[SE] Don't be cautious, don't be kind

Fool me once, fool me twice
Are you death or paradise?

It doesn't take long to put some distance between them and the Barrows, the crumpled bodies of the dead undead still fresh in her mind. She's almost... sad about it, and Thal silently thinks about the strangeness of that - quickly realizing that she'd rather not.

Her hands run down her sides to check for her aray of daggers, finding something else to occupy her thoughts while she leads Asta back to her ship. Glancing through the fog behind them to make sure the other participants weren't following (one Ancient in particular), Thal asks absently, "Did you know the others?" Other than said Ancient, she hadn't recognized the guy punching the air, or the other one who'd been throwing magic around like it grows on trees. A mask of casual curiosity passes over her face, disguising the confusion that lingers underneath.

Now you'll never see me cry
There's just no time to die

Thalassa

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

The walk back has him taking note of his injuries, having wrapped a cloth around the flat wound of the blade on his arm, his singed clothes but otherwise fine legs, the still cold burn of the priestess’ hands still aching in his chest. “I have only met one of them officially, but yes.” He murmurs softly, flashing her a sharp smile to tell her that he’s fine even if the way he takes note of his wounds seems like he isn’t.

Mostly cataloguing them for how he’s going to apologize to Danta.

“The magic wielder is Jack. The Captain of the Ark.” He offers the information easily, shrugging his shoulder slightly as his tail flicks a whiplike annoyance of the other captain as he mentions him. “Koa is the one that had called for Ludo.” Who was father for a day with the revived bone child. Maea, they both knew.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

Fool me once, fool me twice
Are you death or paradise?

She catches his careful self-assessment and following smile, glancing regretfully at the charred edges of his pants - another strangeness of the interaction. If she had bloodboon, she might have been able to heal him, but alas, Thal isn't good for much more than making trouble, not fixing it; so she lets the issue lie, trusting Asta to let her know if he needs assistance. 

Only one of the names rings a bell, and she spots the sharp flick of his tail as he says it. Tilting her head, she slides her hands casually into her pockets. "Ah. The infamous Captain Jack Barclay, hm? I expected him to be... bigger." His reputation doesn't conjure images of the whily average height man she'd seen today. If anything, she'd have expected someone who looks more like Asta - broad shoulders, taller than life - so no one should blame her when Jack doesn't quite live up to what she'd have imagined. In fact, she doesn't feel very intimidated by him at all despite the fact that they could be considered 'competitors,' but perhaps that's just the purple hue of her emotions. 

Kicking a loose clod of dirt, Thal thinks about the other participant, a small sneer of disgust appearing on her lips. "Want to guess who showed up on my ship the other day?" She doesn't think it'll be hard for him to guess based on the topic, but she lets the suspence hang, nonetheless, sure that Asta will appreciate the dramatics.

Now you'll never see me cry
There's just no time to die

Thalassa

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

The butcher snorts as he hears her confirmation – realizing that it wouldn’t be hard for her to know just who the captain was. “That is the one, darling.” He hums to her, flashing her a sharp smile that seems to suggest that he’s about to give a little bit of wisdom. “He may not be tall, but he certainly is a force.” Do not underestimate him. He’d fought alongside Jack when the boggart had rampaged through the Grounds. He recalls the variety of elements the captain had whipped out, of course, before the boggart had shifted into a maelstrom of crows which had been quite the shocking trigger.

But that’s all behind him now, and as he walks alongside her with his cane tucked into his elbow, he scans the path ahead as he idly slides the bracelet around his wrist. Craning his head toward her with the raise of a brow, the butcher’s smile curves a little flat – a little deadpan – to hear the tone of her voice and the image she crafts with her face. “Hmm.. Vox?” Comes the tease, before he’s chuckling a rich, accented thing, shooting her an easier smile. “Maea?” The two would elicit the same response from the butcher, at least.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

Fool me once, fool me twice
Are you death or paradise?

Although not wholly convinced of Jack's prowess, she trusts Asta enough to respect his personal assessment, and the warning in his eyes. Humming in contemplation, she flicks her own tail as she glances behind them again. "Hm. I'll keep that in mind." Whether they find themselves on the same or opposite sides, it would be nice to know more about the man, but she has other people to complain about right now. 

Thal scoffs, shaking her head. "If only." Her words sound almost sincere, like she actually would prefer the spokesperson of the Family to make an appearance on her ship; but it doesn't last long as she flashes her fangs with distaste. "Yep. Came to 'apologize,' but started with some sob story. It sounded a lot more like she was trying to convince me to understand something than apologize - not that it really matters anymore." Her hand comes out to flick dismissively. She doesn't care anymore. Because unlike before, she's not in short supply of 'friends.' 

Shrugging her shoulders, Thal recalls the tale of their recent meeting, her voice layered with a biting tone. "I gave her the choice to leave or participate in the age-old ritual of earning a second chance - or in her case, fourth - by facing the captain, me. I'm sure you can guess which one she chose." Being Maea, they both know she's too stubborn to back down, especially when she's fixated on something, like getting someone to forgive her. 

"You should have seen her face when I landed a solid punch to her kidney." Her laugh has a hint of cruelty in it, wishing Asta could have been a witness to the exchange. "I think that's when she realized I was serious about killing her." There's barely a hint of remorse in her face, all wicked delight and dismissive nature that curls at her lips. The pain of weeks before is nowhere to be seen, secured behind a purple lock that she has no desire to touch.

Now you'll never see me cry
There's just no time to die

Thalassa

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

If only is an intriguing wording - but he knows her enough to know her sarcasm ran well and deep, so he chooses to take it as such. That Vox’s appearance would be easier to stomach than his true guess. And while they walk - and as he feels the soft brush of his charred pant legs against his legs - his attention focuses on her and the distaste leaking from her like a squid losing ink.

“That sounds like her.” The murmur is gentle, not to interject or dissuade Thalassa’s experience in dealing with Maea, but that whenever the pale Ancient seemed to get near enough to an apology, it turns into a victim arc that the butcher can’t stand. In his mind, he could and often was a monster. But he owned those portions unashamedly. What he didn’t like was being considered a monster when he was actively being considerate.

Nodding to hear that she’d offered another chance to start it off with a fight, well, he’d be lying if the curve of his lips weren’t somewhat amused by the outcome. She’d take the bait, as she always did, and when Thal confirms his suspicions in mentioning she’d gotten a punch to her kidney, the low husky laugh leaves the butcher as he sighs and peers ahead into the din. “I do wish I could have seen it. Did she try to call off the fight after that?” He asks, craning his horned head back over toward Thalassa, the amusement palpable in the dark ochre of his eyes.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

Fool me once, fool me twice
Are you death or paradise?

Scoffing, she shoots Asta a knowing look. "Of course not. She's too delusional for even her survival instincts to override." Like a cockroach, she doesn't seem to die despite every situation she finds herself in, the ones she makes by being so set in her ways, convinced that words might change people. 

As for how everything ended, a small growl rumbles in her chest, remembering the damage to her ship that had sent her on quite the rampage. "At the cost of some wood on The Marauder - and a few people's lives - Maea bought herself an excuse to end the fight early. Plus, it wasn't as fun when she started accusing me of abandoning her." She rolls her eyes, still disbelieving that the woman had the audacity. Luckily, her old feelings of failure and guilt don't flair, and she has the freedom to let her anger run free. 

Thal tilts her head to meet his gaze, a glint of satisfaction bright in their blue depths. "At least I was able to draw some blood. Might have even broken her nose."

Now you'll never see me cry
There's just no time to die

Thalassa

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

Chuckling to her perception, his agreement is evident in the sigh and the roll of his eyes. But to hear that the damage hadn’t been purely contained to their bodies and emotions and that the Marauder was also hit, a flare of anger zings through the butcher’s flicking tail as he glances over at her to see and feel her own rage from it. His nose wrinkles in distaste, trajectory shifting while he walks to brush his elbow against her in a soft little nudge. “Will you make her fix the damage?” He asks curiously, despite not blaming her if she didn’t want to see Maea again because of it.

But satisfaction curls in the ocean of her eyes and he picks up on it quickly with the dark honey of his own. “Good.” Comes the easy praise, his own satisfied smirk blooming on his face. “Not enough, I am sure, however she will certainly have time to lick her wounds.” He sighs as if the cycle will continue — lick her wounds, apologize, harm more, lick her wounds, apologize, harm more. “Do you think she will reach out again?”

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

Fool me once, fool me twice
Are you death or paradise?

Her anger doesn't reach the same peak as it might have before, now that it's shared with someone. She chuckles at the question and the light bump of her arm, finding the whole thing so absurd that she can't help it. "Hell no. I don't want her anywhere near my ship." The sharp flick of her own tail implies that there will be dangerous consequences if Maea dares to board. Most likely the death she's threatened on multiple occasions. 

As for the Ancient's current injuries, Thal shares in Asta's smile. "I hope it hurts for a while." At least until her ship is repaired. Or longer. She can't say she wishes for less suffering, or to see her again anytime soon. So when his question lands, it's met with a similar level of thinly veiled disgust. "If she does, she better have a damned good reason." Like 'I died.' 

Looking up at Asta, she raises a teasing grin laced with serious undertones. "You haven't heard from her, right?" Besides their recent interaction of course. Thal would hate to hear that she wasn't the only one Maea was harassing.

Now you'll never see me cry
There's just no time to die

Thalassa

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

“Understandable.” The butcher agrees with a low chuckle of his own – mirroring her ocean wave amusement, pretty to hear, deadly if you aren’t paying attention. As for Maea’s cycle of injuries, the butcher inclines his head to that, glancing up to the darkening sky as they walk as if he might be able to track the stars again. “Mm it will, until she manages to figure out a way to make it everyone else’s fault.” It’s an idle thought – brought on by the fact she had sent the letter seasons ago to him asking to apologize and he’d never once reached out.

But he’d heard how badly she wanted to apologize and the butcher didn’t care to hear it.

Not that it seemed to matter. His tail flicks with the same frustration as Thalassa’s own, he inclines his head down toward her with a dramatic groan in the face of her teasing-yet-serious grin. “As a matter of fact, I have.” He says flatly, his accent thicker as he drawls. “She forced her apology on me in the midst of Flora’s party.”

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

Fool me once, fool me twice
Are you death or paradise?

"You could say that again." And again. And again. They could say it until they turned to stone, and it wouldn't change a thing. Thal had learned it the hard way, but she's starting to get it. The violet lean of her thoughts helps with that, making her care just a little less about preserving such a friendship. 

His flicking tail and subsequent groan are not what she wants to hear. Having been too busy with her job (if that's what piracy can be called) to attend the party, Thal is suddenly very angry she missed it. A growling hiss bubbles from her chest, a searing heat of anger that carries to her eyes as she looks to Asta. "Seriously?! I hope you slapped her. Hard." Even if he didn't, she'd settle for a stern word or two. Something to put Maea in her place. 

Rolling her eyes, she shifts a little closer as they walk to provide that unspoken support that always seems to exist between them. "How bad was it? Did she lament about her past or beg your forgiveness?"

Now you'll never see me cry
There's just no time to die

Thalassa

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

He hears her hiss before he can see the flare of it in her ocean of her eyes. Snorting, he shakes his head, lamenting the idea. He’d wanted to do so much more. Burn the whole Hanged Man down if he had his way. But it was Flora’s party, and that energy he’d harbored from the sudden surprise of Maea’s apology that had sent him into a fiery rage had been converted into… Well, giving Flora quite the gift.

She slips closer and Asta remains at her side for the added support when he glances ahead to speak of the night. “Mm, well, it was relatively short. She apologized for the way she treated me and the things she said about me. Said she was wrong and that she would not do it again.” And that was it, because it was all Asta could do to get himself out of the situation. “I had half a mind to tell her I could not hear her.” But she’d known he had with the way his eyes turned into black, volcanic rock as her words sank in.

“Instead, I told her that it was my choice to reach out to her to receive the apology – as per the letter she’d sent. I reminded her that it was neither my choice nor the appropriate time to hear it just so she may enjoy the event with a clear conscience.” He drawls, gaze flitting back over toward Thalassa with a small twitch of a smirk on his face. “And then I left for a booth with Danta.” Leaving Maea to listen to his words and indulge in a few too many drinks, he’s sure.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

Fool me once, fool me twice
Are you death or paradise?

Thal is what some might call an 'active listener,' her sneers, wicked smiles, and quiet scoffs letting Asta know exactly what she thinks about the interaction. None of it particularly surprises her. She still would have liked to be present, but she knows that the Butcher can take care of himself, even if she might have preferred a different method (for those who haven't figured it out yet: violence).

Shrugging her shoulders, she bumps against him playfully, a teasing grin on her face. "You were much more civil than I would have been." Flora might be her superior in the Thieves Guild, but she wouldn't hesitate to make a scene at her farewell party in defense of her friend.

Amongst the fire of her own violet tinged anger and annoyance, something softer still exists for the Butcher, a worry for more than just his physical wellbeing. Tilting her head at him, she scans his face like she might one of her sailors after a hard skirmish. "How did you feel? Seeing her again after so long?" Her tone isn't as gentle or traditionally 'concerned' as most people's might be - sounding more aloof than anything else - but the fact that she asks at all is a testament to their friendship.

Now you'll never see me cry
There's just no time to die

Thalassa

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

Her expressions certainly give him an idea of what her thoughts are during the conversation, without the interjection others might have – so when she bumps against him playfully, the low rumble of a laugh escapes him as he inclines his head with a soft little sigh. “I promised I would not make a scene.” He laments, even if he’s sure Flora wouldn’t have cared too much. It would have absolutely ruined the vibe of the party if he’d sunk his teeth in the way he wished to.

He can feel her eyes on him before her follow up question – and given how close they are now, the butcher finds it easy to respond to her with the truth of the ordeal. “I have seen her out and about randomly here and there, so that I was used to. But… When she came to speak to me directly I was, mm… angry. I had done nothing to promote wanting to speak to her aside from being in the same building.” He drawls with a sigh, his horned head angling down to let his dark gaze linger on Thalassa. “I ended up getting a bit sloppy with my liquor after.” His shoulder rises and falls, as if it were just another day.

It wasn’t, though. It wasn’t often the butcher got sloppy drunk. In fact, he can count a grand total of maybe five times it had happened?

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life