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

Scratching at her elbow absentmindedly, the partially melted leather jacket drags across her arm in an irritating way. The assassin had yet to replace the leather jacket, her plans of buying a new one interrupted by the fairy that followed her like a long lost puppy dog. It was aggravating. Vhalla had even gone out tonight to look for him... what was his name? Thorne? What a stupid name. Using all the tracking abilities she had... she couldn't find him, the woman giving up halfway through the night only to find herself plopped on a barstool in the shadier parts of town. It was her go to, or at least, one of her go to's. To be frank, it was one of the few bars she hadn't been kicked out of. Her volatile and literally fiery temper hardly welcomed among the absurd amount of flammable products within said establishments. It wasn't like she had burnt any of them down... just singed a few counter tops and started a few brawls. Scoffing at the thought, her fingers wrap around a cheap bottle of some sort of amber liquid she and swiped from the corner of the bar before heading out.

Of course, she could pay. She had the money. But it was so much more fun to get away with thievery. Or at least, that's what she kept telling herself as she tips her head back and takes a large swig, the burn is welcome as it courses down her throat and falls into the pit of her stomach. She was hardly as drunk as she would like, the woman having started later than normal and even having retired early back to her warehouse. She had some drunkenness to catch up on, the witch having allowed herself two sober days and the emotions threatened to drown her. It was something she didn't care for and since Ivan didn't really need her lately... well, she was her own worse enemy. She was good at destroying herself without the help of her owner. Rounding a corner, a little too close to the edge, she rams her shoulder into the brick wall, her keys that were in her hand, sent sprawling to the ground.

She's debating on burning down the entirely building just because she could as she throws a dirty glare at the brick wall, as if it was the wall's fault she had run into it. "Fuck," she mutters under her breath before turning away, realizing that very brick wall was far too close to her warehouse to burn down. Bending down, she reaches for her keys and moves a little farther down the sidewalk, her brows pinched with annoyance - the assassin hardly realizing there was someone standing at her door. A vaguely familiar voice has Vhalla's piercing gaze shoot up, her face turning stony when she realizes who it is. Will. It was a man she hadn't seen in years - his promise to stay only for him to up and vanish the next day without a word. The assassin hadn't forgotten. Vhalla pauses in her steps for a brief moment, before continuing forward, her steps stiff as she reaches the door. Giving him one long look, she glances away, unlocking the many locks on the door before shoving it open with a loud screech, "What do you want?" She asks icily before letting herself in, not quite inviting him in but also not leaving him to stand in the dark.

She leaves the door open, allowing him to decide if he was going to deal with her or not, though she hardly looks back to see if he's following her as she takes another drink from the half empty bottle and staggers up the stairs towards the second door that leads into the loft. Shoving open the door, she flicks the light switch on and drops the keys loudly on the table before kicking off her muddied boots and falling onto the couch, bottle still in hand. Her stormy gaze lifts to Will's again, watching him - hardly anything welcoming written into the hard lines of her face. It was, perhaps, not the reaction Will wanted and yet - what could he expect? She doesn't say a word, and instead continues sipping out of that bottle, wishing she had been a little more drunk for this encounter.

Vhalla Solarn

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