Fool me once, fool me twice
Are you death or paradise?
Are you death or paradise?
Although she can't say what about the rumors is real or fiction, she nods her head, promising the demigod, "I will." Her smile is knowing and a tad mischievous, curious as to what kind of chaos might be brewing and how her friend might play a role in all of it.
When the topic turns to Asta's interaction with their goddess, she faces him more fully on the blanket, her smile fading to rapt engagement. The lightning around them is but a fun spectacle, her attention captivated by the tale he weaves. Her glass hangs forgotten between them as Thal displays her intrigue, shock, and ultimate amusement when Dygra - in her physical form - slapped him. Laughing at the big reveal, Thal finally takes another sip of her whiskey, grinning into her glass. "I'd have slapped you too." The blue of her eyes shine with affection and a bit of pride, even more certain that she would have paid a lot to see that.
Lowering her glass to the blanket, she accepts the meat, tearing off a smaller strip from it to offer out to the dragonling. "I would expect nothing less." Of the kiss and bite exchange. It's fitting for him as much as their goddess, a demonstration of love and devotion that is something wholly them.
Cautious of where her fingers are near the tiny teeth of the dragonling, Thal narrows her eyes. She hadn't heard of the Peepholes, and she tilts her head to hear more of what he has to say. "Lights? What were they?"
Another crackle of lightning silhouette the murder of crows that fly over their heads, their eerie cries as common as the thunder or lightning around these parts. Unless they decide to dive for the meat in her hands, Thal is content to let them fly on their way, perhaps having their feathers singed along the way.
When the topic turns to Asta's interaction with their goddess, she faces him more fully on the blanket, her smile fading to rapt engagement. The lightning around them is but a fun spectacle, her attention captivated by the tale he weaves. Her glass hangs forgotten between them as Thal displays her intrigue, shock, and ultimate amusement when Dygra - in her physical form - slapped him. Laughing at the big reveal, Thal finally takes another sip of her whiskey, grinning into her glass. "I'd have slapped you too." The blue of her eyes shine with affection and a bit of pride, even more certain that she would have paid a lot to see that.
Lowering her glass to the blanket, she accepts the meat, tearing off a smaller strip from it to offer out to the dragonling. "I would expect nothing less." Of the kiss and bite exchange. It's fitting for him as much as their goddess, a demonstration of love and devotion that is something wholly them.
Cautious of where her fingers are near the tiny teeth of the dragonling, Thal narrows her eyes. She hadn't heard of the Peepholes, and she tilts her head to hear more of what he has to say. "Lights? What were they?"
Another crackle of lightning silhouette the murder of crows that fly over their heads, their eerie cries as common as the thunder or lightning around these parts. Unless they decide to dive for the meat in her hands, Thal is content to let them fly on their way, perhaps having their feathers singed along the way.
Now you'll never see me cry
There's just no time to die
There's just no time to die
Thalassa
