Thalassa
Hit me hard and soft
The dagger slices through rocky hide, a score of lava leaking from the wound as Aithne moves. Thal doesn't relish in her success, knowing that a moment's lack of focus can cost her. Instead, she hums, the obsidian dagger changing course midair to find her. It twists, a red glow the only indication of it in the darkness as it snaps back into the clutch of her fingers.
Twisting it in her grasp, Thal darts away from the snapping fangs with ease, reappearing at Aithne's side. She could reach out with her dagger, slash her side, draw more lava into the grass, but a different magic rises in response, and she stretches out a hand to make contact with the stony exterior. The siphon magic beneath her skin is ready, seeking to draw on the fyrhund's life force.
3/4
Twisting it in her grasp, Thal darts away from the snapping fangs with ease, reappearing at Aithne's side. She could reach out with her dagger, slash her side, draw more lava into the grass, but a different magic rises in response, and she stretches out a hand to make contact with the stony exterior. The siphon magic beneath her skin is ready, seeking to draw on the fyrhund's life force.
3/4
