Thalassa
The problem
with wearing a dress
with wearing a dress
As Colt departs, Thal drinks the last dregs from her bottle, having decided she'd rather not deal with any more people. In fact, she's on the verge of leaving altogether, willing to take the risk that her light buzz is enough to keep the heart-wrenching thoughts at bay. It seems better than having to deal with whatever emotions the next person might stir up - particularly a pale Ancient that she'd hoped to never see again.
It's not hard to recognize Maea despite her Ludo disguise, the white hair and short stature revealing enough even if she hadn't recognized the voice that sometimes plays on repeat when she's feeling especially insecure. That vital piece that had made everything so clear is gone, along with the alcohol in her system, making everything muddy again, her emotions complex and confusing, the pain taking a forefront.
She doesn't immediately turn away, lowering the empty bourbon bottle to accept the glass. Her aching blue eyes are narrowed, her fingers delicate around the glass like it might shatter in her grasp. She doesn't even let her fingers brush Maea's, waiting for the catch or the barbed words to strike. "I didn't realize you'd be willing to associate yourself with people like me. Aren't you worried I'll sully your morals? Corrupt you?" There's a bite to her words, even if it's softer than before, wounded.
It's not hard to recognize Maea despite her Ludo disguise, the white hair and short stature revealing enough even if she hadn't recognized the voice that sometimes plays on repeat when she's feeling especially insecure. That vital piece that had made everything so clear is gone, along with the alcohol in her system, making everything muddy again, her emotions complex and confusing, the pain taking a forefront.
She doesn't immediately turn away, lowering the empty bourbon bottle to accept the glass. Her aching blue eyes are narrowed, her fingers delicate around the glass like it might shatter in her grasp. She doesn't even let her fingers brush Maea's, waiting for the catch or the barbed words to strike. "I didn't realize you'd be willing to associate yourself with people like me. Aren't you worried I'll sully your morals? Corrupt you?" There's a bite to her words, even if it's softer than before, wounded.
is that it clashes
with a sword.
with a sword.
