into the storm wall of her emotions - but it's also not friendly. If she was being 'friendly' she might have offered to use her skills to grab the woman another drink just to prove she could, but Thal just doesn't care.
Until it turns back on her.
If there's one thing she hates more than disrespect, it's pity, and this feels awfully close. It rubs against her pride and sharpens her gaze to that of a dagger point. "No, worse is having to deal with people who don't know when to shut up." The bottle is at her lips, a large swig of it cutting off further conversation. It'll take a hefty amount to get her buzzed, but at least the alcohol warms her stomach and forces open the clench of her jaw.
The edge of her black cloak falls closed over the gossamer bodice of her dress as she lowers the bottle to the table. She thinks she might have a moment of peace until the woman - 'Colt' apparently - is talking again. Thal flicks her eyes briefly to Colt before letting them roam the party, not bothering to respond with more than a small hum of annoyed acknowledgement.
The thing is that she doesn't want to give her name in return because she doesn't want to be 'Thal' tonight. 'Thal' has dealt with too much and gotten kicked down a few too many times in the last few weeks. 'Thal' has history with people. 'Thal' has emotions that she'd much rather forget. 'Thal' is weak. And she'd much rather just not deal with all that right now.
Until it turns back on her.
If there's one thing she hates more than disrespect, it's pity, and this feels awfully close. It rubs against her pride and sharpens her gaze to that of a dagger point. "No, worse is having to deal with people who don't know when to shut up." The bottle is at her lips, a large swig of it cutting off further conversation. It'll take a hefty amount to get her buzzed, but at least the alcohol warms her stomach and forces open the clench of her jaw.
The edge of her black cloak falls closed over the gossamer bodice of her dress as she lowers the bottle to the table. She thinks she might have a moment of peace until the woman - 'Colt' apparently - is talking again. Thal flicks her eyes briefly to Colt before letting them roam the party, not bothering to respond with more than a small hum of annoyed acknowledgement.
The thing is that she doesn't want to give her name in return because she doesn't want to be 'Thal' tonight. 'Thal' has dealt with too much and gotten kicked down a few too many times in the last few weeks. 'Thal' has history with people. 'Thal' has emotions that she'd much rather forget. 'Thal' is weak. And she'd much rather just not deal with all that right now.
is that it clashes
with a sword.
with a sword.
