10-24-2018, 08:00 PM
It was a lot to take in, and it all sounded pretty terrible. Ghostly assassins, a conspiracy against Ascendancy, a being that could take control of another person.
“So now she's somewhere in the city, or wherever these things live. And she's pissed off.” Well that sounded just great. A frown flickered across her expression, though this time it was not in reaction to his fear but in consideration of the itch in her fingers. The compulsion that inked such images on the page. And why. Questions she couldn't answer, a feeling she couldn't articulate. How could she even begin to explain Yana?
“The power of the gods. Is that what you call it?” Her nose scrunched instead. The power didn't feel godly to her, though she had certainly come to find it beautiful. But it was an earthly beauty, rooted in life and nature, not something fantastical. It floated on her peripheral even now, and honestly it was hard to fathom that it had ever been something she'd been afraid of.
She snorted laughter at the tease as she keyed in her own details, glad for his humour. “My name is Thalia. It's a shame about all the myths not being literally real. My nana told us some great stories growing up, and I always wanted to travel through a faerie door.”
“I know a “werewolf” actually. They have the most beautiful eyes, like dawn and sunset rolled into one. Great to paint. But I guess it makes them a target too. My friend hides them.” Wolves filled up her sketchpads of late, and she assumed it was because of Calvin. Thalia wasn't entirely sure how any of it worked; didn't let herself dwell much on it either, but she wasn't blind to the connections either. Not anymore. Technically weird had always been a part of her life too, though she doubted her own brushes with that world came anything close to the things he hinted at. Something held her back from asking more though, like an echo of a memory.
“So now she's somewhere in the city, or wherever these things live. And she's pissed off.” Well that sounded just great. A frown flickered across her expression, though this time it was not in reaction to his fear but in consideration of the itch in her fingers. The compulsion that inked such images on the page. And why. Questions she couldn't answer, a feeling she couldn't articulate. How could she even begin to explain Yana?
“The power of the gods. Is that what you call it?” Her nose scrunched instead. The power didn't feel godly to her, though she had certainly come to find it beautiful. But it was an earthly beauty, rooted in life and nature, not something fantastical. It floated on her peripheral even now, and honestly it was hard to fathom that it had ever been something she'd been afraid of.
She snorted laughter at the tease as she keyed in her own details, glad for his humour. “My name is Thalia. It's a shame about all the myths not being literally real. My nana told us some great stories growing up, and I always wanted to travel through a faerie door.”
“I know a “werewolf” actually. They have the most beautiful eyes, like dawn and sunset rolled into one. Great to paint. But I guess it makes them a target too. My friend hides them.” Wolves filled up her sketchpads of late, and she assumed it was because of Calvin. Thalia wasn't entirely sure how any of it worked; didn't let herself dwell much on it either, but she wasn't blind to the connections either. Not anymore. Technically weird had always been a part of her life too, though she doubted her own brushes with that world came anything close to the things he hinted at. Something held her back from asking more though, like an echo of a memory.