so give me .s o m e t h i n g. to |believe| [OPEN]

The girl walks out of her hiding spot, though you'd never say she hides, maybe just her spot then. Her top looks too clean and bright white to have properly camouflaged her from view, her pants, while more suited for a hunter of district nine appear no less immaculate. Her arrow is already loaded and aimed for the intruders heart.

Maybe the tree had been her target, maybe it had been the stranger. You'd never really be able to make a good guess, though you're instincts would tell you the girl had aimed to kill. Then again that same irrational feeling would tell you she doesn't miss.

Thistle stared at the stranger and bow still raised, she could have easily been practicing but everything about her says she's ready for trouble. Perhaps she intended to lead the girl here. Without even knowing her it seems like something she would do. When she opens her mouth and speaks it doesn't lessen this assumption.

"Toss the knife girl, you won't get to me before I shoot" her voice is soft, no more then a whisper and the way she says it it's almost like she means toss te knife at her.

She doesn't shoot, she just keeps her arrow locked allowing the girl to make the first move. Maybe. The slight smile and cold look in her eyes say that she's enjoying this moment, maybe she just intends to stretch it further. Then again the same look suggests she'd enjoy the next part much more.

"Go on then" she says with a tilt of her head "or let's see you run if that's what you prefer"

Her eyes stay locked on the girl's, her prey, reading them for the first indicators of the choice she'll make. Or looking for emotions, like fear, panic, or even anger the kind of things that make her smile.

Seconds tic by, and the two girls stare at each other waiting to see who'll make the first move. After what seems like half a minute a partial smile from Thistle breaks the tension. She lowers her bow and kneels down with an Eery grace to pick up the arrow at her feet. She doesn't bother to pay any attention the the girl, to see if she'll take the opportunity to attack now that Thistle's guard is down. As if she's already judged the girls character and assumes she won't attack, or just doesn't care.

Then again her guard isn't down, from her posture you can tell she's still ready for a fight, watching the girl with her other senses as carefully as she had been with her eyes a moment ago.

In another quick and graceful motion she's stood up flipped some stray hair from her eyes and returned her bow to her shoulder and her arrows to her quiver. She faces the girl unarmed this time, somehow seeming more threatening for it.

"I like you." she says bluntly "you don't act like prey, it's refreshing, tell me your name."

It's not a question but a demand, then again it doesn't seem as if Thistle would be capable of making a proper introduction.

The slight crooked grin on Thistles face grows with the girls words. Many people can be said capable of lighting up a room when they smile; well if there was an opposite to that Thistle achieved it. With the same eery quality that she pulls her whole life through she examines the girl. Then when she seems to come to some kind of conclusion she moves.

She turns from the girl, with as much effort as she's put into every motion so far; that is to say none. Treading soundlessly back the way she came she returns the bow to her hands. Her retreating words are only barley audible.

"Have it your way then, little dear"

She stops as soon as she's out of sight, all evidence points to her waiting to see if the girl will follow. Though she seems completely uninterested in her now, after all if facing her unarmed was trusting turning her back on her was something else entirely. A few silent moments go by then her voice appears again.

"It's not by the way" she says.