Call me selfish when I say this

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

The smile faded from the fox-like man's face at the same rate as Asta's teeth were bared. Grimace or grin, it caused the person's expression to harden, and as the fire flared up next to him and his companions it was countered by barriers of water - revealing him to be Abandoned, and quite a skilled one at that.
With deliberate slowness he rose, rolling his shoulders to limber them up.
"See, I would have been happy to settle this in a civilized manner," the red-haired one said, "but now you have threatened me. Can't have that, can we..."

Maea stiffened as she realized that this was escalating rather too quickly. The flare of magic was drawing attention from revelers around them; muttering worriedly they began pressing away from the small group, trying to make space in a room where breathing room had become a rare thing.
The tall woman had caught hold of the cane and tried to yank it out of Astaroth's grip, while a pair of daggers appeared in the hands of the tattooed guy. Clearly they were not beyond making a scene or getting others caught up in their trouble, and a sense of nauseous tension came over Maea; guilt that all of this was happening because of her. Because she hadn't been able to fight back when it counted.

"Asta," she murmured anxiously, patting his arm to try and catch his attention. "Asta, not here..." Though how they would make these people leave without a fight was beyond her.

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

/// i'm uncontrollable, emotional, chaotically proportional
i'm visceral, reloadable

“A civilized manner?” Astaroth laughs, not at all put out by the water mage, instead far too focused on the audacity of this man. Because if anything, he was the one acting uncivilized in a location where everyone else around here knew the butcher kept an eye on and protected. The naivety of the water mage is nearly amusing. “That ended at the precise time you broke the rules of our fine establishment.” He says casually, keeping the flame a touch away.

There’s no thought toward Maea in this instance as he takes in the glint of the blades and the woman starts to tug at the cane. There’s simply just a slightly feral twist to his grin, to his sharp teeth still on display but somehow even more menacing in the lowlight of the Dusklight.

“Darling, it has to be here.” He informs her in a somewhat venomous tone — but Astaroth isn’t alone, either. While the two people that show up to flank him aren’t bouncers or security, they do both work here at the Dusklight. Two men that Maea likely would have seen around. The taller of the two is the usual bartender, already preparing to square up, a mage of his own right. The other, one of the workers from the kitchens, an attuned if the partial shift is anything to go by.

Astaroth loosens the grip on the woman’s shoulder with the cane to withdraw it back to him, shifting to put Maea behind him. The cane comes back up to slam down on the hands holding the daggers and hopefully take the man off guard, while the abandoned behind him snags more of that fire and creates a wall of flame to keep the red headed man in the booth while the attuned immediately rushes the woman with a swift punch to the stomach.

Astaroth

i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy ///
everybody in the world knows i'm a little twisted

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

He was right, of course. There was no stopping this fight now, and the look on Asta's face had her wondering if the Butcher would have chosen such an option if it did appear. Feeling utterly useless, Maea let herself be guided behind the towering ancient. Not for the first time was she made keenly aware of the difference between sparring and actually fighting, and just how little experience she had fighting people rather than animals. There was so much going on; even if she could help, she wouldn't know how to do it without getting in the way.

Sticking close to her friend, she watched how the tattoed person managed to throw one of the daggers at Asta before doubling over when the cane struck his gut. The tall woman engaged the attuned and dodged the gut punch, only to take a fist in the face instead. It could have been a swift takedown by the Dusklight crew, but just when it looked like they had the situation under control, a flurry of razor sharp icickes shot through the barrier towards Asta - but so sloppily aimed that most flew wild, towards the crowd of guests that still pushed to get out of the way.

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

/// i'm uncontrollable, emotional, chaotically proportional
i'm visceral, reloadable

It has been a long time since he’s had a scrap like this. And despite how everything seems to start moving quickly, Astaroth’s grin remains on his face. It’s become more of a toothy, feral thing, but the sharp teeth remain on display as he twists enough to avoid the dagger, the sharp blade nicking his shirt and leaves a hole behind but thankfully misses the skin beneath it, and also missing Maea as it sails past, clattering to the floor. A rough and accented “pick that up,” is aimed at Maea as it comes to a stop near her feet, and Asta’s free hand becomes coated with flame.

Utilizing the cane and his fiery hand, Astaroth grabs the tattooed man’s shoulder and uses the cane pressed into his gut to turn him around, slamming him down onto the hardened wood top of the booth, hoping to knock him out.

That’s when he notices the red headed man and the wayward ice spikes, a dark laugh leaving him as the mage of the Dusklight crew switches his tactics, utilizing his own water magic to melt the ice spikes before they have a chance of hurting anyone behind them. The attuned remains preoccupied with the woman, trying to knock her out as well.

It leaves Astaroth focused on the red headed man with that same sharp toothed grin, reaching in to forcefully drag him out of the confines of the booth with fiery hands.

Astaroth

i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy ///
everybody in the world knows i'm a little twisted

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

Down went the tattooed man, with nothing stirring about him save for a thin tendril of smoke that rose from the singed clothing. Snatching up the dagger as she was told, Maea finally found a way to make herself useful and sidled around Asta to stand guard by the assailant, to make sure he couldn't get back up. 

Squeezing the handle of the dagger anxiously, she followed the duel between the woman and attuned; they seemed evenly matched at a glance, but slowly the short-haired troublemaker started to lose ground. And then a well aimed punch to the chin sent her staggering. It was all the opening Asta's helper needed; before Maea could really see what happened the woman had been felled to the floor and was pinned in place, kept immobile by a painful twist of arms upon her back.

Which left only the fox-faced man. He had a dangerous look on his face now, and blocked Asta's grab with a raised arm, only to come out of the booth with a chill wind whistling around him. A collective shudder passed through the Dusklight as a mist began to spread, icy cold and somehow draining.

Maea shook her head, blinking against a preternatural urge to sleep, to lay down and just - just close her eyes for a bit. 
Magic. It had to be - and she should say something, tell her friend, fight it somehow... but with a note of alarm she saw the bartender go down, and found herself slumped against a chair, barely able to keep on her feet and her thoughts numbed, as if hypothermia was setting in.

It was only a small thing. Only a brief nudge of Bloodboon as the bit her lip bloody with sharp teeth and aimed at Asta - hoping it would be enough to give him energy, keep him awake and on his feet, able to keep fighting - 

With a quiet thud the petite woman collapsed, sprawled on the floor like a discarded ragdoll.

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

/// i'm uncontrollable, emotional, chaotically proportional
i'm visceral, reloadable

Adrenaline does quite a lot for the butcher, these days, and despite the way the man dodges out of the fiery grip and begins to spread his cold draining mist, Astaroth’s grin only broadens in an even more feral aspect. To combat the cold, the fires rage even further from some unnamed patron in the back, rivaling the cold that threatens to descend, and as Maea pricks herself for the bloodboon, there’s a sense of rejuvenation.

Maea collapses but Astaroth’s focus is entirely on the fox haired man, the fire he’s got control of swirls around him in an effort to add more mobility, and he immediately reaches into a pocket to withdraw one of a few knives, launching it at the fox haired man to hopefully distract him from continuing the icy gale. And hopefully it distracts him enough for the immediate rush by the butcher, hands wreathed in fire, grabbing at the offender’s shirt, a swift kick in the process to the offender’s knee, hoping to brand and burn to force him down and twist him so his back is to the butcher. Astaroth has the height to help with it, and a surprising amount of muscle throughout to make it work.

Sharp teeth remain on display the closer the butcher gets, and with the commotion, metal handcuffs appear in a now non fiery hand, clasping around the fox haired man’s wrist.

Astaroth

i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy ///
everybody in the world knows i'm a little twisted

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

It had been a trumph card of a sort, that bit of personal magic, and apparently not a lot of people remained unphased by it as evidenced by the number of people that had succumbed all around the red-haired man. Surprise turned to outrage when Astaroth did not follow suite. Then worry set in when the tide of the fight turned, then desperation; he put up a strong fight against the Butcher but was overwhelmed by the great difference in stature between them. Down he went, clothes singed and skin burned, and what followed as his hands were cuffed behind his back was a string of curses so vehement they might have shocked even the clientele of the brothel.

With the magician's focus broken, the spell began to wear off. Shaking her head, Maea began to stir, as did Asta's backup and the guests that had been caught up in the skirmish. More than one helping hand was offered now, to keep the troublemakers contained. Did Asta need help? What to do with these people, Thank you, Thank you, well done! – and the music that had quieted for a moment picked up again, as if nothing untoward had ever happened.

Hauling herself off the floor and into a vacated chair, Maea shivered and wiped a trickle of blood off her chin. Feeling out of sorts, she stared vacantly at the wriggling, spitting man in Asta's grip; wondering what she would have done if she hadn't been rescued. If no one had noticed, if her friend hadn't been there –

Fat load of good all the magic and shifts and hours of training had done her, if she couldn't put any of it to use when it counted. 
"Thank you," she said softly. It was swallowed by the other voices, and she was unsure whether he could even hear her.

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

/// i'm uncontrollable, emotional, chaotically proportional
i'm visceral, reloadable

Getting the mage down, Asta lets out a deep and dark chuckle, still baring his teeth in a far more feral way than most people would. The cuffs slip on, locked in tight and he breathes a breath of relief as he moves to stand and lug the guy up, flame still twisting around his fingers as if in threat. A sharp, accented whisper is said into the fox haired man’s ear, handing him off to some soldiers that have appeared thanks to the commotion, and with that solved, the butcher swiftly works to reorient his clothing.

But there’s an edge surrounding him that still screams of violence and blood, even as he snags a clean rag and focuses his dark gaze onto Maea, offering it out to her as he moves to kneel before her. “You’re welcome. Are you alright?” He asks, cocking his head a bit too animal and primal that he seems off from his usual carefree stature. Perhaps it’s the fight, perhaps it’s the snow, perhaps it’s the fact he hasn’t seen the sun in some time, perhaps it’s sparked that bloodlust within him that bounces against the walls of his ribcage.

It’s hard to say.

But he does focus on her first, ignoring everything else other than the hand off to the soldier.

Astaroth

i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy ///
everybody in the world knows i'm a little twisted

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

Unable to tear her eyes away, she saw the soldiers take over the handling of the rogues and would have kept following their path all the way to the door. Except, her view was filled with Asta's face instead, and with the rag. Accepting it, she shrugged her shoulders numbly and wiped at her bleeding lip, staining it with crimson. "I'm not hurt." Not physically, at least. It was just that a cold seemed to have settled in her bones after that spell, and though the room was warming up again, her insides were not.

Focusing her gaze on her friend, the change in him seemed far more concerning in the moment. The expression he wore rhymed poorly with the decadent opulence of the Dusklight. He seemed made for some other place entirely; something rougher and harsher, a world far less kind than the one she knew. Drawing breath to speak, she cut herself off several times, realizing that she didn't know what to say. This was an Asta she didn't know. Not that she knew him that well in general but... this version felt dangerous. Volatile, somehow - and to have him on his knees for her sake was so wrong.

"Are you okay?" Pale eyes scanned him quickly, searching for injuries. Still clutching the confiscated knife in one hand, she made a gesture to turn it on herself - if all she ever did was cause pain, then let it be her own, and for the sake of helping those more capable than herself.

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

/// i'm uncontrollable, emotional, chaotically proportional
i'm visceral, reloadable

Relaxing minutely at the answer he receives from her, he shifts a little where he kneels, tail flicking behind him in a quiet display of the energy burning through him. Nodding, he sits back on his heels and returns to that perfect posture, hand lifting to run through his hair to try and tame it back behind his horns.

He doesn’t notice the way she tries and fails to speak over and over, and instead focuses the second the silver of the blade shifts to point toward herself, his hand immediately moving to take it from her with a shake of his head that loosens all of the work he’d just done trying to tame it back. “I’m fine, darling.” He drawls with less of the poise of normal, flashing her a too toothy smile. “It has been an age since I’ve felt the touch of bloodboon.” His grin broadens slightly. “It was quite helpful, thank you.” Giving her hand a light squeeze, he snags the dagger from her hand.

Astaroth

i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy ///
everybody in the world knows i'm a little twisted

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

His hand engulfed hers, interrupting the path of the steel before she could complete her intent. Breath hitching in her throat, she relinquished the blade and hastily tucked her hands away in her lap, folded neatly but so tense that her knuckles whitened.
"I see. That's good." Possibly she was a bit disappointed that she couldn't make herself useful. Maybe the pain would have shaken the numbness from her mind.

Music and the resuming buzz of voices made it difficult to carry on a conversation. Asta's gratitude was received with a tense line of her mouth, as the looked down at her knees. Shame was a tentacled beast in her chest that squeezed her innards into nausea.
"Sorry you had to step in at all," she managed to get out, before making a motion to rise. "I should get back to work – "

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

/// i'm uncontrollable, emotional, chaotically proportional
i'm visceral, reloadable

He doesn’t note her disappointment as he scans her over. But he does notice the way she still seems to be small, hands tucked into her lap, a hard line forming on her face, even as the bar begins to pick back up and workers rush to clean any mess left behind from the fight. Her next question sparks his brows to pinch, that same side sharp toothed grin on display as he regards her curiously. “It is my job, darling. Don’t be sorry.” He offers surprisingly casually, his tail still flicking back behind him with excess energy.

He doesn’t stop her from rising, but he does continue to block her path, peering up at her from his knees with a tilt to his head. “No, you need to rest. Everyone has it handled. Do you have a room I can take you to?” He asks, looking up at her from his knees still, subconsciously allowing her a moment of lording her height over him as he patiently waits.

Astaroth

i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy ///
everybody in the world knows i'm a little twisted

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

Don't be sorry. That was easier said than done. She didn't argue though. Nor did she object when her path back to the bar was blocked. Her shoulders just dropped wearily, any of the usual fight completely gone from her.

"A room..?" She had to think. "Well... not really? I've been napping in the break room, mostly." Borrowing the bath after someone else, changing clothes when she remembered to - but mostly Maea had been making do without a room of her own. It was better to remain surrounded with people, after all. If she was alone, there was time to think, and fret, and let fear take hold. It was not so easy as simply not being afraid, after all. "I can just go back there, though. No need to make a fuss." She could just dit down for a while, then get back to work when no one was looking.

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

/// i'm uncontrollable, emotional, chaotically proportional
i'm visceral, reloadable

Astaroth’s head tilts with the answer, dark brow rising before a soft little sound leaves his lips not unlike a tsk, before he shakes his head. “You need actual rest, darling.” If she was right and monsters began to show up in droves, how would she expect to stand a chance with little to no sleep?

He shifts to stand, drawn back to his full height and reorienting his shirt sleeves again, looking back up to the bar briefly to see just how busy they were. Less busy now than they had been before the commotion, but that was often to be expected. So he offers his hand to her, still brimming with energy but kept enough of it under wraps to return somewhat back to himself. “You will use my room.” And it wouldn’t be unlike last time she’d used his room, only this time no wounds would open that require her help.

Astaroth

i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy ///
everybody in the world knows i'm a little twisted