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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 - 07-07-2024
“[say]S’close enough.[/say]” The butcher slurs lightly, pausing immediately in his attempt to stand from the window’s bench at the sight of Danta snagging the blanket – and how he seems to move impossibly fast. It doesn’t matter, though, because in that very same impossibly fast movement the Maverick is doing, a warm blanket is draped across him and his arms twist into it to keep it pressed against his chest, quite literally needing no other encouragement to press his back into the warmth the blonde Ancient offers.
“[say]I did too.[/say]” Lifting an elbow under the blanket to gesture toward the plate, the Theocrat would be able to see that there was one item missing. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something, even as his head lolls back against Danta’s chest a fraction, dark eyes viewing the lightning strikes across the way in the barren expanse. “[say]It still causes some pain in my throat to eat. The wine has helped, though.[/say]” He offers a hint unhelpfully, not realizing he’d left that particular tidbit of the gritty details out.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-07-2024
[say]"Ah, I see that."[/say] Unable not to smirk at Asta's comment - because let's be honest, nine times out of ten it's the butcher trying to carry him around whilst he's drunk and slurring - Danta lets his arms slip around the other man over his blanket cocoon, nosing into his dark hair as he watches the spray of lightning outside. [say]"I never realised how active the storms were, out here,"[/say] he admits; this is not a part of the Grounds he has given much thought about since becoming Theocrat.
[say]"Oh, it does?"[/say] Raising his eyebrows - because yes, you did miss out that little detail Astaroth - Danta shifts just enough so he might be able to peer down at the butcher, trying to check for bruising around his throat or any other signs of injury he might have missed. [say]"Do you want me to get the medicine for you?"[/say] He'd assumed he'd be leaving it until Asta was ready to sleep, but the gods know he is never one to turn down drugs for himself or for other people.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-07-2024
The warmth of Danta’s chest pressed up against his back and the comfort of his arms wound around the blanket pairs nicely with the heat of the Maverick’s breath from where he’s nosed into his hair, and Astaroth finds it perhaps the most comforting moment he’s ever experienced. Not that he’ll admit to any of it, but it’s clear in the way his body sags, the way he stares out the window to watch the lightning with the utmost content. “[say]I have always enjoyed thunderstorms.[/say]” The butcher admits. It was a perfect combination of natural making, in his opinion. Beautiful to look at and to listen to, horribly destructive if given the chance to be.
Not moving despite how Danta does to inspect his throat – he’ll find zero bruising on it and nothing but the curl of long dark hair that’s still somewhat damp where it seems to be glued to his skin. “[say]No, I am alright right now.[/say]” If you think that he’ll let you go Danta now that he is in precisely the most comfortable spot in the entirety of his long life, you are wrong. “[say]I tore up my throat and lost my voice.[/say]” He says absentmindedly again, nestling into Danta’s chest a bit more, taking a slightly longer breath as the wine deadens his pain receptors. And as he speaks, Danta would certainly be able to hear the way it’s a hint deeper, rougher, raspier despite Maea’s bloodboon on it. It hadn’t healed him completely, but enough to speak and stop wheezing.
Speaking of which; “[say]I coughed up a fair amount of blood.[/say]” Thanks to any internal injuries sparked from the bruises that litter his body. At least that had stopped, but it hadn’t stopped the sickness inside him, the stomach acid from burning lancing heat through his esophagus.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-07-2024
[say]"Mm, me too,"[/say] Danta mumbles, shifting a little to get more comfortable against the wall, a gesture that only makes it easier for Asta to lean into him until both Ancients are able to watch the rolling storms like a pair of lazy felines at the window of some townhouse. [say]"Do you remember the ones we'd get out at The Climb from the volcanic eruptions? I loved those."[/say] Volcanic lightning - a rare feat anywhere else, but one that the Ancients of old could enjoy on a fairly regular basis.
[say]"If you're sure,"[/say] he concedes about the medicine, though he does reach out absently to tuck the lock of dark hair back behind the butcher's horns where it belongs. [say]"Wait, you... oh."[/say] Realising that these aren't new occurrences but additional details from his argument with Maea, the Maverick falls quiet to listen to whatever else might tumble out, his tongue running thoughtfully across his teeth.
[say]"I didn't realise. I'm sorry,"[/say] he mutters eventually, fingers grazing across the other man's throat before his hand settles around him once more. [say]"Did anything else happen?"[/say] he wonders, unable not to pry now that the wine seems to have loosened the other man's tongue. [say]"I thought you two just fought. And I mean, I can see it was bad, but..."[/say] Not as bad as Asta is revealing now.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-07-2024
“[say]I do remember them.[/say]” He agrees softly, a twitch of a smile blooming on the corners of his lips, even as a snort leaves him. “[say]The white with the red and blue clouds of ash…[/say]” He trails off briefly, nostalgic for a moment of relief before his loose lips start to spark more problems he isn’t aware of, because Danta’s touch is so soft and soothing as it corrals a piece of rogue damp hair back behind his pronged antler-esque horn, relishing in the touch as he continues to stare out the window.
He means to shake his head to Danta’s apology, but it only has him nuzzling his head in a smidge further against him, arms tightening a little around his chest. And here’s where that confusion of how to talk about what occurred happens, because his nose scrunches a little as he reflects. “[say]She didn’t do much.[/say]” He admits, like it was entirely a one sided fight. “[say]I would lunge and she would use her paw to push me back on the ground. I wasn’t… Pinned, or anything. It was just me, lunging and her swatting me to the ground, over and over and over again.[/say]” He closes his eyes and sighs out a frustrated hiss. “[say]I did it until I couldn’t get up again.[/say]”
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-07-2024
Humming his agreement and smiling, too, at the memory, Danta closes his eyes for a moment as if he can bring the image to life again behind them. [say]"We should go again soon, see if we can watch it,"[/say] he suggests. A rarity, to be sure, to want to trawl through their old hunting grounds until they could find a good spot to find such a phenomenon, but such is the complication of the Maverick's relationship to The Climb.
Blinking his eyes back open to hear Asta's voice, rough as it might be, the Maverick's brow furrows. He sits up just a fraction - only enough to be able to peer down at the other man properly, even as his arms tighten around him a little. [say]"Asta, that doesn't sound like a fight,"[/say] he says slowly. [say]"Why..."[/say] He pauses, biting his tongue until he can be sure his words won't betray him as much. [say]"You said this happened after your conversation? After you... after remembering everything that happened when you were left in The Climb?"[/say]
The panic, the torture, the isolation, etcetera.
[say]"Why didn't she just let you go? Or try to help?"[/say]
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-07-2024
“[say]That sounds lovely, Danta.[/say]” Comes the soft agreement, settling into the comfort and letting it burn away any prior memories or traumas that have been brought up in regards to the Climb in the most recent days.
The wine helps with it as he explains, even as a soft whine escapes him when the Maverick moves just a fraction, eyes pulling away from the window as he looks up at an angle to the blonde, careful to not impale him on the sharp tines of his horns. His brows pinch, confusion clear as day in his face. “[say]Yes. I think that’s why she didn’t pin me down.[/say]” Because she remembered how he’d only just told her he was tied down in the Climb to submit to his torture.
Sighing a little, the butcher shifts within Danta’s arms, enough to get a better look at him. “[say]I think she was worried and wanted to try to help..? I don’t know. All I know is that I ran and gave over to my fyrhund instinct.[/say]” Here he pauses, uncharacteristically grinding his teeth as more thoughts flood in through the haze of the wine. “[say]I remember getting sick and feeling.. Trapped. So I fought.[/say]” His dark gaze drops from Danta’s face to the lightning outside again. “[say]And when I was lying there I recall asking her why she’d followed me again and she told me because I was her friend and that she cared when I was upset. That she said it was her fault even if she didn’t know it. That she hurt me.[/say]” His brows pinch as he recalls more and more of those fleeting memories at odds with the living, brimming anger that it had been compartmentalized with. “[say]She did not want me to go through it alone.[/say]”
He sighs and pushes up now, turning to face Danta, however slow and sluggish it is. “[say]We argued more.[/say]” That’s when she’d said he was an easy target for her frustrations. “[say]She healed me enough to stop coughing blood and I threatened to kill her.[/say]” And the rest, Danta knew. That she’d said go ahead and the butcher had fled.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-07-2024
It does sound lovely - what doesn't, though, is the way sudden and detailed descriptions spill from the butcher's lips, giving Danta a much more intimate look at all that had transpired between Asta and Maea. [say]"If she cared when you were upset she wouldn't have made you feel trapped to the point of fighting."[/say] Wouldn't have swatted at him over and over again. If Danta had been there - and that's the fucking point of it, he realises, because he wasn't there - the Maverick would have known what to do. How to react. What not to say.
[say]"Fuck,"[/say] he hisses under his breath, glancing up as the other man shifts to face him. [say]"Fuck, Asta. Stop acting like she was doing you a favour."[/say] For all the kindness and compassion Maea had preached, this doesn't match up, and it's starting to make him feel sick. [say]"She's meant to be better than us."[/say] Or maybe she'd just said it to him enough that he'd believed her.
Huffing out a shuddering sigh and reaching out, suddenly, to clasp the other man's cheeks, he finds himself looking him over with fresh eyes, for injuries that go well beyond visible bruises. [say]"I should have been out there,"[/say] he apologises.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-07-2024
Danta makes a valiant point, one that the butcher had been trying to come up with excuses for – why? He doesn’t know. Probably part of it to make himself feel better for reacting how he had even if he was completely in his right to do so. Nothing about it was comfortable. In fact, the only comfort the taller Ancient had found was the second he’d spotted Danta against that burnt tree like a mirage in a desert.
It's enough that he blinks as the curses slip from the Maverick’s lips, exhaling a slow sigh, gaze dropping down from the blues of Danta’s eyes to stare at his chest, parsing through the alcohol and very little sleep and food in his battered body. He hadn’t thought that he was trying to defend her, but his subconscious said otherwise. Perhaps she was right when she’d said she was just as much of a monster as he was.
“[say]You’re right.[/say]” Astaroth says on a sigh, reaching up from under the blanket as if he might rub away the tension headache forming, only for his hand to be cut off by the abrupt shift in Danta’s warm hands clasping his bearded cheeks, dark eyes immediately lifting to meet the blues of the Maverick’s as he’s looked over and Astaroth’s lips form in a tight line as his brows pinch.
Clearing his throat but making no move to move away from this position, the hand that had lifted, instead clasps around Danta’s forearm gently. “[say]It is not your fault, Danta.[/say]” It’s the most cemented fact he’s offered so far. And he bites his tongue immediately to prevent himself from saying it’s mine.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-07-2024
[say]"It isn't yours, either,"[/say] Danta replies quickly, as if to head those thoughts off at the pass before they can get a good grip on Asta's subconscious. He doesn't respond to the other man's admission about his being right, of course - he knows he is. Instead, sitting for a brief moment as if things might simply make sense if they give them time and silence to do so, when Maea's reasoning doesn't immediately unfurl in Danta's mind, he gives up. For now, at least, he gives up.
[say]"Food, drugs, bed,"[/say] he decides, letting his hands drop to rest gently on Asta's blanketed shoulders, giving them a very gentle squeeze. [say]"For you, anyway."[/say] The Maverick's tone brokers no room for argument, but rather than making the other man get to his feet just yet with his bruises and wine-soaked mind, Danta goes instead.
[say]"We'll talk about it again in the morning,"[/say] he decides, because however much of this Asta is likely to forget overnight, Danta certainly won't. And maybe then the butcher will know what, if anything, he wants to do about it. For now, though, Danta returns with the tray he'd brought, shifting to sit cross legged on the window seat so he can tear up a loaf of bread and grab a hunk of cheese to eat with it.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-07-2024
One thought that rebounds in his head is whether or not the Maverick, amongst his many talents, is a mind reader. But he quickly reminds himself that isn’t the case. If anything, despite how aloof and solitary Astaroth was (or wanted to be), it’s clear as can be that the blonde knows him. Deep down. What thoughts would race through his head, what kind of anxieties would spark, how to correctly deal with the panic attacks that twist and turn his stomach and brain inside out.
He very nearly whines again with the loss of Danta’s hands on his cheeks only to be obliged with them on his shoulders, soaking up the warmth as his hand drops to the other Ancient’s elbow, nodding slowly even as the edges of the room spin with the movement. He doesn’t move to the bed as Danta squeezes his shoulders gently and steps away, instead he draws the blanket around him bit tighter in the absence of their shared warmth.
Dark eyes track him to ensure he doesn’t leave, and only relaxes when Danta’s back at the windowsill, the blanket falling slightly from his shoulders to rest around his biceps and chest, where purple splotching appears amongst centuries old scar tissue. He reaches up to snag a piece of salami from the plate, sharp teeth tearing through it without a single issue at all, swallowing it down before he glances out the window again. “[say]What kind of drugs are they?[/say]” He asks out of pure curiosity, because the amount of times the butcher has been under the influence of anything other than alcohol is essentially next to none.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-07-2024
Those same thoughts aren't lost on Danta, only the Maverick will have time to turn them over in his head long after the other man has passed out, and so for now he focuses purely on logistics, on the things he can do and the ways he can keep himself busy. Having set the tray between them - as well as a pitcher of water, because no more wine for you, Astaroth - it's only after eating a few morsels himself that he reaches out automatically to draw the blanket back up and around the butcher's shoulders.
[say]"Painkillers and a mild sedative,"[/say] he replies, pouring a glass of water to take a sip of it. [say]"If it had been me, I'd have made it strong enough to knock me out for days. But I didn't feel as though you'd enjoy that."[/say] Especially not if Asta ends up fighting off a nightmare but can't wake himself up. Still, with this at least, perhaps Danta might not be at as high a risk of losing his throat in the middle of the night.
[say]"Is that okay?"[/say]
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Astaroth - 07-07-2024
One piece of the salami goes down and he reaches for another from the tray between them when his dark gaze focuses on Danta’s hands as they reach out, a primal, older version of himself snapping his sharp teeth at the hands as if they might be taking away the meal he’d quite literally just told the butcher to eat, when he relaxes and mutters a “[say]sorry,[/say]” old habits and all that, as he lets Danta readjust the blankets around his shoulders, allowing the strange reflection of how he typically fusses over the other man only to be fussed over himself.
It's his turn for some of the bread and cheese as he listens, tail curling lazily around his leg as he eats what he can and nods his understanding and agreement to having not preferred to be knocked out for days. Not when he’s sure the combination of the wine, food, and drugs would put him out for long enough anyway. “[say]Yes.[/say]” He says softly, before his dark gaze lifts to Danta’s face, scanning it for the tension he knows is brimming underneath here (even though the alcohol in his system makes it seem as though he’s staring). “[say]I think I will feel a lot better when I wake up.[/say]” He admits before he takes a decently large sip of the water.
He eats until he’s full enough to slide the tray a bit closer to Danta, tightening the blankets around his shoulders before he looks toward the bed. Stiffly, he stands and takes one step toward it. Stubbornly, he reaches out for Danta’s wrist to lug him along with.
RE: [SE] or christ, hold me like a knife - Dantalion - 07-07-2024
Unable not to scoff at the teeth that come snapping towards his outstretched hands, it's with old amusement dancing in Danta's eyes that he finishes his fussing and withdraws again, shaking his head to Asta. [say]"Don't be - I'd have done the same."[/say] Might not have remembered to stop himself either, in truth, though he trusts the butcher to have pulled his hands back in time if the roles had been reversed.
Nodding to hear Asta's agreement, they fall quiet to eat in a relatively comfortable silence, though there are undoubtedly a thousand thoughts running through their minds at any given moment. (Well, more so for Danta perhaps - the Ancient beside him has the benefit of a large amount of wine in a small amount of time to slow things down a bit). [say]"I hope so,"[/say] he mumbles, of Asta feeling better - for a number of reasons, too.
[say]"I'm not going anywhere,"[/say] he chastises the other man with a playful smirk, having just been setting the tray aside when he finds his wrist snatched, the Maverick rising obediently to his feet. [say]"Let's go, then."[/say] Knowing better than to press against the bruises that cover the butcher's body, instead Danta crosses the room and draws back the blankets for Asta to fall right into bed. In the meantime, he grabs up the draught of medicine and uncorks it, holding it out expectantly for him.