07-31-2020, 08:51 PM
It was doubtful she would find her own answers at Snake Bay, yet it seemed questionable given her directionlessness that she would find answers at all. When the mood struck her, Thalia was as determined as a river’s ceaseless tides, though much like such forces she did not always take the direct route. She believed in fate’s crossroads, and she was in no great haste -- the current would sweep where it willed. Something in Kemala’s words prickled the warmth of camaraderie, and she was content in the glow of that unusual gift.
She held up her injured palm, then added. “Not really. Thank you, though. I would give it a go, but I should probably be careful of this. You never really realise how much you use your hands until you’re not supposed to.” Her fingers curled back over, and the hand sank back into her lap. She would have happily tried too, despite that she would probably have looked akin to one of the lake’s nerpa seals in the attempt, at least in comparison with such elegance. Not that that bothered her at all, but she would like the wound to heal at some point, and she already tested it more than she should.
A laugh spluttered for the internal image, and she deposited the sketchbook back into the confines of her rucksack so that Kemala had room to continue her practise as she wished, though she seemed in no great hurry to leave. At the same time her wallet began to hum and vibrate somewhere in its depths, and though she did not fish it out her eyes did marginally widen. It was an alarm, not a call. “Ah! I need to catch a ferry. I will meet you tomorrow, yes? We’ll go to the hot springs. I’d like to see them too.” She smiled brightly, reaching for the loose sketch in order to scribble her name and contact along the edge of one slithering tentacle.
Then she hopped up and wriggled into a pair of shorts -- the tshirt was still a little damp, as was the costume underneath, but it’d do -- and presently realised her shoes were -- where? Somewhere back in the sand where she had been sitting before, probably. Hopefully. She hoisted her bag. “Tomorrow!” she promised.
She held up her injured palm, then added. “Not really. Thank you, though. I would give it a go, but I should probably be careful of this. You never really realise how much you use your hands until you’re not supposed to.” Her fingers curled back over, and the hand sank back into her lap. She would have happily tried too, despite that she would probably have looked akin to one of the lake’s nerpa seals in the attempt, at least in comparison with such elegance. Not that that bothered her at all, but she would like the wound to heal at some point, and she already tested it more than she should.
A laugh spluttered for the internal image, and she deposited the sketchbook back into the confines of her rucksack so that Kemala had room to continue her practise as she wished, though she seemed in no great hurry to leave. At the same time her wallet began to hum and vibrate somewhere in its depths, and though she did not fish it out her eyes did marginally widen. It was an alarm, not a call. “Ah! I need to catch a ferry. I will meet you tomorrow, yes? We’ll go to the hot springs. I’d like to see them too.” She smiled brightly, reaching for the loose sketch in order to scribble her name and contact along the edge of one slithering tentacle.
Then she hopped up and wriggled into a pair of shorts -- the tshirt was still a little damp, as was the costume underneath, but it’d do -- and presently realised her shoes were -- where? Somewhere back in the sand where she had been sitting before, probably. Hopefully. She hoisted her bag. “Tomorrow!” she promised.
![[Image: thal-banner-scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/thal-banner-scaled.jpg)