Thalassa
As someone who is perpetually by the ocean and wet more often than she'd care to admit, Thal is probably one of the few Ancients who doesn't mind the rain so long as it's not frigid cold. And lucky for her, Torchline is rarely cold, so as she walks the Rainbow Road, it's with a confident and comfortable casualness, fire flicking and sizzling where it weaves through her fingertips.
Despite the downpours and dreary skies, work doesn't stop for opportunists like herself. She'd come to meet a prospective client who was interested in some rare gems she'd found in a sunken chest a few months back. But he'd chuckled and asked her to bring the Captain next time. She hadn't heard anything else he'd had to say- and neither would anyone else ever again.
Blood dries and flakes from her fingertips as she hums to herself, satisfied with the trip even if it hadn't turned out the way she'd expected. It's probably better this way. One less misogynist in the world.
The geyser in front of her falls away in a shower of rainbow mist to reveal a depressing figure ahead. Thal tenses at first, always suspicious of strangers in stranger places. Her eyes narrow while the soft pad of her footsteps slow, scrutinizing the odd shapes that take form: blonde hair, muted smoke, a ranchers hat. Recognition passes, the adrenaline settling in light of the sad excuse for an adversary. Thal doesn't quiet the wet pad of her boots when she approaches, tail and fire mirroring each other in a silent, playful dance. Her voice is a lilting melody, a siren calling out sweetly to those stranded ashore. "Lost, cowgirl?" A fanged, teasing grin spreads across her face, eyes shimmering in the dim light of the rain to land on Colt in her sorry state.
Despite the downpours and dreary skies, work doesn't stop for opportunists like herself. She'd come to meet a prospective client who was interested in some rare gems she'd found in a sunken chest a few months back. But he'd chuckled and asked her to bring the Captain next time. She hadn't heard anything else he'd had to say- and neither would anyone else ever again.
Blood dries and flakes from her fingertips as she hums to herself, satisfied with the trip even if it hadn't turned out the way she'd expected. It's probably better this way. One less misogynist in the world.
The geyser in front of her falls away in a shower of rainbow mist to reveal a depressing figure ahead. Thal tenses at first, always suspicious of strangers in stranger places. Her eyes narrow while the soft pad of her footsteps slow, scrutinizing the odd shapes that take form: blonde hair, muted smoke, a ranchers hat. Recognition passes, the adrenaline settling in light of the sad excuse for an adversary. Thal doesn't quiet the wet pad of her boots when she approaches, tail and fire mirroring each other in a silent, playful dance. Her voice is a lilting melody, a siren calling out sweetly to those stranded ashore. "Lost, cowgirl?" A fanged, teasing grin spreads across her face, eyes shimmering in the dim light of the rain to land on Colt in her sorry state.
But when I wake up,
I see You with me.
I see You with me.
