you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared

Vhalla had yet to decide if she was truly angry with Tetradore for breaking into her home to simply listen to her play, if she was being honest with herself, deep down somewhere she might have been flattered, but those thoughts rarely surfaced in the assassin. Instead, she folds her hands across her chest, eyeing him suspiciously as he simply meows at her. "I don't speak feline," Vhalla snaps at him, a brow arched at the way he simply lays down and peers over the edge at her. Tilting her head up to look at him, she huffs, "You look far too relaxed for your own good," she grumbles before taking a step back to better look at him, "I haven't decided if I'm mad at you yet," she admits, surprised at her honesty.

Perhaps it was easier to talk to someone who couldn't talk back.

Though her cheeks are still tinged with pink, she reaches down to retrieve the now empty water bottle and turning on her heel back to the stairs. Pausing she looks over her shoulder, "Well, are you coming? Or do I need to beckon you with treats? I'm sure I can scrounge up a mouse or two," she cracks a smile at her own joke leading her way back up the stairs and into the apartment leaving the door open, she thinks about shutting it momentarily, only so that he has to shift to open it, you know, opposable thumbs and all.

As she wanders back into the living room, she sets the empty bottle on the counter top and slides into the bench again, resting her elbows on the now covered keys, her leg crossed delicately over the other as she eyes the panther passively as he wanders into her room after her. That anger that normally lies in wait beneath her skin is strangely void from her face, simply replaced with curiosity and perhaps a touch of embarrassment for being caught, it was not something she shared with anyone, her singing nor her piano playing, but the were-creature had found her out.

Vhalla felt that her music side stripped her bare, it was hard to hide her feelings when she was playing the piano, and her voice carried all the heartbreak and what little happiness she had, she never truly wanted to share that with anyone, yet she finds herself not particularly angry at Tetradore, simply interested in why he turned up again. When she last saw him, he had been helping clean her wounds, the assassin didn't think she would see him again after that but he managed to pop up again and again. She found she didn't particularly mind his company, he seemed to be cut from the same cloth as she was.

Releasing a small sigh, she gestures behind him to the blanket sprawled across the couch, a clear indication where she spent most of her nights, "There's a blanket there you can use if you'd like to shift," she offers before dropping her hand into her lap again, "Like I said, I can't understand you when you're in this form. Oh wait, I got it," she snaps a finger, a devilish grin dancing on her lips, "Meow once for yes and twice for no," she laughs quietly to herself before continuing, "I've never owned a cat before but I'm sure I could scrounge up some string for you to play with," she smiles again, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

That restlessness has subsided slightly as her energy is focused on the jaguar before her, "Really though, why are you here? I honestly thought that after last time you, er, helped me that would be enough of seeing me," she quirks a tired smile, before reclining back into the piano, her white hair falling in waves over her shoulders. "Or maybe I'm crazy and you really aren't Tetradore and I'm talking to a big ass cat in my living room."

Curiosity takes her over as she leans forward again, bringing herself to a standing position, she hesitates briefly before strolling towards him, stopping just inches away from him. When he was in his cat form, it made Vhalla bolder and more honest with herself, perhaps it was simply because she wasn't speaking to a human face, but the face of an animal. Pausing, she watches him carefully before reaching out her fingers and trailing them through the fur of his head, even going so far as to scratch him briefly behind the ear, "You're much softer than I'd imagined, your fur looks so wiry."

Vhalla Solarn

To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered