you broke me and left these pieces

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

Pierce was different. She says, and it takes everything in him to not tell her it’s solely because the Family got their claws into her, that sure, the brawler might have found her interesting before the infection, but after? She was everything. And when he got her fixed — because the butcher would heal her — she’d see it too. But for now, he can placate. He can be the brother or fatherly advice that it seems she needs right now, supportive and caring and ready to tear through anyone else tangible that’s made her feel so inferior that she needs Pierce to tell her what to do and what is right.

It grinds against him, even as he offers her all the help that he can, shifting his words into poetry and optimism instead of the pessimistic outlook that vibrates under his skin. “I know it does, darling.” And he gets it, too. Danta and he had their rough patch where they were unable to admit anything to one another and the interim time had been terrible for the both of them.

So when she asks how, and their foreheads are pressed together, he reaches up to try and tame some of her dark hair around her horns, withdrawing enough to view her fully as he fusses over her. “You start small. And you allow your friends to help you.” He murmurs softly, cupping her cheek gently. “I am here to help you.”

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Thalassa

His words soothe as much as his hands. The broken sections don't quite fit together yet, but she knows he's willing to help arrange the jagged pieces with her, to look at the ugly truths they reflect and slice their hands on the edges in the process - all so that she can one day be whole again, so that the emptiness might not feel like a black hole consuming her every thought. 

Her head moves in another small nod, her cheek rubbing against his palm. Blue meets brown in quiet understanding that's framed by the pain that pinches her features. "You - " She hesitates, knowing that what she's about to ask is going to sound weak and childish and desperate, but needing to hear his answer all the same. Biting at her lip, a beat passes before the words take form. "You won't leave me, will you?" Despite the words he's said and his presence in front of her, the doubt holds, having been so rusting of others. 

Her head shakes before he can answer, uncertain she'd survive if he said no, her voice cracking softly as she adds, "I can't lose you too." She may tease him about getting injured in stupid ways and needing babysitters, but they're rooted in the dark truth that Thal can't imagine life without him now. He's weaseled his way into her heart with a disturbing level of manners, unfazed by the blacked pieces he finds as he craves his name with sharp teeth and wit. Other than Pierce, she's not sure anyone else will ever be able to accept her like that. Maea hadn't. Vesper hadn't. Thal knows she's not easy to like, but that doesn't mean the rejection hurts any less, and she needs to know that he won't betray her like that - that he won't turn from her when her thoughts get too dark.

Walk with me to the end
Stare with me into the abyss

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

She nods and he scans her face with all the intensity of a wolf with a member of their pack, ensuring their health and ability while care lingers deep below the surface. He’s silent as she starts, not wanting to interrupt even when she says you. He remains silent until he’s finished, until she’s shaking her head and letting the worst of her fears escape her, of which the butcher’s brows lift ever so slightly, a shark toothed smile gracing his face.

“Oh, darling.” The butcher hums, all sharp teeth on display as he smiles at her, confidence and arrogance on full display. “I am afraid you are stuck with me, through the good and the bad.” Because while he’d seen her dark and her lowest points, she had seen a majority of his. And while she hadn’t exactly seen him in action with his cannibalism, she’d been there to see his panic with the gore crows, to hear his history and why he is the way that he is.

And even with knowing about his preferences, the Marauder’s captain hadn’t shied away from him. Hadn’t shunned him in the way that Maea had. Hadn’t told him essentially that his existence was wrong. So if she thinks she can get rid of him so easily, that he might find some fault in her? She’s wrong.

His hand tips down to her chin, thumb brushing along her jaw as he scans her face, the both of them drenched in the rain. “You do not have to fear losing me. I am not going anywhere.”

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Thalassa

His reassurance is so characteristically him that she can't not believe him. The sharp teeth and swagger are too much like a threat that he intends to keep, one that she's grateful to receive. And then that gentleness that follows - the promise of safety and security on his lips - carefully pulls at the strands of her fear until she's able to shove aside most of her doubts for the moment, pushing them back down into the darkness where they've always lived. As she reaches the depths of her emotions, she brushes against her fiery snark that wants to give him a fanged grin back, to stake her claim on Asta and never let him go no matter who threatens their friendship. But it's too heavy to carry up and too light for the seriousness she feels, the edges of her lips still dragged down by the pain and sorrow. All she can manage is another tiny nod, the tightening of her features loosening in his grasp so that only the sharp glint of hurt remains in her eyes. 

Another shiver wreaks through her body, feeble and weak. With her biggest fear assuaged, the unknown number of days spent numb are finally catching up with her. Asta's warm hands stave off some of the chill, but her body aches and there's a new crushing exhaustion that graciously dampens some of her pains. Leaning forward, she folds into him without a sound, other than the soft admission, "Asta, I'm... tired."

Walk with me to the end
Stare with me into the abyss

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

It is a threat, one that he will keep. Because even though he’d done his best to try and avoid the void and any of those in contact with them — given what’s happened to the Grounds during LongNight and everything that’s happened with Flora, he’s still here. Still trying to help Thalassa where he can, because he cares about the Captain. He wants the best for her. And for those of them that are often outcast, Astaroth will certainly cling to it.

But she comes back into herself, he can see it despite her not saying anything. The way the pain and hurt becomes bottled up again, easier to manage, a smaller space within her that it takes up. And she becomes exhausted, enough that the butcher can feel the shiver that races down her spine, sparking a flicker of fire that blooms across her cheek and hair, trying her without harming the necklace she holds nor the clothes she wears. “May I take you home?” He asks, scanning her face, wondering if she’d rather stand and walk or let him carry her.

Hell, she could ride his Feirw shift if she wanted to have the semblance of control. He doesn’t mind.

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Thalassa

The tired heaviness of her limbs only gets worse as she files away the pain like something she'll reference later when there's light to read the damning words. Right now, she can't think of much more than the desire to curl up and sleep for a long time, someplace warm and safe - perhaps inside a fire or a river of lava. There's the inkling of a thought that wonders if it has to do with the new shape she'd taken on, but thoughts like those are too taxing when the weight of her eyelids feel unbearable.

Her nod is tiny, barely a tip of her head that she doesn't stop. She won't voice that he can carry her, the pride and exhaustion proving too much for her to say the words, but there's permission in the way she lingers, curled close to his chest for more than just the heat he brushes against her cheek. She only manages to mutter softly as she shrinks a little smaller. "I lost track of where I was..." In more ways than one, but she's not sure if she'd be able to find her way home right now, worried that the thoughts required to do so would reopen the wounds that have been hastily cauterized by Asta's presence.

Walk with me to the end
Stare with me into the abyss

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

“You are not far, darling.” Asta confirms, keeping her close when she lingers, the understanding and permission offered in the way she lingers in his arms. So the butcher extinguishes the fire momentarily if only to tug her a bit closer, slipping an arm underneath her back and her legs to hoist her up against his chest. From this proximity, each rough scarring of his chest is felt immensely with the jostle, though as always Astaroth pays it little mind.

Instead, he gets his feet underneath him, rising to his full height, keeping her close as he lifts her and hoists her to turn back toward the webbing pathways of the forest they’d wound up in. The smoldering lightning struck tree continues to sizzle as they walk past, but the butcher’s now placed a shield of flame above them to keep the rain from soaking the both of them further while also offering heat. An umbrella of fire, hot and sizzling with each raindrop as he takes note of the area and utilizing long and old abilities to be able to scout out which one will take her home.

So on the march they go, dark eyes scanning the forest for any predators that might wish to try and make a scene, though it seems Astaroth’s general aggression appears to have warded them away. “We shall get you home and dried off and tucked in. How does that sound?” He continues to walk as his gaze drops down to scan her face.

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Thalassa

She doesn't protest or tense as he lifts her, only curling her arms in tighter to keep them from getting pinned against his chest, the necklace securely in her grasp. Her breathing has relaxed by the time she feels the scars pressing through his shirt, the warmth encompassing her like a security blanket she didn't know she needed. Even as she closes her eyes, she knows it's Asta, the scent of leather and smoke as much a giveaway as the accented voice that soothes her with reassurance and beautiful suggestions that have her humming quietly in approval. 

She hears the sizzle of rain on fire as she thinks about sleep and finding some semblance of comfort despite the ache still eating at her chest. Thal lets out a low, bone-tired sigh that flows into quiet mutters that almost sound like sleep-talking. "I think I need a drink too. Something strong." Although she doubts she could drink enough to fill the hole, or find anything strong enough to erase the memories. That doesn't mean she's not willing to try.

Walk with me to the end
Stare with me into the abyss

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

Asta keeps her close even as she tucks in, not worried about the possibility of losing his balance while he carries her through the trees and rain soaked undergrowth, keeping his eyes on the path they take and scouting for anything that might prove to want to be a problem. Thankfully, nothing does, and as they emerge with their umbrella of flame, the butcher’s path turns toward the left, heading back toward Thalassa’s home. “I am sure we can arrange that, darling.” It’s a soft confirmation, keeping her close as he reaches her door.

The flame disperses under the cover of her porch, and he jostles her only slightly to get her through the door into the familiar dark warmth of her home. A thought of his magic sparks the fire in the fireplace, roaring and warm immediately, shrouding her home in oranges and reds, glinting from the knives strewn about. “Let us get you settled.” The shadowy friend that typically accompanies him joins in on the attempts as he sets her down carefully in one of her chairs while his shadow smiles at her in as comforting of a grin as it could feasibly do.

Drawing up to his full height, he snags a strong whiskey on the shelf he’d seen her grab before, snagging a glass at the same time that he fills a knuckles worth and returns to her side to hand her the glittering rocks glass. “Now, what else can I do?” His gaze is uncharacteristically soft as he peers at her, before he looks back around her home.

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Thalassa

The familiarity of her home is another balm, an embrace of safety that pulls again at that string of tension to unravel it further; from the smell of whiskey and smoke to the glint of daggers in the dim firelight, she starts to feel a little more like herself. It doesn't bring Pierce back, or fill that void, but it makes the pain more bearable. She isn't as lost, adrift in the world. 

When Asta lowers her to the chair, Thal doesn't change positions much, trading his scarred chest for the back of the cushioned chair, her feet tucking under to keep her legs propped close to her - boots and all. The damp of her clothes seeps into the seat's fabric, but she only partially acknowledges it with a shift of her shoulders, settling deeper into the chair. Her eyes look from the fire to Asta as he crouches next to her, glancing briefly at the dark smile. She reaches slowly forward to accept the glass with a silent nod of appreciation, not looking at the drink. Instead, her eyes rest gently on him, a slight embarrassment peeking through as she hesitantly answers, "Just... stay with me?"

She pauses before looking back to the flames, resting her head on her knees, recalling the last time she'd asked someone not to leave. Thal feels her concentration already slipping, treading dangerously close to the wounds that have only just stopped hemorrhaging. The ache starts again, and she closes her eyes against the thoughts that rise. "Tell me something... anything." A soft plea that has the flames flickering gently on her cheeks, doing nothing to disguise the subtle anguish of her expression.

Walk with me to the end
Stare with me into the abyss

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

He crouches beside her, his hand resting on the arm of the chair as he offers her the glass, watching with dark eyes glinting with the reflection of the fire with hints of concern as she takes the glass from him slowly. Not with her usual swagger and pride, but something fragile and small. And when she speaks next, he nods his horned head ever so slightly. “I can’t stay all night, but I can stay with you for a time.” He murmurs, his accent thick as is the slant of the apology that finds its way into both his smile and his shadow’s.

She settles in the chair and Astaroth stands back up, leaning back against the table she’s sat beside, using it as leverage to start to relax. His hands at his sides, pressing into the wood easily as he glances over toward the fire as if trying to debate what to talk to her about. “Mm, well. Evidently my lovely deer shift has side effects this season.” He comments, tilting his attention back toward her with a roguish smile, his tail flicking idly at his heels.

Hopefully that conversation is distracting enough for her to not have to worry about everything else for a time.

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Thalassa

The disappointment is hard to miss as it pulls at her features and glistens in her eyes. She knows it's a lot to ask, and she can't be surprised that he won't stay, but that small inkling of fear remains, the one that says he'll leave her just like Pierce and never come back. The fact that she's going to be alone with this gaping hole that seems to have swallowed all her energy and motivations. 

But she can't expect him to stay. Asta has work and other people to tend to, and as much as Thal wants to be selfish and beg him to keep her company until the pain stops, she doesn't know how long that will be. He doesn't deserve to be chained to her right now - not when she's so weak, feeling lost and useless. So Thal just nods in quiet understanding, cradling her drink close as she stares into the flames again, doing her best not to fall back into despair. 

The shift in conversation does manage to distract her for a moment, pulling her attention from the ache pounding in her chest. Her eyes move to find his, the tiniest glint of concern and curiosity peeking through the unfocused haze of discomfort. "How so?"

Walk with me to the end
Stare with me into the abyss

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

Luckily for her, he’d be that never ending shadow in the corner that when she deigned to go and visit the Grounds, would haunt her every step. Not that he thinks she’d mind given the state of things. She does not need to fear his departure, even if he could not stay for the night, but he could stay a little while longer.

That, and he would not be hard to find.

So he sips from his drink, offering distraction in favor for his own misfortune. “Mm, well, an incredible drive to be overprotective. I constantly wish to spar. And given that we are friends, it has delved into a large uptick in my libido.” Comes the weary sigh that is anything but, given the season.

Any other time, though, and the butcher would have certainly been far too exhausted by any of those events to persist.

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Thalassa

Her eyes watch him more attentively than before, not finding it as difficult to focus when it's concerning Asta and his well-being. She even manages to take a small sip of her drink, although it's slow and distracted. The flavors aren't as strong, bathing her tongue in the amber liquid without giving her the satisfaction of a searing burn, dampened by the numbness still hanging on her limbs. Despite how much she wants to fill the hollowness with alcohol and wipe away the memories, it feels like a futile effort that she doesn't have the energy to pursue. 

Thal lowers her glass again, tipping her head to lean it against the cushioned back of her chair as he speaks. As much as she finds his explanation somewhat amusing, her shadowed attempt at a smile doesn't land quite right, her voice more flat than playful when she says, "Doesn't sound all that different from how I usually feel." Now being an exception of course. 

The frown is easier to make, her brows furrowing over the icy blue of her eyes. "Does it bother you?"

Walk with me to the end
Stare with me into the abyss