Contemplatin', beg your pardon
Charlie's flippant display of blood doesn't even faze Thal, who actually likes to be elbow deep in gore whenever she can - as evidenced by the blood coating her own hands, the bone balanced by her finger as the wax stabilizes around it. That didn't mean she 'opened up' whenever blood was on her hands. It makes her all the more skeptical about people just divulging their secrets to a stranger.
A teasing look forms in her eyes, looking up from the pooling mixture of substances. "And you can tell what someone needs just by looking at them?" There's a quiet intensity there, a question she's not sure even she knows the answer to, but one she's curious to know how Charlie will answer - if she dares.
The sudden warmth she finds in return is strange, the sincerity rare enough to be a surprise, a discomfort she doesn't let show beyond a slight twitch of her tail. Pulling her own delicate finger away from the bone sticking upright, Thal chuckles as she moves to retrieve another bone. "You mean to tell me you don't have an agenda?" Her eyebrow raises, the playful accusation clear on her face. Everyone has an agenda, even if it's just to feel good about themselves or convince someone their deity is superior or, apparently, make them 'more fun to worship with.'
Turning away, she reaches back into the deer, grabbing the second bone and twisting it out in another symphony of tearing fibers, a hum of satisfaction joining the music. "Hm. Maybe I should visit here more often."
A teasing look forms in her eyes, looking up from the pooling mixture of substances. "And you can tell what someone needs just by looking at them?" There's a quiet intensity there, a question she's not sure even she knows the answer to, but one she's curious to know how Charlie will answer - if she dares.
The sudden warmth she finds in return is strange, the sincerity rare enough to be a surprise, a discomfort she doesn't let show beyond a slight twitch of her tail. Pulling her own delicate finger away from the bone sticking upright, Thal chuckles as she moves to retrieve another bone. "You mean to tell me you don't have an agenda?" Her eyebrow raises, the playful accusation clear on her face. Everyone has an agenda, even if it's just to feel good about themselves or convince someone their deity is superior or, apparently, make them 'more fun to worship with.'
Turning away, she reaches back into the deer, grabbing the second bone and twisting it out in another symphony of tearing fibers, a hum of satisfaction joining the music. "Hm. Maybe I should visit here more often."
Thalassa
But there's a part of me that recognizes you
