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

Vhalla is all too aware that in one sentence she had learned far more about Tetradore than she ever thought she would. All of the names he rattles off spark recognition in her mind, she was certain Sam had mentioned Tobias before and Frost, though the assassin never inquired much about who they were or what they did, she almost regrets not prying more information from her once friend. She almost parts her mouth to comment about his sister, but she snaps it close, she was certain the were King would offer the information if he wanted to. Vhalla was merely nosey and she tended to end up right in the middle of chaos wherever she went, so instead she listens to him explain.

He wasn't exactly complaining, he was simply expressing himself; the witch hardly minded, though when he mentions that Frost is the one who had killed him, curiosity sparks in her eyes but she saves her questions for later. She had asked him before how he had come back from the dead but the feline truly didn't know. It was a curious thing and though she knew well enough not to dabble in necromancy there was always someone who could be brought back from the dead; even she wanted to bring someone back. Crushing the idea immediately, she watches him carefully, still fighting that smile she so wanted to give him, instead she chews on that bottom lip, announcing that she will play for him, not missing that look that crosses his face, yet the assassin hardly knew what it meant.

After glancing over her shoulder, she notes that Tet reclines even farther into the couch, his head resting on the arm rest in way that screamed comfortable. And he truly did look lax in her home; not that she minded, though she wouldn't admit it. Taking that deep breath her fingers dance along the keys as she plays, lost in the music she barely remembers that Tetradore is behind her until she finishes, exhaling a breath she didn't realize she was holding. As she pivots on the bench, her eyes searching his features, the assassin is curious as to what he thinks, it must have been halfway decent given that he wasn't cringing as she stares at him.

There is a moment of tense silence and then the man lifts a hand beckoning her to him, that rather apprehensive moment suddenly broken. Vhalla hesitates briefly, before standing and pushing a white lock over her shoulder, her slender legs carrying her gracefully to the couch. She was very much aware that he was still naked beneath that blanket but she is successful to keep her blue eyes only on his face. Tilting her head at him, she takes a seat on the edge of the couch next to where the planes of his stomach are peaking out of the blanket. Turning towards him, she's surprised at her own audacity that she so willingly sat this close to him.

Vhalla could even feel the heat pouring of his body, its only then that she notices the almost dry sheen of sweat on his forward. Furrowing her brows, she clasps her hands in her lap, legs crossing one over the other as she sucks in that bottom lip again, biting it thoughtfully as she considers the man lying on the couch. "Does it hurt?" she asks curiously, clearing her throat, aware that her voice came out much huskier than she had intended. As she waits for a response, her blue eyes travel up to the curls that crown his head an impish grin stretching across her features. Quickly, so he's not able to stop her, she darts a calloused hand up to tug on one of his curls, letting her fingers run briefly through his locks.

"Hmm, I much prefer you as a cat. Your fur is much softer than your hair."

Vhalla Solarn

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