Dance with the waves, move with the sea,
After checking in with the Dusklight on multiple occasions (and possibly picking a fight with Kia), she's finally been told that Danta is, in fact, in the building this time. She knows she should be happy after all her waiting and hard work and general desire to clear things up, but the anticipation has grown as much as her reluctance. After all, how is she supposed to say 'Relax, it was just a joke' without offending him? Especially when she'd thought him the kind of person who wouldn't let such sarcastic jibes wound his ego? It certainly doesn't give her any hope of how he'll respond to her now.
But she can't just leave it. She's spent the last few months in a haze, letting something else guide her decisions, moving in the shadows, withering her to nothing, and she refuses to be intimidated now. Not when her friendship with Asta is at risk. Not when she thought she was just starting to get along with Danta.
Still, she hesitates for a moment at the door, fixating on the grains of wood and the sound of business running down the hall. Light flickers to catch the glint of a bottle in her hand, the label unrecognizable and coated with the dust of Rae's Fingers. Thal glances down at it, momentarily debating opening it for herself. It'd looked good enough, and there's a chance it might make this conversation less awkward, but she lets out a reluctant sigh and knocks before she can change her mind.
Listening for noise inside, she shifts her weight in her boots, trying to find the right balance between confidence and remorse. It's not an emotion she usually wears and it sits heavily on her shoulders. She'd usually shrug it off, but she forces herself to feel the sensation, a mix of jagged pieces poking at her so that when Danta finally opens the door, Thal is nearly rigid with discomfort, desperately wishing to be put out of her misery.
But she can't just leave it. She's spent the last few months in a haze, letting something else guide her decisions, moving in the shadows, withering her to nothing, and she refuses to be intimidated now. Not when her friendship with Asta is at risk. Not when she thought she was just starting to get along with Danta.
Still, she hesitates for a moment at the door, fixating on the grains of wood and the sound of business running down the hall. Light flickers to catch the glint of a bottle in her hand, the label unrecognizable and coated with the dust of Rae's Fingers. Thal glances down at it, momentarily debating opening it for herself. It'd looked good enough, and there's a chance it might make this conversation less awkward, but she lets out a reluctant sigh and knocks before she can change her mind.
Listening for noise inside, she shifts her weight in her boots, trying to find the right balance between confidence and remorse. It's not an emotion she usually wears and it sits heavily on her shoulders. She'd usually shrug it off, but she forces herself to feel the sensation, a mix of jagged pieces poking at her so that when Danta finally opens the door, Thal is nearly rigid with discomfort, desperately wishing to be put out of her misery.
Thalassa
let the rhythm of the water set your soul free.
