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?
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
