Thalassa
Thal nods her head, swallowing back the way his unwavering friendship floods her with shame. She wants to ignore all the aches and the bitterness - to embrace him without remorse - but it feels like too much, like she won't be able to hold the pain anymore. And she's not sure she deserves that.
"I don't know if 'okay' is the right word, not when Maea took my solitude as an invitation to approach me at the party." Her shoulders come up in a shrug, her eyes sweeping to anywhere but Asta as she tries to hide the frustration there, like just saying it is enough to cast aside the emotions it had brought up. After all, he seems eager to depart, and Thal doesn't want to push the limits of their friendship, so she continues nonchalantly, "But I suppose you need to get back to Danta, and I should probably finish packing." As if to absolve him of any guilt or dismiss any suspicions of her excuse, she steps away to roll one of her maps, not noticing that she folds one of the corners in the process.
When she sets it into the chest, her eyes catch on the chime and she pauses, lingering. Her heart wavers in it's confused state, beating with clear appreciation for the first real gift she's received. "Thank you," it's soft and gentle, sincere, "for the wind chime." The words could easily be substituted with gratitude for his friendship, unwilling to let her prideful emotions keep her from expressing her unspoken regret for how she's reacted recently, even if she can't bring herself to release her grip on the distractions from her bigger problems.
"I don't know if 'okay' is the right word, not when Maea took my solitude as an invitation to approach me at the party." Her shoulders come up in a shrug, her eyes sweeping to anywhere but Asta as she tries to hide the frustration there, like just saying it is enough to cast aside the emotions it had brought up. After all, he seems eager to depart, and Thal doesn't want to push the limits of their friendship, so she continues nonchalantly, "But I suppose you need to get back to Danta, and I should probably finish packing." As if to absolve him of any guilt or dismiss any suspicions of her excuse, she steps away to roll one of her maps, not noticing that she folds one of the corners in the process.
When she sets it into the chest, her eyes catch on the chime and she pauses, lingering. Her heart wavers in it's confused state, beating with clear appreciation for the first real gift she's received. "Thank you," it's soft and gentle, sincere, "for the wind chime." The words could easily be substituted with gratitude for his friendship, unwilling to let her prideful emotions keep her from expressing her unspoken regret for how she's reacted recently, even if she can't bring herself to release her grip on the distractions from her bigger problems.
Don't ask questions you don't wanna know
Learned my lesson way too long ago
Learned my lesson way too long ago
