you broke me and left these pieces

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

Happy to help be the distraction, the butcher sips from his drink as he lets the changes and adjustments in this shift settle, letting her mull it around. And when she flashes that shadowed attempt of a smile, he can read between the lines of it. She wants to offer him the sharp quick wit smiles but can’t, and that’s okay. Because she’s at least trying to. And when she offers the comment of how it sounds like how she typically is, the butcher’s soft chuckle leaves him as he nods his head.

It’s how most people are, as far as he knows. He’s.. Different, though. And he always had been. And with her follow up question, he sees the concern spark and the deep frown that sits on her face and he shakes his head immediately to alleviate any fears or worries. “It does not bother me much. It is just… Difficult to get used to, I suppose.” He hums thoughtfully, leaning back and stretching out his long legs. “It is a lot of feelings I am not used to having all at once, so I am sure you can imagine it is taking me time to manage well.” His smile is a touch sharper, as is his shadow where it hovers beside Thalassa.

Astaroth

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

Thalassa

The familiarity of his chuckle is like a refreshing breeze through the hollow cavern of her chest, rustling the cobwebs and dust that feel cemented over the mausoleum of her emotions. Her stiff shoulders ease slightly, letting the warmth of the flames and Asta's presence guide her gently from the darkness and all the thoughts that came with it. Her fingers still clutch to the pendant, but there's more direction in her gaze, a presence that wasn't there before. 

It falls on the shadow that seems to match Asta's smile, hovering over it briefly before returning to his face and the expression that says more than his words. She sympathizes with him. After all, her joke had been based in truth, self-aware enough to know that she is often swimming in a sea of emotions that overwhelm and crash against each other, that she feels more than she'd like to admit. If he's not used to that, she can only imagine how disorienting it must be. Although she could say the same for how she feels now, devoid of an entire section that had once been so active and full of input, leaving her underwhelmed by her own impulses.

Glancing into her glass, Thal blinks as if she's debating taking another sip before lifting her eyes to him again. "I didn't realize shifts could have that effect..." Her thoughts skim over the striped fur and unfamiliar senses that he'd found her wrapped in, her eyes narrowing as she tries to piece together information through the jumbled thoughts that feel obscured by fog and fragments of jagged emotions. "Is it permanent?"

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

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

Astaroth understands what that’s like, too, often hiding any true emotions behind the suave and easy smiles that came so naturally to him. Only the select few had seen him without the typical swagger, and between them all she had helped him get through the gore crow massacre he needed to do in order to contain his nightmares into something that could no longer affect him.

So it’s the least he can do to be her with her now, even if he can’t stay the night. He sips from his drink, downing it faster than she does hers, though the butcher doesn’t think it’s odd. Sometimes a drink sounded better than it was. Sometimes the burn didn’t hit right or the elevated beauty that would be being drunk becomes more like a prison than it does anything relieving.

So there’s zero judgement when she asks her question, the butcher shaking his he’d before he lifts a hand to rake through the dark hair, tucking them neatly behind the multitude of tines that have sprouted from his skull. “It is not. Evidently it shall be over when Deepfrost comes around.” He hums softly. “My other shifts effect me differently, however. My Fyrhund makes it so I prefer to sleep in as close to a den-like atmosphere as I can get.” Chuckling softly, he continues. “That has always been permanent.” This shift, though, new as it was, had become quite the learning curve.

Astaroth

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

Thalassa

Thal gives a slow nod of understanding, slightly distracted by Asta's words and what they mean. She's never noticed any inclinations caused by her lava wyrm shift, except perhaps the general Ancient traits of liking to bathe in flames and characteristic mischief; and when her lyvern shift appeared, it just seemed to embody everything she's always been, fierce and unable to be held down. But it makes her wonder what this new shift means and what it might entail for her - or worse: what it says about her.

The blue of her gaze drifts towards the fire, drawn by the warmth and the lull of inanimate flickering. It quiets her thoughts, rocking them into silence and pushing them just beneath the swell of exhaustion. She's aware of the damning thoughts floating under the surface, where she'll be forced to face them in the light of the morning; but her eyelids grow heavy, weighted by the draining of all her stores, feeling like everything has been emptied and the dregs scraped dry, everything too raw for her to handle right now. Each blink grows longer, her breathing slowing as she's finally wrestled down by the neglect and ignoring of her basic needs - not a peaceful calm, but something drained and inevitable like gravity seizing a bird that's flown too long, threatening to pull them crashing to the ground. 

She fights it, dreading whatever dreams may come when her guard lowers, and knowing that Asta wouldn't be there when she woke again to the aching hollowness. Thal squeezes her eyes closed, a pang of hatred tightening her hold on the glass and the pendant - hatred for herself and how she's ended up in this situation. Her jaw clenches as her subconscious looks for reasoning through the fog, unable to grasp anything in her tired state, but convinced that it must be her.

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

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

His heart aches for her as he watches her - even if his tone of voice seems light and easy, the explanation rolling off of his tongue. It’s hard for him to see her like this and he’s sure it’s even harder for her to let him see her like this. And while, any other time, he might have said fuck it and ensured he’d stayed with her through the night, the changes in his attitude and behavior from the Feirw make it virtually impossible for him to feel comfortable being away from home for too long, especially without knowing if Danta was okay.

So instead, he draws quiet and watches her as she draws silent and exhausted, and the butcher takes the moment to down the rest of the liquor in the glass, raising the flame of the fireplace higher. “Let us get you to bed, darling. You may be so exhausted you will not dream. And in the morning, if you are still feeling just as dreadful, you can come and see me in the Dusklight?” That way she wouldn’t be alone. “You could stay in my old room if you would prefer.” And he could keep an eye on her along with an eye on Danta, alleviate both of his problems at once.

Either way, the butcher shifts to stand and step over toward her chair, crouching with a crackle of his knees as he blinks up at her, his shadow moving to slink over to his side with a sharp grin of agreement as if he could convince her to if the butcher couldn’t.

Astaroth

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

Thalassa

Asta's voice breaks through the haze, her jaw unclenching in the momentary distraction that might have been a startle if she wasn't so tired. The cacophony of thoughts dim, set behind a shear curtain within view like she's peeked her head back out of a smoke-filled private booth to see what's disturbed her self-loathing.

"I - " she pauses, her gaze refocusing on him. There's comfort to be found in the familiar brown of his eyes that are more grounding than any soil she could sink her feet into, the cocky grin of his shadow like an extra hand rail to guide her. Any arguments die on her lips, tasting bitter against the lingering alcohol on her tongue and the begrudging acceptance that she'll have to face sleep sooner or later. She might as well do so from the comforts of her bed with Asta to lead the charge. And if the morning is too unbearable, she need just seek him out, helping to solidify the decision. 

Her head nods slowly in acknowledgement. Thal shifts in the chair, fingers still stubbornly clutched around her necklace. She belatedly realizes that her glass occupies her other hand, her body moving like sludge as she reaches to place it on the side table. Her damp clothes have partially dried, but she doesn't notice the rough scrape of the material, an exhausted kind of numbness having settled in to disconnect her from her limbs.

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

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

He hesitates when she pauses, as if unsure whether or not to let himself try and plan her night for her. But he knows, deep down, it’s for the best. He can’t promise to stay, but he can promise a way for her to come and spend time with him where he doesn’t have to abandon her so fully. And as such, a plan already made for the butcher to ensure that when she does wake up that she knows she’s not alone, even if she is.

And a reminder for himself to try and find one of those roses or lilies to heal her, if only so maybe the hurt from Pierce won’t be as sharp. Besides, she’d still have that new necklace that she’s clutching like a lifeline.

But then she gives her permission and the butcher and his shadow smile a beaming one down to her. He reaches up to help her deposit the glass onto the side table, before he’s invading her space to hoist her back up - clutching her against his rough chest as he steps over toward her bed, hoping that some semblance of heat from himself and the fireplace can dry out the rest of her clothes. And when he sets her in the bed, he adjusts the blankets to wrap around her, tucking her in before he sits on the edge of it, reaching up gently to brush her hair behind her ear and out of her face, untangling it gently from her horn. “I am here for you, Thalassa. You are my most favored Captain and I am infinitely pleased to be able to call you my friend. Which, once again, means that you are fortunately stuck with me. And I shall have you know that I am quite difficult to get rid of.” His tone is softer, his smiling shadow draping against the covers of the bed, nodding its agreement with Astaroth’s words as the butcher offers his own, gentler but still sharp smile down toward her.

Astaroth

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

Thalassa

She should be more embarrassed, and in the morning she might feel more horrified of her resemblance to an invalid, but Thal only recognizes that Asta is here, that she doesn't need to put up her defenses or put on some fake performance of strength, because she's tired and there's no strength to be found anywhere in her right now and Asta is safe - safe enough for her to melt again into his presence. 

Her hand releases the glass, letting him pull her against him again, the rough scars and smell of leather more noticeable than any warmth or disheveled clothing. Through the faint haze of thoughts that are smothered in heavy eyelids and heavier breaths, there's a brush of familiarity to something she can't recall, a safety and security that she hasn't been able to grasp as an Ancient. It might have saddened her if she wasn't feeling the blankets of the bed wrapping gently in a cocoon around her curled form, her blue eyes fluttering open in a fleeting moment when it shifts under Asta's weight and her knees rock to press against his hip. 

A tight breath releases in a deep sigh, releasing some of the stubborn fear that still claws at her chest. "Thank you, Asta." The words are like fresh pearls on her lips, having been formed under the pressure of recent days and the debris that has rubbed raw against her conscience, only to be revealed to someone cherished and worthy. His fingers running along her scalp and the combination of reassuring smiles and words make the words come easy, like they'd never been meant for anyone else, like no one else might ever deserve them. She sinks a little deeper, feeling the tendrils of sleep already trying to claim her.

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

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

He sits there gently and easily on the edge of the bed, ensuring that he’s tucked her in well enough that the press of blankets might at least be some form of weak cellophane against the holes she feels in her soul. It’s the least he can do, he thinks, given that he can’t stay. And if it had been some other season, he might have been able to make the decision to remain. But for now, well, he does what he can and it seems to be enough.

Her thank you greets him, a surprise that he keeps deftly hidden behind the softer shark-tooth smile he aims her way, his hand smoothing down from her tangle of dark hair to her shoulder where he squeezes her gently. “You are most welcome, darling.” Comes the softer hum, the gentle drum, remaining there at her side until he’s certain she’s fallen asleep. He won't move until he's positive.

Astaroth

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

Thalassa

It's Asta's humming voice that paves the way towards sleep like tendrils of signal smoke, a lullaby of safety, the resonant sound being felt more than heard in the dimming of her mind. Despite the weight of her worries, her exhaustion is heavier, pulling her consciousness deeper into the darkness where the emptiness is a pool of still water that caresses her mind in gentle warmth rather than a tsunami threatening to drown her in the thoughts she's too scared to face. 

The monsters would come in the morning where the sun would cast shadows in the pit that hides the greatest devourer of all: nothing. It would suck and leech like a parasite, a constant reminder of what she's lost - of who she's lost. The light wouldn't make the depression any easier to crawl out of, but she would find small specks of guidance to keep her moving, tiptoeing around the cavern towards the faint glows of reprieve where she might find momentary purpose or distractions. But for now, Thal embraces the fall, a slow descent that has her drifting. Lucid thought steals the tension as it leaves, the lines of her face bleeding into peace. The purse of her lips relax, making room for the deep breaths of sleep that rustle the strands of hair tucked against cheek, forcing her shoulders down from her shoulders and further into the cushion of blankets. Only her hand holds its position, guarding the pendant against her chest like it might be the perfect shape for the hole that lives there now. Luckily, her subconscious holds that watch, the rest of her mind blissfully empty in her slumber, scared off by the Butcher and his shadow sitting sentinel at her side.

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

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

He watches as she sinks into her slumber, as the tense breaths and tightness to her shoulders begin to relax. All notes that she’s falling asleep, but its only when her breaths even out that the butcher’s weight shifts slightly on the bed, keeping his dark gaze on her to ensure that she’s not going to stir awake. And when she doesn’t, Astaroth slowly slips off the bed, tail twitching a touch restlessly at his heels as he quietly makes his way back to the table with his smiling shadow in tow.

Snagging a piece of paper and a quill and ink, the butcher leaves her a note in his sprawling, surprisingly beautiful handwriting. Such that when she wakes up in the morning she’d have the reminder when she read the little card, immediately spotting the ‘I am here for you whenever you need me. If you need me now, come to the Dusklight and find me. - A’

Satisfied with it, he downs the rest of her drink if only so it doesn’t go bad, and slips out the door and closes it snugly behind him. Then, with the restlessness still glittering in his soul, the butcher shifts to his fyrhund shift to head home, trying to burn off as much energy as possible.

- FIN

Astaroth

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