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

Their walk was silent, the woman hardly able to move her lips to form intelligible words. At this point, the assassin is merely clenching her jaw together to keep from biting her tongue off as shiver after shiver racks her body. She continues to grasp at the magic in the pit of her stomach and yet, she's unable to get ahold of it, it continues to slip through her fingers and in turn, she's unable to heat her body. So, she does what anyone would do, she seeks warmth and the heat was Lazarus. Snuggling in closer to him, she demands he put his arm around her and his dry remark doesn't get a rise out of Vhalla, merely because she was so cold. She couldn't come up with a witty remark even if she wanted to, instead, she presses harder into Lazarus's side, hardly caring that she was getting him wet. When the man finally wraps his arm around her, it helps but not much, she relishes in the warmth for the briefest of moments as they continue out of the forest. It doesn't take long to reach the warehouse, yet, it feels like an eternity for the woman, her lips turning a dark purple, her hands bright red, her cheeks pale as if the blood had been drained from her body.

Pulling out of his grasp, she grasps at the handle, though she's unsuccessful as she glances back at Laz, who in turns, opens the door for her. Sighing, she steps inside and staggers up those stairs, allowing Lazarus to guide her with his hand. As they finally enter the warmth of the apartment, the air wraps around her, though it hardly does anything as she is thoroughly soaked. Turning to him, those icy blue eyes find him as she tells him she will need help out of her suit and she can see the brief war that wages in his eyes. At this moment, both of them were entirely aware of what had happened recently within this apartment, what they did what they felt. Neither would admit it and yet, something had shifted between the two of them. Turning away from him, she leads him down that hallway into that bedroom, those sheets still unmade from their recent... interaction, though, Vhalla is careful to train her eyes away from that bed and instead, slips that soaked jacket to the floor. His comment has Vhalla glancing over her shoulder, brows raised, "You've already seen it all anyways," she states bluntly, carefully concealing her own feelings that battle in her mind.

"Plus, the last time I checked I'm a rather fine specimen, I'd be disappointed if you didn't look," Vhalla comments with amusement, her own arrogance tinging that statement, though there is a touch of... wanting tacked onto her words, unable to completely hide it from Laz. As she waits, she can feel that hesitation in the man, her blue eyes glancing back over her shoulder once more as her body shudders with the cold, "Well, get on with it," she demands as another shiver racks her body, "I am literally freezing to death and you're just standing there," she grunts at him, turning away when his fingers finally find that zipper on her back. As he begins to unzip it, her body lines with goosebumps, though, they were hardly from the cold. It was like he was torturing her and he was hardly touching her. His finger brushing her back so slowly practically set her on fire, she wanted more she wanted him to touch her. Tilting her head, she exposes her long, pale neck as Lazarus continues to unzip her. There seems to be a pause mid-zip, Vhalla's own body stiffening as she straightens. Either the man didn't remember those scars or he didn't see them with their last encounter.

She waits for the demand, the interrogation that is surely to come and yet, it doesn't. Instead, Lazarus merely finishes his administrations and steps away, his voice far too even for Vhalla's liking. As that suit slips off her shoulders, she wraps her arms around herself so it wouldn't expose anything, her eyes training on the man once more, that gaze void of emotion. "I disobeyed orders," she explains, though she hardly knows why she tells him, he didn't ask nor did he look like he cared in the slightest and yet, Vhalla had offered that bit of honesty, a token of trust. Turning away from him, she didn't want pity, as she sluggishly move towards the bathtub, pushing the rest of that suit off her body and kicking her shoes off. She doesn't care that Lazarus is still in the bathroom, nor does she care that his eyes are surely trained on her naked backside as she simply steps up and into that tub, the massive tub reaching up to her shoulders as she leans forward and cranks the water all the way up. The water practically scalds her, though she hardly cares in the moment. Reaching up, she pulls her braid out, shaking her head as her white locks fall in waves down her back, hiding those scars. Leaning back, the tub fills quickly, quickly covering her chest, bubbles practically overflowing out of the tub.

Turning those blue eyes back to the man, she arches a brow at him, a roguish smile adorning her lips. "There's plenty of room for two," she drawls lazily, her shudders finally subsiding as she gestures with her hand to the other end of the tub. The assassin doesn't expect him to strip and slip into that tub though there's a part of her that hopes he does, a touch of excitement boiling in the pit of her stomach.

Vhalla Solarn

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