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+---- Thread: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife (/showthread.php?tid=9734)
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-06-2024
He isn’t in the mood for charm and small talk right now, which thankfully doesn’t need to happen with how happy the inn is to be visited by their Theocrat. The butcher is content to simply melt into the background, offering charming too sharp smiles and nods if directly referred to, which is thankfully not all that much. And before he knows it, rooms are secured, and he very nearly protests at the idea of sleeping alone when Danta’s slipping one of the keys into his pocket and guiding the butcher toward one singular room – the best room they have, that they have given the Maverick.
His shoulders slump with a bit of relief, nodding as he takes in the view of lightning strikes across the barren land they’d just left from – wondering if that speck of black he sees is where they had been standing when the lightning had struck the tree. But immediately forgoing it for raising the fire in the fireplace nice and toasty, before beginning to peel off the fine clothes that are most certainly not fine anymore. “[say]This is perfect, thank you, darling.[/say]” He says in the air of a relieved whisper – turning to Danta to offer a gentler smile when he notices the metal tub in the corner of the room and is immediately drawn to its side, whispering a soft "[say]oh thank Dygra's beautiful face[/say]", fiddling with the knobs to get very hot water pouring into it with the full intention of soaking his sore and bruised body.
A bruised body that still hasn’t quite been revealed yet, but as Astaroth starts to remove the layers, it becomes quite evident that it’s the reason he would not have been able to make it back to the Inner Quarter. His chest and back are bruised, with deep purple splotching all along his sides and a few superficial and already mostly healed scratches and bruising on his arms as he tosses the shirt into a pile and stiffly starts to work on getting out of the rest of his clothes.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-06-2024
[say]"Only the best for you. I know you're used to your mansions,"[/say] Danta teases, grinning and clicking the door shut behind them, making sure to lock it securely, by which time Asta is already bringing the fire higher. [say]"I've got it,"[/say] he assures the other man, rubbing his hands together and extending his magic towards the crackling flames. He isn't exhausted and in gods know what kind of a state, after all, and the fire responds to his energy and manipulation, popping and roaring its way to a very merry blaze.
[say]"Mm...? Oh,"[/say] he says, smirking over his shoulder to see the butcher all but go to worship the bathtub. It's only once he's content with the fireplace and turning to glance at the rest of the room properly that he zeroes in on the colourful patchwork of bruises that span Asta's upper body, the Maverick instantly seeming to ripple with shock and tension. [say]"Asta, what the fuck,"[/say] he hisses, immediately sweeping across the room to stand before the other man.
[say]"You never said it was this bad,"[/say] he scolds, swatting the butcher's hands away so he can deal with belt and buttons, reaching out to softly tilt Asta's chin up to meet his eyes. [say]"Who?"[/say] he wants to know.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-06-2024
“[say]Quite so.[/say]” Comes the soft huff of a laugh, a short one based off how much pain his ribs are causing. Releasing his own hold on the magic, he settles with fiddling with the knobs to get the hot water pouring in and shedding his shirt, blissfully unaware for the moment as he feels the steam and the heat of the fireplace encapsulate him like a cocoon of nothing but comfort.
And that’s when he hears Danta’s curse, too content with the warmth that’s already greeting his tired body that he looks over as the blonde rushes over to him, swatting away his hands. “[say]Wha-?[/say]” cut off by scolding, too, hands away from the rest of his lingering clothes to let Danta do all the work, feeling the warmth of the Maverick’s hand as he lifts his chin to meet his gaze. The butcher’s drain from their warmth and he works his jaw, completely wanting to avoid the subject in this moment, because there’s a large part of him that still feels awkward about the entire ordeal.
“[say]I—I don’t want to talk about it just yet.[/say]” Comes the gentle request, frozen hands lifting to cup the sides of the shorter Ancient’s cheeks. “[say]A lot happened. I am still trying to figure out where it all went wrong.[/say]” A large part of him thinks its his fault, now that he’s a bit more rational and could realize that he shouldn’t have ran into the brick wall that was Maea, over and over and over again. But the panicked, irrational part of his mind had hoped that it would have some success.
“[say]I want to clean up and soak and eat something and feel like myself again.[/say]” He offers a small smile to the Maverick, trying to alleviate the shock and tension despite knowing deep down that he would remain just as taught until the words spilled from his lips.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-06-2024
Biting his tongue and stopping just short of tasting blood, Danta schools himself against the automatic response that wants to spill from his lips. Instead, it's with his tail lashing irritably at his heels that he leans into the touch of Asta's hands, brow furrowed as he gives a nod, reluctant though it might be. [say]"Alright,"[/say] he mutters, letting his hand drop so he might be able to help him out of the rest of his clothes.
[say]"I'll... I'll deal with everything else, then,"[/say] he decides, pent up and feeling bile and fury burn at the back of his throat. Silently - not that it matters with his body language screaming the things words can't - Danta gathers the butcher's discarded clothes, leaving him to his bath while he goes to request that they are washed and pressed ready for the morning.
While he's gone, the Maverick also arranges their food and wine, bringing both back with him alongside a clean towel for Asta to use to dry himself off (not that they need it, as Ancients, but whatever). Maybe he's also gone outside and kicked down a bit of a crumbling wall, too, not that it has made him feel any better.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-06-2024
He knows and its with a glimmer of sorrow that sparks in the dark recesses of his gaze that he leans in to press his forehead to the Maverick’s at the acceptance of his answer and his touch, and its with a quiet sigh of relief that he would get everything else ready. Bruises spark along his hips but mercifully his legs are free from any damage – if not just the pain of walking for gods knew how long. “[say]Thank you.[/say]” He offers as he releases Danta, watching with a hint of worry as the blonde vanishes and he sighs as he looks to the bathtub.
Bringing the water to a halt and slipping in with a hiss of relief, he can actually think about what occurred, still feeling oily and sick from it despite the way his bruises feel ten times better. And with fire magic remaining in his veins, Astaroth is able to keep the water piping hot until Danta’s returned, having quite literally passed out for a few moments thanks to the soothing heat against his sore joints and bones.
The second the Maverick steps through the door again, Astaroth is already working to get out of the bath, already more limber than he had been before, collecting the towel and winding it around part of him while he dries off with the heat of the fire elsewhere – enough time for Danta to set the food and wine down, and gingerly steps over to settle on the edge of the bed, sinking into the furs and blankets and annoyingly tugging on Danta’s wrist to pull him in for a proper embrace, even if he’s in the middle of trying to pour wine or offer some of the food to a quite loud and rumbling stomach from the butcher. "[say]I'm sorry.[/say]" He starts off by saying.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-06-2024
He doesn't know why it's so hard to look at Asta as he returns to the room, but it's such that Danta doesn't even realise the butcher has gotten so close until the other man's fingers catch his wrist, spilling a little of the wine he's been trying to pour. It's with an instinctive objection on his tongue that he's forced to put both glass and bottle down onto the table, only to find himself drawn into an embrace he's thoroughly not expecting.
Still standing, for the first time in their recent history, Danta doesn't know where or how to touch the other man. Everywhere he looks seems streaked in dark bruises, and without wanting to cause more pain, all he can do is rest a feather-light hand on one shoulder, the other smoothing down the back of his neck. [say]"What for? You didn't do anything wrong,"[/say] he mumbles with a shrug of his shoulders.
Or did you? He almost asks it, but given that Asta has made it clear he's not ready to talk about it, it seems pointless to pry.
[say]"What do you need?"[/say] he finds himself saying, because gods if this doesn't feel suddenly like an awkward meeting between strangers.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-06-2024
“[say]For not telling you.[/say]” He isn’t blind. He can see the tension as clear as day in the otherwise carefree, relaxed state the other Ancient always seems to remain in. This time, it’s different, and subconsciously the butcher is trying to align this version of Danta with the one he’d known from the Climb, spying the bits and pieces that align amongst a variety of others that don’t. Others that don’t align with anything that Astaroth has seen from Danta, and it leaves the oblivious man far more confused than he already is, and so he noses his way in and presses his forehead to Danta’s chest, exhaling a hot breath there as if it harbors all the anxieties swimming within him.
The memory sparks more annoyance, more upset, and Astaroth doesn’t know how to deal with the ash on his tongue other than to try and talk it out. “[say]Just you.[/say]” And obviously everything else Danta’s brought. But there isn’t anything else he needs, because stubbornly the only time he’s felt comfortable since the incident is right here, each time he’s been in the other man’s embrace.
“[say]I was helping to clean up after LongNight in Jack Tar, like I had told you I intended to do.[/say]” He starts to say, pausing because he knows the second he name drops her Danta’s fury might have a pinpoint. So his arms tighten around the other man’s middle, keeping him pressed against him in case he chooses to simply storm off. “[say]Maea came across me as she was... leaving, I believe? And wished to talk about what happened. And so I agreed. And at first, she apologized for making the comparison between me and that man, then claimed she wished to have some compromise between what we do so it isn’t done within the confines of the Inner Quarter. But she had another idea, that like Halo they could be sent to exile. Only her version was in the Climb through the portal because that was far enough away and within the wilds.[/say]” His voice feels a bit rushed and perhaps he’s a bit lightheaded from lack of food and proper sleep, but he perseveres. “[say]Evidently she did not realize what had happened… To me, there. I got upset, telling her that while she’d just apologized to me for misunderstanding the comparison that she would have me do the same thing to them that was done to me. And then I started to panic. She did not know the details and I began to... To divulge them. Which made me panic worse.[/say]” It ends on a hiss, pissed off at losing control and being unable to do anything about it.
But Danta had seen how he gets like that. He'd seen just how much he loses his mind and just won't shut up. Only this time he didn't have the Maverick there to quiet him. "[say]She said she didn't know and apologized and I... Ran.[/say]" Because what else was there for him to do other than get out of the situation?
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-06-2024
[say]"You're allowed not to tell people things,"[/say] Danta points out dryly, even if the sullen set of his shoulders gives away that he's absolutely saying the words for the sake of it. (And people, in this case, of course means him). Either way, it's still new territory for the Maverick to walk, and Asta is right in being able to see the throwback parts of Danta that he can spot from the Climb; the restless energy, the tight agitation in his jaw and shoulders with nowhere to go until it's given a direction.
One that the butcher is rightly wary of giving, and it's only as the other man presses in closer that the Maverick releases the breath he's been holding, forcing his arms to slip around Asta more naturally, though he's still overly careful of the marks that paint his skin in hues of blue and purple. [say]"Okay,"[/say] he mumbles, barely able to think of the implications of such a phrase - just you - before the butcher does start to explain.
And gods, as soon as Maea's name hits the air the Maverick's suspicions are already raised, his brow furrowed and his fingers automatically clasping Asta closer, despite the care he's been trying to take. As the story tumbles out he does wince on the butcher's behalf, too, fingers slipping through the back of his damp hair, eyes dark. [say]"Fuck,"[/say] he whispers. [say]"I mean, it's fine. I'm glad you got out of there - you did what you had to do."[/say] The gods know Danta has run plenty of times in his life.
Only that does not at all appear to be the whole story, and to say that there's a dangerous slant to the way Danta's fingers caress the back of Asta's neck is an understatement. [say]"That still doesn't explain why you are covered in bruises,"[/say] he whispers, his tone almost sweet, as if begging for the context.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-06-2024
Hands gentle on his shoulders to avoid the bruising over scars, Astaroth hides the wince in favor for the comfort it gives as Danta pulls him closer. His own arms tighten against bruises, his head adjusting against where he’s pressed it in hard to the Maverick’s sternum, letting the soothing feeling of the blonde’s fingers overcome everything else Asta feels oily about inside.
The sweetness of the tone is also familiar, like their promises in the Climb from before of showing each other what a true fight looked like. A dangerous hint that has him silent for a few moments longer. “[say]She followed me.[/say]” And here, he brushes over the important things, the notable things. Of how he’d lost control to the fyrhund in his panic, of how the fyrhund had chosen to fight to get her to leave when she simply continued to be that judgemental statue until his body was too tired to continue. He leaves out the fact that he stopped because the bruises were too much to bear and the rawness of his throat had him coughing up blood.
“[say]After all of that, she told me that I was an easy target to place her fear and her angst onto, then asked me if I could keep her in check if she went down the wrong path.[/say]” Asked him to do that for her, after all of this. And gods as the words spew from his lips he feels oily and wrong and awful, like a snitch constantly going to the regional leader with problems he should be able to solve himself.
It’s just another reminder that he’s become so fucking weak.
It burns in the back of his throat, and is evident in how his fingers twist into Danta’s shirt tightly as if betraying his thoughts when he continues. “[say]I told her that I wanted to kill her. She bloodbooned me and said ‘go ahead’, and I just.. I just left.[/say]” Anticlimactic where he’d ended up running himself into a brick wall over and over again in the midst of his panic attack, resulting in precisely this dreadful and sorry state.
And while he doesn’t kick himself physically for it, mentally he certainly does.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-07-2024
Just say it's a bear, Danta almost wills the other man. Say it's a bear, or an elk, or some other void-fucked creature out on the bridges. But no, of course that isn't the case, and as Asta's words - she followed me - drip from his lips, gods damn it but the Maverick almost wants to scream in frustration. It's a miracle that his hands stay as gentle as they do on the butcher's abused skin as Asta explains in full (at least, Danta thinks it's a full explanation, and what he doesn't know won't hurt him or anyone else).
And in fairness, it feels like a standard fight, albeit one that should never have happened, until they reach the crux of the issue. [say]"She what?"[/say] He scowls, his fingers dancing up to slip through the other man's dark hair, to carefully tilt his head up until he can look at him properly. For a moment the Maverick is stock still but for the agitated lashing of his tail, like a porcelain statue set to shatter at any moment.
In years past, gods but he'd have relished breaking away from the comfort of this room and throwing himself on the wing to hunt. It had been the closest thing to freedom for Danta, a man constantly bound and put to heel; and with that freedom came the sating of his bloodlust, came an end to his hunger and a brief wave of peace in a life fraught with pain and uncertainty.
But fuck, it isn't his fight.
Letting out a long breath he hasn't realised he's been holding, it's with uncharacteristic restraint that he speaks, a thumb grazing across Asta's cheek. [say]"Is there anything you want me to do about this?"[/say] he asks. Say the word. [say]"Anything you need?"[/say]
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-07-2024
If only it were a bear or an elk or a void creature, he might feel less bad about all of it. There’d be less of the sorrow and angst, more anger and ruthlessness. But no, as he explains and he feels the tension thrumming through the Maverick, Astaroth feels all the more slimy for it. It doesn’t stop him from not looking up at him when guided by gentle fingers, chin tilted up until his dark gaze lands on a murderously calm face and a certain kind of cold that isn’t temperature related.
A more rational part of Astaroth can understand why and can perhaps pick it apart later — the similarities between this exchange and the one the blonde knew all too well with Morax, and it sparks the muscles of his jaw to feather as he murmurs a muffled “[say]mhm, yeah.[/say]” His fingers tighten again in the back of Danta’s shirt before they widen and open up, warm palms spreading across the other man’s spine as he subconsciously takes apart his own feelings and focuses wholly on the blonde’s own.
He doesn’t expect the relief that floods through him to hear the long breath, to feel that Danta isn’t just going to leave him alone to enact vengeance on his end. A shuddering blink betrays him as the other Ancient’s thumb grazes his cheek, his emotions so at odds with one another that one of his hands slips around in front of him, snaking up to cup Danta’s jaw in turn, offering him a small, sharp toothed smile in an attempt to reassure him (but it’s a look that Danta would see right through immediately).
Luckily, Astaroth already knows this, so when he shakes his head it’s with an explanation on the tip of it. “[say]Not right now.[/say]” In terms of Danta doing anything about it. “[say]I still feel.. terrible about all of it. I feel even worse that I have to run to you to fight my battles.[/say]” The smile fades to a tight line as he exhales a sigh, closing his eyes and tilting his head into the blonde’s hand while his own curls into the hair at the nape of Danta’s neck.
“[say]The only thing I want is to enjoy the meal and the wine.[/say]” Pretend like everything is normal, like his body isn’t just a walking kaleidoscope of bruises. And selfishly, “[say]and I want you to stay…[/say]” He pauses briefly to take a slow and short breath. “[say]Stay with me[/say]” Hold me.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-07-2024
Not right now isn't the same as never at all, and although Danta is still scowling and trying to parse through all he's heard and all the things he'd very much like to do about it, he does lean into the warm hand that clasps his jaw. [say]"You aren't running to me to fight your battles,"[/say] he objects, head turning and the words almost muttered against the soft skin at the inside of Asta's wrist. What exactly the butcher is running to him for isn't something he has the words to describe right now (or perhaps ever), but to fight for him doesn't seem like the other man at all.
[say]"Alright,"[/say] he says eventually, the agreement slow, and Danta steps in closer and clasps the other man against him as best he can given his injures. [say]"I can do that. But I do need to go just one more time. I'll only be a few minutes though, I swear."[/say] He doesn't pull away for a long few seconds, at least, and when he does he replaces the warmth of his body with the glass of wine he'd poured for the butcher. [say]"Drink. Eat. I won't be long."[/say]
Providing Asta doesn't reach out to physically stop him, the Maverick will take his leave again, clicking the door shut behind him. He's true to his word as well, returning perhaps ten minutes later, and when he does it's with a draught of strong pain medicine that will at least allow Asta to pass out when he feels like it.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-07-2024
Whether or not it’s true is beside the point. He feels as though he is still running to Danta to fix a problem he should be – should have -- been able to solve on his own. The previous ones, sure, where Danta had spoken to Maea after their previous argument. This time, though, it felt different. And not only because his pride was wounded, but his body was too.
Truth be told, he’s too tired to argue this point right now, too, so he nods instead and heaves a soft sigh of acceptance even if each and every sore bone within him rages against the fact.
The eventual alright is heard and the agreement met – but an irrational part of the butcher doesn’t fully believe the fact that Danta isn’t going to just vanish and take out his rage somewhere despite the gentleness in which he embraces him and pulls him close, handing him the bottle of wine in lieu of the blonde’s body, and already a lump forms in his throat as his hand tightens around the glass of wine, dark eyes blinking wordlessly before he inclines his horned head. “[say]Okay.[/say]” Comes the quiet and tired answer once he’s swallowed around the lump in his throat.
He does not stop Danta, and he does count down the minutes silently as he sips from the glass of wine. He counts down the three minutes he’d suggested, and after that? Well, the Butcher replaces the glass of wine with the bottle, downing a good portion of it before setting it back on the table beside the bed, stealing one piece of food from the tray to devour to quell the rumbling of his stomach.
And by the time Danta’s returned, the butcher is quite drunk, settled on the bench by the large window overlooking Levinsward, watching the lightning strikes (and silently waiting to see a gore crow fly off into the distance), that when the door opens his head whips over toward it, spotting the familiar Ancient and the diamond horns, and relief burns through his shoulders as he exhales a sigh of relief. “[say]You swore it was going to take you… three minutes… It was eleven.[/say]” (The counting isn’t accurate because the drunker he got, the faster he counted the seconds).
He tries to peel himself from the bench to stand, each movement pulling hard on bruised muscles and shortened breaths.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-07-2024
[say]"I said a few minutes,"[/say] Danta objects, having glanced worriedly around the room when the butcher isn't immediately at his place on the edge of the bed. Clicking the door shut and locking it again behind him, he deposits the medicine on the bedside table and sweeps across the room to Asta, snagging one of the blankets as he goes. [say]"And I was ten, actually,"[/say] he insists, drawing the blanket around the other man's shoulders and ushering him to sit back at the window bench.
Sidling in to sit behind him, Danta settles against the curve of the wall and furrows his brow. [say]"Did you even eat anything?"[/say] he wants to know; he can only see the considerable amount of wine that has disappeared from the bottle in the short space of time, and he assumes the answer is no. Either way, it's with a long sigh that he ushers the butcher back against his chest so they might both watch the lightning for a while and simply be, giving each of them time to absorb what has happened.
(And what Danta may or may not be imagining he's doing in response, since he can't spring literally into action).