you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
Seeing her head snap up at the realization that it was an intentional thing to leave out – it’s almost satisfying, seeing the way her raven dark hair cascades about as she shakes her head, spotting that dangerous smile that’s met with one of his own. “As most people would, I imagine. I was quite tame.” Especially considering everything that had happened. But as she refills her glass, he downs his and snags the bottle the second she puts it down and asks the question, and honestly – this bout of trust between them, their friendship, has him more than eager to explain his side of things.
“She wanted to talk to me after. To apologize for a misunderstanding and claim that we could find a compromise. That compromise was to exile the criminals like Halo does, except, it was to send them through the bonfire to the Climb in exile.” He lets this heavy weight drop, because it is – albeit a bit more tame – but exactly the same punishment that the butcher had endured that had given him all of his scars. “Which, given what you know of me and my history of becoming Ancient, was not a good answer to give.”
Snorting, he pauses to take a sip of the bourbon before he shifts a little in his seat, fixing his posture slightly so that it’s even straighter as he recalls that day. “She did not know fully, then, and I told her, and while it wasn’t my finest moment it brought me into a mania recalling it.” Here his jaw sets, a pause as his gaze flits to the amber liquid in the glass, heaving a soft sigh. “She did apologize, and while it felt like everything was crumbling I just.. Ran. It was safer that way.” Better than him having his crisis and taking a bite out of her, at least, or whomever crossed his path first.
“So I ran from Jack Tar into the surrounding forests, found an outcrop within them and hid away. I was only my fyrhund at that moment when she appeared in her tiger shift and, because I felt cornered, attacked.” It was his instinct, both in his fyrhund shift and in his human form – unable to stand the idea of being bound or trapped again. But it hadn’t worked. “She remained and so I attacked again. And that time she slammed me down against the ground with her paw. Now, mind you, I had only been awake for… mm.. a few seasons I believe, so I was not as strong as I had once been. And she was far stronger than me.” His nose wrinkles and fire plays at the tips of his fingers, one indicator amongst others that it still pissed him off.
Tilting his head slightly one way before the other, he recalls it further. “We went like that a few times, until I was too hurt I could no longer lunge but was still manic. I shifted back, unable to speak well enough or admittedly move that much, and asked her why she followed me. Evidently she did not wish for me to go through it alone and that she cared despite the very clear indicator that I had assuming we were not friends any longer. I reminded her she called me a monster and she had the gall to say that she called me it because she was afraid of being called it herself. And that she took it out on me because I was an easy target.” He feels as if he’s talking her ear off now, but he can’t stop – not when the crux of the story finally comes to a close. “She asked me, then, if I would stop her if it seemed as if she was starting to slip and I told her I would kill her. She then told me to go ahead.” Rolling his eyes – because what kind of answer was that when he could hardly move at the time? “So I left her there. Limped myself here to recover.” To the Sparkbird's Nest to be exact.
And in that moment it was precisely the time that the butcher fell in love with the place, the storms and the beauty of the chaos. Precisely the reason why he’d suggested it to Thalassa when she’d asked. Because if it had helped him after all of that, perhaps it could help her find a place to call home.
“She wanted to talk to me after. To apologize for a misunderstanding and claim that we could find a compromise. That compromise was to exile the criminals like Halo does, except, it was to send them through the bonfire to the Climb in exile.” He lets this heavy weight drop, because it is – albeit a bit more tame – but exactly the same punishment that the butcher had endured that had given him all of his scars. “Which, given what you know of me and my history of becoming Ancient, was not a good answer to give.”
Snorting, he pauses to take a sip of the bourbon before he shifts a little in his seat, fixing his posture slightly so that it’s even straighter as he recalls that day. “She did not know fully, then, and I told her, and while it wasn’t my finest moment it brought me into a mania recalling it.” Here his jaw sets, a pause as his gaze flits to the amber liquid in the glass, heaving a soft sigh. “She did apologize, and while it felt like everything was crumbling I just.. Ran. It was safer that way.” Better than him having his crisis and taking a bite out of her, at least, or whomever crossed his path first.
“So I ran from Jack Tar into the surrounding forests, found an outcrop within them and hid away. I was only my fyrhund at that moment when she appeared in her tiger shift and, because I felt cornered, attacked.” It was his instinct, both in his fyrhund shift and in his human form – unable to stand the idea of being bound or trapped again. But it hadn’t worked. “She remained and so I attacked again. And that time she slammed me down against the ground with her paw. Now, mind you, I had only been awake for… mm.. a few seasons I believe, so I was not as strong as I had once been. And she was far stronger than me.” His nose wrinkles and fire plays at the tips of his fingers, one indicator amongst others that it still pissed him off.
Tilting his head slightly one way before the other, he recalls it further. “We went like that a few times, until I was too hurt I could no longer lunge but was still manic. I shifted back, unable to speak well enough or admittedly move that much, and asked her why she followed me. Evidently she did not wish for me to go through it alone and that she cared despite the very clear indicator that I had assuming we were not friends any longer. I reminded her she called me a monster and she had the gall to say that she called me it because she was afraid of being called it herself. And that she took it out on me because I was an easy target.” He feels as if he’s talking her ear off now, but he can’t stop – not when the crux of the story finally comes to a close. “She asked me, then, if I would stop her if it seemed as if she was starting to slip and I told her I would kill her. She then told me to go ahead.” Rolling his eyes – because what kind of answer was that when he could hardly move at the time? “So I left her there. Limped myself here to recover.” To the Sparkbird's Nest to be exact.
And in that moment it was precisely the time that the butcher fell in love with the place, the storms and the beauty of the chaos. Precisely the reason why he’d suggested it to Thalassa when she’d asked. Because if it had helped him after all of that, perhaps it could help her find a place to call home.
Astaroth
fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart
