[SE] just forget it

The last time someone had dared to 'summon' Thal, they'd ended up dying in their bed. Not that it'd been her doing, but that was beside the point. The point was that people didn't 'summon' the pirate captain. She was the one who made the calls on her ship and no one else; however, she owed someone a favor. And she didn't like being indebted. So when Astaroth had summoned requested her presence in the Hollowed Grounds, she'd reluctantly agreed to leave her lucrative business for the day. 

Now she found herself waiting like a subordinate in the square. She made it obvious in every line of her body that she wasn't pleased. Leaned against the wall of a dark alley with an impressive scowl on her face, people shockingly chose to give her a wide berth. If she wasn't planning to meet the fellow Ancient, she'd probably have her hood up to complete the vibes, but instead it hung down her back, mixing with her dark hair like a cloak of shadows. Her piercing blue eyes stared through the crowd, daring people to give her a reason - any reason.

thalassa

so don't waste the time i don't have

sit down now for some ground rules, thank you
do you think you can handle that much?

“Ah, my dear Captain made it.” Comes the deep, accented drawl as the butcher steps out from the shadow of an alley. He had summoned her, of course, but not for any of the traditional reasons he otherwise made deals with, nor for anything disastrous as she might assume.

No, this time, he’s called her debt for a favor. One she likely won’t like with how prickly she’s looking today. He looks like the complete opposite, suave and charming, warm in spite of the chill in the air. He swans up beside her with a bright shark toothed grin of greeting. “Thank you for arriving so quickly.” The fact he’d given her a time and day to be here was beside the point.

Danta was busy with Theocrat things and Asta had wanted to branch out from the Dusklight. So in lieu of that, and with a merry time of year, the butcher has invited Thalassa out for giving back to the Ancients and the community they’ve made. “I require assistance with helping some of our fellow Ancients winterize themselves. Despite the bonfire, we all do still require hunting during Deepfrost, so if you follow me you will see the task we have ahead of us.”

Sure enough, should Thal follow, there will be a booth set up with varying items from clothes to fire starters, traps and weapons to make it easier to indulge in the bloodlust during this time of year. Already standing at it are a few other volunteers Asta has collected, and he flashes Thal an amused smile as he drifts toward the booth to ready himself.

Astaroth

i've just come back to life, i'm here, i'm your little ray of sunshine

Her eyes catch the towering man easily in the crowd. Tilting her head as a manner of greeting, she says, "Astaroth." Despite her expression, there's no anger in her voice, only quiet acceptance of the situation. That doesn't stop her from rolling her eyes at the following comment, nearly laughing at the absurdity, but keeping her mouth shut. And as much as she wants to interrogate Asta about what questionable thing he might have her do today, Thal tries to contain her brashness while keeping in mind the fortune teller's words. 'Don't lead with emotions,' she tells herself. 

Her 'patience' pays off when he explains the plan, leading her to a booth full of people and supplies. An icy breeze seems to support his sentiments, forcing an army of goosebumps along her covered arms. She can't deny that their race has a major disadvantage this time of year, but it surprises her to see Asta appear so... soft. The smile he gives her isn't like the blood-drenched ones she's used to, full of violent promises and too-sharp teeth. It's almost kind. And it has her eyes narrowing suspiciously. Moving a little stiffly, she steps behind the booth with him. "Are we selling them? Or giving them away?" She's about as familiar with 'charity' as people might expect of a pirate captain.

thalassa

so don't waste the time i don't have

sit down now for some ground rules, thank you
do you think you can handle that much?

Icy to match the season, he supposes, whereas the butcher takes a more collected approach to this time of year. It’s a time where he thrives with warmth and comfort, often choosing it over the typical favorite past times he has. It’s why the smile angled toward her is softer, why it doesn’t harbor the sharpness he’s capable of. That, and a portion of it is also likely because as he gets to know and interact with her, he likes her. A formidable friend to have, as far as he’s concerned.

Even if he’s forcing her into some community service.

“Ah, we are giving them away.” He hums, gesturing to the booth they now stand behind that has the multitudes of options. “The Grounds has become a home away from home – the Climb, is what I am inferring – and so it is important that we have options to protect us when we are venturing out too far from warmth, wouldn’t you agree?” Plucking a particularly comfortable jacket, the outer lining is waterproof while the inside is quite soft – not that Astaroth could feel it with his gloved hand, but it clearly looks the part. “I am hopeful that by doing this we will not come across any of our siblings as gargoyles when Flowerbirth arrives.” A better explanation as everything gets situated to be handed out and hot cider, coffee, and cocoa are laid out in steaming cups.

Turning back toward her he inclines his head. “Would you prefer to hand out the weaponry, the trinkets, or the clothing?” Personally he figures she’d go for the weaponry, as the formidable captain she is, but he is a gentleman at the end of the day and having options was important.

Astaroth

i've just come back to life, i'm here, i'm your little ray of sunshine

Thal shrugs her shoulders at the clarification. She may not agree with the decision, but it isn't her money that's being wasted. She's just here to clear a debt - and maybe snag some of the hot chocolate. It's also hard to argue with the logic when she can feel her own limbs tightening with the dip in temperature. Looking closely at the various options, she brushes a hand over a particularly thick coat small enough for a child. "I suppose so." Her hand drew back like it had been stung by the tender emotions that threatened to pollute her mind, eyes narrowing. "But if they can't find ways to survive on their own, should we even consider them worthy of their Ancient status?" She certainly didn't need help to make her way. In fact, she'd had the hindrance of missing memories to further complicate her own beginning. Why would she waste her time and effort prolonging such unworthy existences who couldn't do the same? 

Turning her head away from Asta, she stepped closer to the weapons, just as he'd predicted. "I'll take these." To prepare for the coming Ancients, she took stock of the items. Daggers, swords, axes, spears, and other various sharp tools were laid out, but they were disorganized, haphazardly thrown about, their dull edges frosted with cold. If only to keep her hard image, she lifted a nearby dagger, flipping it in her hand before snagging an oiled rag to run along its length. Her heat and practiced movement pushed a glittering sheen into the metal. "How long have you been doing this?" Helping others that is.

thalassa

so don't waste the time i don't have

sit down now for some ground rules, thank you
do you think you can handle that much?

He’s observant, noticing the way she takes to the child sized coat before withdrawing swiftly, though he doesn’t comment on it. Not when her next statement has his smile broadening, an almost nostalgic note to it as he nods. “Of course. Just because you can survive alone, does not mean that you have to.” He snags one of the cocoa’s for himself – ever the sweet (and sharp) toothed one in the booth, and he watches the steam rise before he takes sip of the warm liquid to warm his old bones. “I happened to be on Mort’s doorstep when Dygra saved me and made me the devilishly handsome Ancient you now know.” Gesturing to himself with his freehand, his accented tone is playful as it is arrogant before he’s setting the cup down to begin to fold the clothes strewn out as Thalassa picks the weaponry.

Just as he’d expected.

He notes her favored dagger in hand before she’s oiling it, the metal glittering as he starts to organize the clothes into sizes and versatility. “I have..mm, always helped in one way or another.” Some were far more brutal than others were, but at the end of the day it benefited someone that wasn’t him. "At the current moment, I harbor a sharp appearance as Security of the Dusklight. I should probably aim to be somewhat warm and inviting should we wish to keep attracting patrons." It's a playful jab at himself as he evades an answer he isn't even sure he knows. What he does know is that Deepfrost takes his edges off, unless someone wholly and horribly overstepped.

And perhaps it’s a less invasive way to help the Ancient population in the Grounds than what had happened to him before he’d become one as well. “Darling Dygra always loves a flare of unique chaos. However you choose that chaos to be. It does not always have to be the definition.” If Thal watches him, she’ll see that he’s a relatively unique Ancient in that he is a perfectionist. The clothes are organized in perfect rows and by size, folded properly and neatly.

And Dygra still loved him for it, even when traditionally they would be more akin to keep things messy and strewn about.

Astaroth

i've just come back to life, i'm here, i'm your little ray of sunshine

His words strike a chord deep in her chest and Thal has to look away, hiding the pang of grief in her eyes. Despite countless arguments about the same topic, Asta has somehow found the chink in her armor. The usual stubbornness dies on her tongue, unable to fight the sickeningly positive opinion that her soul craves to hear. To believe. Instead, she nods her head, not trusting herself to respond with anything other than words she's not ready to say. Taking his own actions as permission and excuse, Thal grabs a cup of hot chocolate for herself. Its sweet warmth settles in her belly, easing the lingering tension enough to elicit a small smile at Asta's playful theatrics. "I find that hard to believe." Not only that he's ever been on the brink of death, but that Dygra had much to do with his transformation beyond the tail and horns. Some things even deities can't change.

Trading her hot beverage for weapons, it further surprises her to hear of the Butcher's altruistic nature. She wouldn't have guessed that of the man with saws for teeth. Raising an eyebrow, she checks the glint of the dagger to ensure her reflection is visible through the shine. "One of the many benefits of my profession: I don't have to act 'warm and inviting' to anyone." Unless she wants to - which is about as common as Rae's Lilies. The idea of having to plaster a fake smile on her face every day for hours on end is as enticing as turning to stone. 

Satisfied with the dagger's new look, she places it on the table, noting the meticulous organization on Asta's table. Tilting her head, Thal selects a particularly vicious looking axe. "'Unique chaos.' I'm not familiar with that term." To her, 'chaos' was giving in to the bloodlust. It was split decisions and colliding insanity. It was the world careening out from under her. It was too unhinged to be 'unique' unless that applied to its singular and incomparable existence. What did he know that she didn't?

thalassa

so don't waste the time i don't have

sit down now for some ground rules, thank you
do you think you can handle that much?

“I do harbor the scars to prove otherwise.” The butcher hums, flashing Thal a smile that seems to suggest that while he is usually arrogant and cocky, this was an equally sensitive subject for himself. Not that he had any qualms with showing her, of course. But the memories and the fact he can’t even hunt with Danta in his most soul-like shift because of it really dampened one’s life. “And when she saved me, it felt as though she unlocked a part of me I did not realize I had so dearly missed.” Though, he’d needed a long healing process to the point that the other Ancients had given him the name everyone knows him by now – his original name long forgotten in the confines of cannibal clans past.

Now he was just the Butcher of Whitebrim.

Of a place that no longer existed anymore, either.

At least her comment over her choice of profession and requirements of being warm and inviting harbors a low and deep chuckle to leave the butcher as he inclines his horned head. “I do suppose that is true. Better to be fearsome, mm?” It’s a playful tone he takes, though he knows the reality of it. He’d been on her ship once, he recalls the way everyone looked to her. She had a certain image she needed to keep, and the butcher understood that more than most.

Shifting his attention to the firestarters and organizing them before the ancients of the grounds drift by, Astaroth hums a note in response to her inquiry. “Unique chaos as in.. Well, you can see I can be – mm, what did Danta mention it as? OCD? Whatever that means.” Shrugging a shoulder, the butcher flashes her a smile that truly suggests he’s not that familiar with the term to know whether it was true or not. “I have my fun with hunts or with those that overstep boundaries. Or, by creating something beautiful only to destroy it a second later.” Origami, as it turned out. Crafting beautiful little creatures made of paper only to burst into flame shortly after. "Perhaps unique is not the correct term, but rather... Creative."

Astaroth

i've just come back to life, i'm here, i'm your little ray of sunshine

Thal doesn't need to see the scars to believe him, returning his smile with a mix of humor and understanding. She may not have physical scars of her own, but something had obviously occurred before her transition to leave her like this. Her smile turned bitter as she set aside the axe. "I would dare to say that my own transformation did the opposite, locking a part of me away." Maybe that was a blessing in disguise - a gift from the goddess or the natural reaction of her psyche; but it sure didn't feel like it. She barely knows who she is, and it leaves her feeling vulnerable and ill equipped for the world around her. 

Lifting a rapier-like sword to her rag, Thal tries to keep her own tone playful, ignoring how she's just exposed her beating heart to the man. Her mouth tilts in a smile, her shoulders shrugging. "It's certainly easier." Easier than opening up to those around her. Easier than letting them in. Easier than losing them. Gods know what happened the last time she did that. As much as she wants to take up residence in a bar and lose ever piece of her humanity, all signs seem to be pushing her to try again. As if the last case was an outlier. As if not everyone will leave her. 

The captain tries to shove aside the dark emotions that threaten to overwhelm her again. She'd promised to move past them after the Festival of Lights, but things don't always change that quickly. Sometimes the heart hasn't moved on even if the mind vows to. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean she can afford to stop trying. She has a ship to run, after all. 

Swallowing a sip of hot chocolate like a tactile representation of her emotions, Thal focuses on Asta's words. She replaces the newly shined sword as he finishes, humming a crystal tune to herself. "Hmmm... I suppose that makes sense." It isn't her idea of 'chaos,' but she thinks she understands. It's like picking battles, only selecting those that would be worth the effort: a good meal, thrilling revenge, or pure physical satisfaction. That she could relate to. Nodding her head, Thal offers the dagger to a thin Ancient who approaches her table. "So like 'selective' chaos." Although it comes out as a statement, there's still a musical lilt of question in her tone, an offer for correction or clarification.

thalassa

so don't waste the time i don't have

sit down now for some ground rules, thank you
do you think you can handle that much?

Ah, but that was something Astaroth had dealt with as well. His previous life, shuttered away and made anew. It just so happened that it aligned relatively well with what the Ancient’s stood for, but the fact was the same. He could never go home, not that there was anything to return back to at the time. His clan all but decimated by their own stupidity. “It locked a part of me away as well.” He hums softly. “I abandoned everything I came from in order to embrace it. But.. She saved my life. It felt only fitting I started a new one after.” Some things remained the same; the memories, the sharpened teeth, the dark calculating eyes, the accent, and the survivability. The fashion, the manners, the politeness, the tail and horns and magic and fire were only boons learned and granted after the transformation.

Handing a waterproof jacket to a thin Ancient that approaches as they continue to talk, the butcher flashes them a bright and welcoming smile – shark toothed and all as he nods his head to their thanks, before he glances back over at her to see her sipping from the cocoa again, understanding what he meant by his explanation of chaos. “Indeed.” His rumbling accented voice agrees, before he’s pausing to hand a Firestarter to a relatively young looking Ancient. “Here you go, darling. It will help if you have not gotten to the point that you can conjure it on your own.” The young Ancient smiles and nods and heads to Thalassa’s side, eyeing the axe she had recently cleaned up.

“I am fairly confident that so long as we are happy and we go on our hunts and embrace blood now and again, Dygra is more than pleased with the things we are doing.” Even if his bloodlust hunts tended to be feral and ritualistic. An ode to the past versions of himself and his love for their goddess, he supposes. “Have you met her again since your transformation?” He asks curiously, pausing to take a sip of his cocoa after heating it with a flick of flame to bring it back to steaming temperatures.

Astaroth

i've just come back to life, i'm here, i'm your little ray of sunshine

She can't hide the surprise that moves across her face. Perhaps she isn't as alone as she thinks. But is that what she needs to do? Start anew? What does that even entail? Does she need to forget the gap in her mind? Or reject the woman who claims to be her mother? It feels like such an overwhelming task to take on and just the thought makes her nauseous. 

Thal lifts a new dagger to let the familiar movement ease her discomfort as she asks softly, "How do you separate the two?" Her voice borders on desperate, but isn't that what she is? She's been floundering for so long, trying to grasp at the reigns of her life only to slip back into the darkness. Now she finds herself on a precipice, teetering between the familiar embrace of nothingness and the unknown. And it terrifies her. 

So she's more than happy for a distraction when her gaze falls on the newcomer. The captain doesn't hesitate to offer the axe, but she adds a stern word of warning. "Don't mess around with this. You might lose an eye." The young Ancient blanches slightly but accepts the weapon with silent determination in her eyes. It makes Thal's lips twitch into a subtle smile, watching as she rushes to join a group of other young Ancients admiring their new gear. Part of her starts to understand why Asta likes this, even if she won't admit it yet. She covers the emotion with another sip of her hot chocolate.

The topic of Dygra isn't one she shies from, always maintaining a healthy fear and loyalty. Thal understands his point, having never felt like she'd disappointed the goddess with her own choice of chaos. However, his question reminds her of just another relationship that's suffered in recent months. Laughing coldly, she raises an eyebrow at Asta. "After I got cursed the first time I tried? Yes; she gave me the quest for my daggers." She isn't sure if that counts as 'two' answered prayers, or one with a guaranteed answer the second time. Either way, it doesn't feel like very much. Her last effort ended in the breaking of her heart echoing in the silence, but she wonders if that had been for the best. She wouldn't have been very good company.

thalassa

so don't waste the time i don't have

sit down now for some ground rules, thank you
do you think you can handle that much?

Folding another series of clothes just delivered as they hand out a few more items to varying visitors, the butcher glances toward Thalassa sidelong at her question, the desperation there that he hadn’t ever expected to hear from her and yet somehow happy for it anyway. It made things easier in a way, rather than bottling and burying the feelings and pretending like they didn’t matter. “They are intertwined in some ways.” He admits, letting the nostalgic smile cross his face. “But I decided upon my transformation that I would become a new version of myself. A better version. I learned to read and to write. I learned proper manners and fashion. It was easy to keep that part of me away because it did not benefit this new version of myself.” Quick explanations that might seem like he was burying the past version of himself when in reality he was simply bettering himself.

He didn’t always want to be the helpless cannibal of Whitebrim. He’d made a name for himself. The Butcher. A ghost story told to children to make them behave, all while everyone else was less than aware he was the one they told the stories about. He’d calculated and learned all that he could. And he was infinitely proud of himself for that.

He watches shortly after as the young Ancient accepts the word of advice from Thal, letting the smile grace his face before he focuses on the next one to approach, offering him a warm waterproof sweater to keep the snow from seeping into with a grateful nod of his horned head. And that’s when he hears her comment of getting cursed, his nose wrinkling as he casts a glance over toward her a touch sadly. “The spirits can be fickle, those ones.” He admits, shaking his head. “I was not a pious man before my transformation. My… Home was not either. We did not often pray, likely because the majority of us that tried often ended up cursed.” It’s why he’d never sought out the gods. “We had rituals for the Eirichi, however. It was Halo, centuries ago, you see.” He was a man born from ice and snow, away from most modern civilizations.

"How was she when you did meet her again?" Was she as lovely to Thalassa as she was to him? Or was it the fact he'd had such a long term relationship with Dygra that the butcher never had to fear her judgement or displeasure?

Astaroth

i've just come back to life, i'm here, i'm your little ray of sunshine

Thal absorbs the information in silence, wondering what parts of herself would exist in a 'better' version of her, and what she would leave behind in the process. It gives her a lot to consider, but it will take time and self-reflection. For now, she's just satisfied to know that's it's possible, and that she can turn to Asta for advice on the matter (as a last resort of course). 

One of his other comments catches her attention, and Thal smiles playfully as she quietly asks, "You didn't know how to read or write?" Although she knows he's old, she didn't think he was older than the written word. Even she - who'd apparently grown up under water then subsequently lost all her memories - knew how to read. There's no judgement, but it does make her curious as to how he'd come to learn the skill. 

She hands the dagger to the next Ancient, working into a rhythm of oiling and offering weapons. It's becoming more comfortable, and her stern expression begins to soften to something resembling contentment. Even mention of curses doesn't bring more than a concentrated scowl to her face. "I can't blame any of you. It's not an enjoyable experience and I was angry for a time after that." Angry with Dygra. Angry with herself. Angry at the world. But that emotion had been misguided and misplaced. When she'd finally realized that and returned to the shrine, Dygra had been there with open arms. "She was pleased, and I felt..." Her eyes raise, searching for the word before it comes to her, softly. "loved." Thal shrugs her shoulders to release the heaviness of the emotion while she hands the sword off to another. "It's hard not to feel a connection to her. You know?" Unlike other deities, their relationship is one of parent and children, full of seeking approval and familial bonds. Having finally met Dygra, she can't imagine how she was every angry with the goddess.

thalassa

so don't waste the time i don't have

sit down now for some ground rules, thank you
do you think you can handle that much?

She could come and talk to him about whatever she liked and he would answer her questions – because as much as Astaroth had grown used to becoming a solitary creature (until Danta had begun to change that), there was a certain kinship with this captain, and half the reason he made the deal with her in the first place was to ensure that he did have a chance to talk with her again. Their conversations were intriguing, even if he was poking fun at himself.

As such, he does see her playful smile and a low chuckle escapes him before he shakes his head. “I did not. I grew up.. mm, outside of general civilization, I suppose one could say. Reading and writing were not something we needed to know. We learned how to survive. Anything else meant you were simply pushing aside your duties onto someone or something else.” He shrugs a shoulder, before handing another Firestarter to another set of ancients that arrive alongside a few waterproof clothes.

The rhythm the two of them get into is easy, comfortable, rewarding. And as Thalassa explains more about her interaction with their goddess, he finds his lips quirking into a gentler smile. Softer, more thoughtful as he nods his horned head. “I do know.” He hums, finding himself in full agreement. “It is truly a wonder to feel a god’s love and adoration so wholly. In my limited experience, I am positive that Dygra does it the best.” Never once did he ever have to worry that she wouldn’t approve of him or the things he was doing. Never once was he worried about how he'd be received. She loved him each and every time she showed up when he called for her.

It's exactly why he harbored no worries after Safrin had essentially saved his life. Safrin was Safrin, but Dygra… Dygra was everything.

Astaroth

i've just come back to life, i'm here, i'm your little ray of sunshine