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

The disgust on the Russian woman's face is entirely lost on the assassin, Vhalla far too wrapped up in her own problems to even notice the way the stranger's face contorts. Hunching over she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her stomach feeling hollow and empty inside. It's a miracle she hadn't passed out already by lack of food in her body though she can feel a shakiness to her limbs that wasn't before. She could only run on so much adrenaline at a time, the lack of sleep and nutrients was rapidly catching up to her and it took more energy than she anticipated to push herself to her feet again. Ignoring the cold that seeps into her clothes it at least allows her to clear her head momentarily as her raging eyes turn back to the stranger. The lingering scent of vomit floats around them but even that is washed away by the ocean, Vhal's soaking boots still planted in the salty sea.

There is a brief moment of confusion as a voice floats into her mind, the words clearly accented which has the assassin snapping her head around in attempt to locate the voice. It takes her only a brief moment to realize it's the stranger, the witch's brows furrowing at the woman. Folding her arms over her chest she can't help but feel a touch of wariness to the stranger now. She didn't particularly care to have someone in her head and yet, Vhalla wasn't entirely sure she could just project her voice. Still, she was in no shape to question it, her mind still too foggy grasp the situation. Though it's the cold voice of the Russian that has Vhalla flinching, a wave of guilt overriding her current anger. She has no response to that, the assassin simply falling into a deeper hole of hatred of herself.

The assassin eventually responds to the woman, her voice lowering in volume as she coats her words with a heavy layer of sarcasm. Blue eyes drift to the stranger, watching as she takes a few steps forward and tilting her head towards her. Frowning again, she was certain the woman was deaf... or perhaps she wasn't one hundred percent deaf. Chewing on the inside of her cheek she can't help but snap a glare at the woman with her sassy retort. It's Vhal's turn to roll her eyes, her scarred fingers waving off the Russian. "Sure they do, I see it all the time," she responds with a sniff, though very childish on the assassin's part, she can't help it. Biting her tongue was never one of her strong suits.

Vhalla doesn't think as she turns her head away from the woman, mouthing a half hearted apology. As she turns her head back she can't help but immediately notice the annoyance that's oozing off the stranger. What the fuck? Frowning again, her own irritation flares. What did she do? She apologized didn't she? Still, the witch manages to push away her annoyance king enough to question her as wariness fills the assassin. The same question coming back to the forefront of her mind, could she see inside her head? There's a brief hesitation on the Russian's part, a note Vhalla tucks away in her foggy brain, habit from her line of work. Scrunching her face in response to the woman's statement as it is projected into her mind, she can't help the shiver that runs down her spine. It was creepy to have someone's voice in her head, the woman only thinking of how Ivan would use it to his advantage if he had such powers.

Rubbing at her arms, her blue gaze settles on the woman, more clear than it was when she had stumbled drunkenly down the beach. "Yeah, I guess it is a nifty trick," she answers, her voice rising in volume subconsciously to be heard. An uncomfortable silence falls between them as wariness entered Vhalla's gaze again, the weight of her gaze landing on the woman, "So... is that all you can do? Or can you read people's mind too?" She asks hesitantly, mentally trying to shove down all memories and thoughts at once. Though she's hardly successful. The assassin isn't entirely sure the woman will answer her. Shrugging the thought away, she gives her a moment to answer before unfolding her arms. "How did a Russian wind up here?" She asks suddenly as she watches the stranger in front of her. God, it was mind boggling how similar the two of them looked, Vhal's still drunken brain having a hard time processing it.

Vhalla Solarn

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