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