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

Vhalla had altogether forgotten that Lazarus was still asleep on that couch, the moment those keys touched her fingers she threw herself into the music. Her slender frame swaying to the notes, her eyes fluttering close as she breathes it in, as she simply became. She plays for a time, even as that sunlight filters through the window and dances upon her pale skin, warming her, her waves of stark white hair billowing out around her shoulders and that small yet genuine smile toys on her luscious lips. She was content perhaps even happy in that moment. Vhalla having not felt at peace in a long time. Those song lyrics threaten to burst from her throat but she refrains, it had been almost a year since she sat here and played, allowing her musically enhanced voice to accompany the piano. Perhaps another time. The assassin plays for who knows how long, the notes rising and falling, gaining speed until it reached that climax and shattered around her. It was a song that could bring, even the most unfeeling of man, to tears.

She's almost played the song to completion until his tired tenor tones fill the air, startling the woman and her hand slips and clangs on those keys, making a god awful sound. Cringing at it, she swivels on the bench enough to cast a look over shoulder, her eyes immediately traveling to his bare chest, rather enjoying the view she was given, though her icy blue eyes linger on that burn she had given him all those weeks ago. How things have changed. Allowing her blue eyes to travel to his forest gaze, she lets a lazy smile so adorn her lips, giving a nonchalant shrug, "Well, I suppose when you're used to waking up with a woman, who's name you don't know, in your bed or the sight of all the empty bottles every morning, it would be quite a change," she tilts her head, her eyes narrowing in playfulness, hardly holding any animosity towards the man. Though, the first statement leaves a sick feeling in her stomach, she had hardly forgotten that mark left on the man's chest from that night he had out. Why she burned with so much jealousy was beyond her, but now... now it was absent as she regards the barely clothed man lounging on her couch.

His next statement brings a roguish smile to her lips, her brows arching so very delicately, "You didn't," she states simply, "But this is my house and I get to wear whatever I want," she says airily as she tries to hide that grin that threatens to split her face. "So as far as I'm concerned your shirt belongs to me now," she gestures with her hand to the material before pushing herself to a standing position and slowly moving towards the kitchen as she affords the man with a very nice view of her backside, "If you want it, you're going to have to come get it," she tosses a look over her shoulder, a wicked smile adorning her features as her eyes narrow in challenge. Perhaps she shouldn't egg the man on, perhaps she shouldn't have worn his shirt, perhaps she shouldn't have slept with him. There were a multitude of things that the woman shouldn't have done but she did them anyways and these were the consequences. Not all of them being necessarily bad, but there was no good way this... whatever this was, would end. Either he would be dead and thrown in a dumpster by Ivan or Vhalla would suffer the consequences. For now, she didn't want to think about it.

Waltzing into the kitchen, she rummages through those cabinets searching for that damn coffee pot she knew she had stored away for a day she might actually be home in the morning. She has to reach in the top cabinets as the woman stands on her tip toes, her hands stretched over her head as that shirt lifts to reveal her lower backside and her toned butt. So, what? Vhalla knew what she was doing, she merely wanted to see how far that self control of his lasted, her body already heating at the thought of his half naked frame. After a few moments of struggling, she snatches that coffee pot and brings it down, plugging it in and quickly starting the coffee, "I hope you like coffee," she calls back at him though she hardly affords him a glance, her voice casual as if she hadn't been showing him her ass. It doesn't take long before the scent of coffee so drifts through the apartment, her frame turning to face him once more as she leans against that counter, her hands resting behind her, "You drool in your sleep," she lies easily, her brows arched in wicked amusement, "You also snore too, I didn't know you could sleep that soundly."

Vhalla Solarn

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