[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/ssxt53R/Thalia-Evercrest.png[/img][/center][sub]Location: Eye of the Beholder[right]Interactions: Aldrick [@SpicyMeatball][/right][/sub][hr]
[indent]The lingering warmth of his breath held steadfast long after he had withdrawn, a ghostly sensation she dared not fully confront. Thalia’s delicate fingers hovered over the neck of the bottle, her gaze entranced by the amber liquid swirling within its confines. All the while, the hushed burn of his voice reverberated in her mind, low and molten, encircling the remnants of his words like tendrils of smoke.

At first, she refrained from watching him depart. Instead, she allowed her eyes to meander along the weathered grains of the table. There was something infuriating about the man and yet…something undeniably magnetic clung to him, a pull she found difficult to ignore. Her fingers caressed the bottle languidly, a touch that betrayed her contemplation. Only when she could no longer resist that irresistible pull did her gaze ascend, capturing the flicker of his retreating silhouette as he expertly navigated the bustling chaos of the tavern.

A soft exhale escaped Thalia’s lips, the corners curving upwards in a reluctant smile.

[color=#663399]“Stonemason,”[/color] she whispered under her breath, the term like a riddle to her ears waiting to be solved. It danced in her mind as she considered its significance, its texture, its implications. What precisely had he intended by bestowing such a proposal upon her? The mere contemplation of unraveling that mystery ignited a thrill within her chest, a pulse of excitement that left her both curious and apprehensive.

Thalia’s fingers curled around the bottle now, more firmly this time, as if she had reached a resolution she was not entirely prepared to articulate aloud. She reclined in her chair, the aged wood creaking softly in protest of her movements, relishing the moment of tranquility before she allowed the drink to touch her lips. She paused, savoring the anticipation before taking a bit more than a couple of sips this time. The warmth that followed coursed through her, both invigorating and stabilizing.

Thalia found herself lost in contemplation once more, remembering the moment when his hand had been just above hers, the rugged texture of his knuckles grazing her skin. It invoked a shiver that coursed through her body like an electric current now. In that fleeting touch, there was an undeniable power but also a careful control, as though he’d known exactly what he was doing. He had bestowed the word "earned" into her lap like a challenge, daring her to rise to the occasion and prove herself worthy of such uncharted territory.


Thalia set the bottle down with a soft thud, her fingertips staying on the cool, smooth surface of the glass as if reluctant to part with the moment. The smirk that played at her lips deepened as she cast one final glance in the direction he’d disappeared.

[color=#663399]“Bold,”[/color] she murmured to herself, her voice barely audible over the hum of the tavern. [color=#663399]“But I’ve seen bolder.”[/color]

As she leaned back in her chair, a shadow fell across the table. Thalia's gaze lifted to behold a rather nervous gentleman—the very same one whom Elio had dismissed moments prior. With a hat clasped nervously between his hands, he offered her a hesitant yet hopeful smile that barely touched the corners of his lips.

[b]“Did that chap give you any trouble, my lady?”[/b] he inquired, gesturing toward the direction which Elio had vanished. His concern appeared genuine, though it struck Thalia as endearing rather than intrusive. With an inquisitive tilt of her head, she scrutinized him for a moment, measuring the authenticity of his concern.

[color=#663399]“Trouble?”[/color] the redhead echoed, reaching for the bottle once more only to discover it had succumbed to emptiness, prompting her to softly tap her fingers against the glass in a rhythm reminiscent of an absent melody. [color=#663399]“No, I believe he’s endeavoring to sidestep it entirely. A pity, indeed,”[/color] she mused.

The man blinked, a palpable hesitation etched across his face. Thalia offered him a dismissive smile, an expression that suggested both indifference and subtle amusement, before rising gracefully to her feet with the empty bottle delicately cradled in her hand. [color=#663399]“Pardon me,”[/color] she articulated, her voice imbued with an air of politeness yet underscored by an unmistakable chill. In silent awe, the man retreated slightly, his eyes widening in surprise as she seamlessly glided toward the center of the room, drawn to the vibrant strains of music.

The soft click of her boots against the floorboards was the only sound that accompanied her departure and subsequent arrival before the musician responsible for it.

Thalia cleared her throat.

[color=#663399]“Excuse me, but are you at all familiar with any old Aurelian tunes?”[/color][/indent]