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+---- Thread: the way we work is masochistic (/showthread.php?tid=10889)
the way we work is masochistic - Astaroth - 03-14-2025
It’s the one space he hasn’t come back to, despite having come close each time he’d visited the Crust. It was a space even he hadn’t mentioned to Danta much, either. He knew what happened, he didn’t need to know the exact place.
At least until now.
His steps had been so assured, proud and quick and easy as they passed through the portal to the Climb. But as they approach, even though the idle chatter is smooth and easy, the butcher’s steps slow more and more. He’s putting on a brave face, of course, but it isn’t without its flaws. “[say]So, perhaps once it gets under way.. We will need to sleep in shifts?[/say]” Comes the suggestion after he’s filled Danta in about the quest and what it was for, and how the Maverick had insisted on coming with, in spite of his denials with the lovely thought to bring a tent. Not that it would do much, he assumes, given his memories here.
But Danta at his core was a gore crow, so perhaps it was something inherent that he didn’t know about.
His steps slow a touch more as they reach a relatively flat space, one with a Y cut through it for the river of lava that bisects the jut of the lava ridge. And despite the centuries of how the lava has cut through it, the butcher knows this place anywhere. He sees it almost every night in his nightmares.
It’s a surprisingly stoic, quiet butcher that guides Danta up the smooth slope of the side of the jut, to be surrounded by larger broken pieces of volcanic rock, complete with all the hidey holes that the gore crows preferred. And much to his surprise, he finds a half melted and bent post poking out of the ground, the only remnant of the time long before. Long past any point of usefulness, the butcher steps up by it, kneeling with a frown before he reaches out to brush a finger along the crumbling, rusted spike.
“[say]Well…[/say]” He trails off quietly, frowning and glaring at the spike left behind, before he lifts his horned head, immediately toward the silent rocks, not trusting it in the slightest. “[say]We are here.[/say]” He trails off, sighing as his tail curls around the knee pressed against the hot rock, baked by the fading sun over the horizon.
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Dantalion - 03-15-2025
Danta hasn't brought a tent, if only because he imagines their lady Dygra is serious about the out in the open part of the requirement. He has brought a lot of other things, though, jangling away in the pack he's slung over his shoulders as he follows Asta deep into Angel's End. [say]"I hate to say it, but you may very well be right."[/say] He sighs. Sleeping in shifts, most likely apart, sounds like a bad time for however long it takes to complete this quest.
But for Asta, he'll do anything and then some, and it's with a brief smile to the butcher that he joins him in climbing the slope. The Maverick, of course, has roamed all over the Climb, but no one can see every single inch of a region, and he certainly doesn't recognise this particular space, however significant it might be for the man at his side. The rusted, warped looking spike is a surprise - a very unwelcome one, in fact, as Danta realises where it's from, and he winces and sets his pack down as he moves to Asta's side.
[say]"And tomorrow, we'll be gone,"[/say] he reminds him gently, reaching out to brush soft and careful fingers over his shoulder. [say]"Before we do anything further, you wouldn't mind indulging me for a second by closing your eyes and covering your ears? Tightly, if you can. I'll let you know when it's safe."[/say]
Providing the butcher has no issue in following his instructions, Danta takes a deep breath and steps away a few feet, before his shape warps into something small and black and feathered. There are plenty of gore crows out here already - he's recognised the signs of them, and their little hidey holes - and it might not help much, but if the Maverick can establish a degree of not-to-be-fucked-with in a language he thinks they'll understand, all the better.
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Astaroth - 03-15-2025
(
The pack is a thoughtful addition, one that would make this less difficult to stomach. That and the fact he isn’t tied down and has magic now also bolsters the idea that it was just one night, that he could manage it, that it wouldn’t be for multiple days on end of agonizing torture.
That he could do something about it if it came down to it.
“[say]It will be worth it when it is over.[/say]” Comes the steadfast admission, like he’s positive that by doing this and receiving that charm, that he’d be a different man. At least, one that wouldn’t take out a chunk of his lovers arm for trying to be nice and help him through his nightmares.
Anyway, he’s too busy glaring at the spike and the rocks that harbor so much of his prior traumas that the butcher hardly hears Danta’s question when the Maverick arrives at his side. He nods numbly as the previous statement reaches his ears belatedly, before he flinches such a miniscule amount to feel Danta’s fingers, before relaxing almost immediately. “[say]Sure.[/say]” Already his stomach warps and twists with the realization of where they are, but with a glance and a smile that does not reach his dark gaze, the butcher curves a touch inward toward himself and closes his eyes tightly and blocks his ears.
As Danta steps away and molds himself into his new shape, it brings the attention of the gore crows hidden away. He’d also find that being in the gore crow shift gives him quite the advantage to seeing just where the rest of the flock congregate. Within those hidey holes, dark heads with red beaded eyes lift, glancing at the butcher first before landing on Danta, confusion flaring briefly in the croaks and the underlying rhythm of meat! that reverberates through the flock.
And as one bold gore crow hops up and croaks its own warning to Danta, a much smaller fledgling joins the group, peering at the two Ancients. As it turns out, the space the butcher had meant to die, still was quite a vast nesting ground for this particular flock of gore crows. And they aren’t too pleased with having a gore crow they don’t know among them.
But, it does make sense for the added bit of aggression from the corvids, even centuries ago.
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Dantalion - 03-17-2025
Danta doesn't wait for any further warning croaks before his wings spread and he caws out his own challenge, feathers ruffled and ready for a fight. It's one the murder of settled gore crows is happy to provide, of course - Danta has counted on it, in fact. As fledglings and fully grown corvids start to amass around him, some swooping at his little form, others trying to peck at his flight feathers, the Maverick waits for them to get uncomfortably close - close enough to draw blood on him, certainly - before exchanging one shift for another.
And a lyvern is a good deal larger and more difficult to attack than a gore crow, Danta's maw parting to let out a shrieking roar that has them scattering to the skies. He snaps after them, prowling around the top of the ridge a few times to make sure they're well aware of his presence, before finally returning to his usually charming self. Clearing his throat and brushing off his clothes, he's wiping a thin stream of blood from his cheek as he moves to kneel in front of Asta, reaching with his free hand to touch the butcher's knee.
[say]"Alright. I think I've made my point now,"[/say] he says softly, smiling to the other man.
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Astaroth - 03-17-2025
As man becomes corvid, the gore crows that call this home immediately go on the defensive — aiming to dive toward the avian in swoops near enough to the butcher that he can feel the burst of wind that has him curve more into himself, ashen tail whipping like a cats as he forces himself to remain exactly where Danta has him. It takes a lot but he manages it while the Maverick distracts the corvids closer, only to shift into a much larger form that has them scrambling.
The roar is one that makes the butcher flinch, despite trying desperately not to. It reverberates, echoing through this portion of Angel’s End enough that even more crows appear and vanish from the area, spooked with the rest of the flock.
It doesn’t take much time, but before long the area is even more empty, though it doesn’t seem like it. It’s when the butcher feels the pressure of Danta’s hand on his leg that he twitches, tail flicking before he lowers the hands covering his ears, hearing his lover’s voice as the boon he uses to slowly open his eyes. He focuses on Danta first, blinking over at him with such a raw expression that it takes him a few moments to come out of it. “[say]Are they gone?[/say]” He asks, though something in his tone trusts that Danta has ensured that. So much so that before he has a moment to answer, the butcher continues. “[say]Thank you, love.[/say]” He tacks on, letting the tension in his shoulders alleviate ever so slightly, obviously already frazzled by the location.
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Dantalion - 03-18-2025
[say]"They are,"[/say] Danta confirms softly, licking the blood from his finger and giving his most reassuring smile to the butcher. For now is what he doesn't say, knowing better than to add to the stress and worry already filling Asta to the brim. [say]"Any time,"[/say] he adds, leaning in to brush his lips across the other man's forehead, before he's straightening up again.
[say]"Alright. Let's make this place look absolutely nothing like it did the last time you were here, yes?"[/say] Reaching for the pack - and ensuring that there's a bloom of flame nearby to act like a campfire - Danta begins to take things out. A couple of bedrolls, a tightly folded fur, and a very large bottle of liquor for a start.
[say]"Would you like to get rid of that thing, since we're out here?"[/say] he asks, nodding to the warped and rusted spike still in the ground.
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Astaroth - 03-18-2025
He remains there as Danta leans in, the scent of blood amongst the mix as his lovers warm lips press against his forehead. His eyes close momentarily before he opens them and focuses on the Maverick’s face in lieu of the area around. There is some amount of relief in the tension already weighing on his shoulders, the butcher spotting the small cut for the first time.
But before he can sluggishly reach up to caress the other man’s jaw, Danta’s moving to grab the pack, withdrawing the bedrolls and a multitude of other elements to try and make it more inviting than his memories were making it. He wants to be strong in this moment, but he stares at the spike in the ground numbly, letting Danta set things up.
The question reaches him belatedly and his tail flicks slightly, bringing him back to life rather than the tense statue he’s becoming. “[say]Yes.[/say]” He reaches out, fingertips brushing against the rusted spike, before he latches onto it and yanks. The spike doesn’t come out the first time, and he reaches out with his other hand, fighting with this spike for a brief moment before the piece comes out. He sinks back onto his heels with the spike in his hands, glaring down at it before fire burns white in his palms as he begins to melt it down. “[say]There were two of them.[/say]” He murmurs as the metal begins to melt down.
At least it seems like the other spike is gone.
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Dantalion - 03-18-2025
Smiling over his shoulder as Asta agrees, Danta is about to rise to his feet and suggest they knock or snap the spike and yeet it across Angel's End when the other man is physically yanking it out of the rockery - not that he can blame him one bit. Wincing, but only briefly, to see the effort it takes (and schooling himself not to make a remark about Asta's bad shoulder), the Maverick instead waits until white hot flame is melting the metal away before he approaches.
[say]"And now there are none of them,"[/say] he says softly, kneeling down to coax Asta back against him, curling one arm around his waist while the other offers out the now-open bottle of liquor. [say]"Whatever happened out here didn't happen to Astaroth,"[/say] he reminds him, drawing up his glamour so he might nuzzle against the other man's dark hair. [say]"Think of it as paying your respects to the older version of you. And leave anything else that might happen to me."[/say]
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Astaroth - 03-18-2025
The metal pools not unlike the lava nearby, cooling on the surface. And once he’s satisfied with it, he ensures his hands are clean before he hums a note of agreement that there were none of them now. And while it had been a lot on an already injured shoulder, Flora’s healing had helped nicely to keep it from growing too sore too quickly.
Not that he thinks he’d register the pain right now, anyway.
The warmth of Danta’s body and the coaxing, has him sinking back into the other man easily. It’s still stiff, but it’s leagues better than he was on his own. His tail winds around Danta’s leg, the ashen spaded edge pressing flat against his calf. He hears his words, lets them register, and he nods slightly — pointedly keeping each and every ounce of his Ancientness on full display.
Anything to be further away from Ferox, the better. He takes the open bottle of liquor, taking an immediate sip as he feels Danta nuzzle in. “[say]Unfortunately, I feel more like Ferox now than Astaroth.[/say]” Comes the honest answer, devoid of any pleasantries he typically placed into his vocabulary, his accent thicker as he goes to take another sip of the liquor.
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Dantalion - 03-18-2025
[say]"Whoever you feel like, whoever you need to be, I'll still sit with you tonight,"[/say] Danta says simply, trailing a few further kisses against the side of Asta's neck and against his jaw, surrendering the liquor bottle without protest. [say]"We can even just stay like this until the sun rises again if you want."[/say] It's only just dipping down behind the ridges and lava pools, painting an already hazy sky in shades of gold and amber hued with the growing smudge of night.
The stars will probably be brilliant against the ghoulish shine of lava, not that he imagines Asta will be in much of a state to enjoy it, Danta shifting to get more comfortable on the stone so his lover can more easily lean back against him, shielding his back and shoulders from the open air. [say]"If not, though, I did bring marshmallows. And some meat to roast on the fire."[/say] Smiling, he tilts his head against Asta's and falls quiet to hear the - blessedly - quiet whisper of the surrounding canyon.
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Astaroth - 03-18-2025
Being here sparks all kinds of self-deprecating thoughts for the butcher, most notably the one that pings against his mind of he’s too good for me, intermixed with the flickered memories of the horrors this space provided. It’s appreciated immensely, especially as he feels Danta’s lips press against his neck and jaw, the careful placement of him at his back to prevent him from feeling so exposed. Just another point left into the bank of just how much Danta cared, that he’d thought about it enough to realize that would help him feel more comfortable.
So he sips from the bottle, leans into the lips pressed against him, like he can blot out everything else if he just focused on how much the Maverick loved him – even for all of his faults and flaws.
He thinks about staying up all night, but even he knows that the stress of all of this is enough to drive him insane, to make him feel quite exhausted emotionally. It would be one of those jagged times of falling asleep, of the constant panic of waking himself up if only to ensure that he wasn’t chained down. And eventually, his body would give up the fight of exhaustion.
For now, though, he’s horribly awake and slightly drunk, leaning back into his lover’s embrace, pressing his bearded cheek against Danta’s own as he casts a glance toward the fire, utilizing it as yet another point of everything being different this time. The heat didn’t bother him, the sun baked volcanic rock didn’t burn him, and the fire nearby wasn’t sweltering and horrible. All points to prove it was that much more different.
Twisting a touch in Danta’s embrace, his forehead presses in against the sharp jawbone of the Maverick, a surprisingly small and tender gesture as the silence of the canyon seems to relax him some. “[say]That sounds great.[/say]” He murmurs, handing the bottle to Danta as he focuses on the man holding him rather than the familiarity with this space. “[say]Did you bring sticks for the marshmallows?[/say]” He asks, the feeling of his eyes closing like a gentle brush of wings against Danta’s jawbone.
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Dantalion - 03-19-2025
Smiling crookedly to feel Asta turn against him, Danta would have been content to sit in silence for as long as the other man wished; it might have been his first time in this particular place, but he's no stranger to the trauma certain spaces can hold, and a lot of the Climb holds a similar feeling in his mind. Sometimes sitting with the similarities and differences is a necessary evil, and only when the butcher speaks does the Maverick follow his lead.
[say]"Of course I did. I didn't think you'd appreciate the mess of holding them with your fingers."[/say] Grinning, he holds onto Asta for a few moments longer before finally peeling himself away, though he doesn't go far, and the fire flares higher to keep the ridge around them illuminated for any dark, winged shapes. Grabbing marshmallows - and sticks, yes - from his pack, he spends a few moments unfurling their bedrolls before sitting down upon one beside the fire, patting the space next to him.
[say]"C'mon. If nothing else, we'll have a different story to tell about this place by the time the night is through."[/say]
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Astaroth - 03-19-2025
“[say]I think that would make it worse.[/say]” He murmurs, as if latching on the idea that there was something out there that could make it worse than being here already was. And despite the fact that he was already on the miserable side, having sticky fingers would certainly make it more unbearable. So he leans into Danta’s touch a bit longer, before he feels the Maverick start to move, and he shifts a little where he sits to make it easier for Danta to reach for the sticks and do whatever else he needs to do.
The butcher watches the fire instead of the surrounding area, seeing the flames dance and leave little spots within his vision that only add to the ability to blot it out temporarily. At least, until he hears the patting of something decidedly softer than the hard stone of the lava rock they were previously sitting on. His dark gaze flits toward him briefly, before he’s moving to sit beside him, leaning into the blonde’s side for as much comfort as it brings support.
Snagging the stick and a marshmallow, the butcher pierces the marshmallow with a touch too much force but is at least satisfied with the placement before he sets it off to the side of the flame, close enough to begin to bubble the side of it closest, keeping an eye on it to twist it around so each side could char evenly.
He’s strangely silent in the face of the bolstering responses Danta offers, leaving some of them open ended and unanswered. And while he knows his lover enough to know he doesn’t care, there’s a part that nags at him enough that he draws one long leg up, tucking it up against his chest as he wraps an arm around his leg. “[say]I’m sorry.[/say]” He says quietly, though for what it’s hard to guess.
He's sorry for not being able to compartmentalize it? He’s sorry for dragging Danta out on this trip only for it to be boring and for him to do most of the work to ward away the crows?
He’s sorry for the scar on the Maverick's arm that he keeps hidden with a slip of silk?
RE: the way we work is masochistic - Dantalion - 03-20-2025
Asta is right and Danta doesn't care, busying himself in the fresh wave of silence that falls over them to skewer his own marshmallow with a stick. Plunging it directly into the flames so it chars very thoroughly indeed rather than turning nicely golden as is the custom (he's never done it before OK), he withdraws it again fully aflame, needing to blow it out before putting it directly in his mouth.
Which means, yes, that it's another few more moments before he can speak again, by which time his lover has curled back in on himself, airing an apology he considers entirely unnecessary. [say]"Tonight will be over before you know it,"[/say] he whispers, leaning in to deliver a kiss injected with sweetness to Asta's lips. [say]"And then we can go home and you can feel like yourself again. For now, though, it's about whatever gets you through it. Okay?"[/say]
Kissing him again before drawing back, Danta reaches for the bottle of liquor to take a pull from it himself, then offers it back towards the other man. [say]"Once the sun sets properly, we can just lay down and wait it out if you like."[/say] Hells, Asta might even sleep and the time will pass quicker.