Thalassa
Raising an eyebrow at the bold claim, Thal lowers her arms, the fire following to weave through her fingertips like it might be taking notes of all the ways she finds the woman lacking. "We'll see about that." She tilts her head, watching the fyrhund appear with quiet assessment before declaring, "I heard about some ROUS hiding out in the caves. Maybe you can find them." The message is clear: the woman is on her own for this part.
Rolling her shoulders like she's shrugging on a cloak, her skin ripples into fur, heat pushing through in cracks of molten lava that glow softly against the damp walls of the cave. Her eyes gleam a dangerous blue, watching the fyrhund with a predatory grace that has little to do with her shift. Unlike the other Ancient, Thal doesn't wag her tail, only a slight flick of the tip showing her potential amusement - or annoyance. A signal for the hunt to begin - if she's able to back up her words.
Rolling her shoulders like she's shrugging on a cloak, her skin ripples into fur, heat pushing through in cracks of molten lava that glow softly against the damp walls of the cave. Her eyes gleam a dangerous blue, watching the fyrhund with a predatory grace that has little to do with her shift. Unlike the other Ancient, Thal doesn't wag her tail, only a slight flick of the tip showing her potential amusement - or annoyance. A signal for the hunt to begin - if she's able to back up her words.
Bite my tongue, bide my time
Wearing a warning sign
Wearing a warning sign
