// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
It was almost nice, to be able to see just the edge of the Hollowed Grounds vanishing in the distance. Having no flighted shifts of his own, it was unlikely for the butcher to get this kind of view from this low... well, ever in his life. But it’s that, plus the beautifully adorned stained glass sails and the company that the butcher finds himself wholly at ease – tearing his gaze away from the comforts surrounding them to the woman herself.
“Chai is lovely.” He murmurs with confidence – not that he would complain whether it was chai, or any other kind of tea, to even the roughness of whiskey from the bowels of Halo. “Is that so? Well, I look forward to it.” He tacks on with a playful quip, a wink as he reaches forward to take the chai into his hands, cradling it without fear of burning himself. A sip of chocolate also accompanies the silence, the pulse of the waves as they brush against the hull of the Sugar Tide, the butcher far more relaxed than he thought he would be, this far out at sea.
But when she speaks, she captures his entire attention – his eyes made black by the dark of the night, hair slicked back neatly but flickering in occasional gusts that help push the ship in the direction Flora has chosen. “Of course, darling. I understand.” His accented voice hums, half curved toward her to brace his own elbows on his knees, soaking in the warmth of the thicker clothes he’d worn just in case.
Her tale is one that the butcher finds himself frowning in time and time again, only able to imagine how difficult it was. Given that he’d met Jack so rarely, he doesn’t know the man enough to say much about him. What he does know, is that Flora is hurting and that he’s very much willing to be here with her through it. “Yes.” He starts to say with a soft sigh, head tilting slightly. “You have sacrificed a lot, Flora. And for all of us that admire those that came before us of their own sacrifices, very rarely are the emotions and pain included in it. It takes.. a very strong person to do what it is you’ve done.” Shifting slightly, he offers her a gentle smile of his own, the sharpness dulled down for the gravity of the conversation. “And it is his loss to be unable to see that.” He touts a little proudly, because if Flora was going to be upset and pissed at Jack, he’s ready to join her side in it. What does he have to lose?
“Chai is lovely.” He murmurs with confidence – not that he would complain whether it was chai, or any other kind of tea, to even the roughness of whiskey from the bowels of Halo. “Is that so? Well, I look forward to it.” He tacks on with a playful quip, a wink as he reaches forward to take the chai into his hands, cradling it without fear of burning himself. A sip of chocolate also accompanies the silence, the pulse of the waves as they brush against the hull of the Sugar Tide, the butcher far more relaxed than he thought he would be, this far out at sea.
But when she speaks, she captures his entire attention – his eyes made black by the dark of the night, hair slicked back neatly but flickering in occasional gusts that help push the ship in the direction Flora has chosen. “Of course, darling. I understand.” His accented voice hums, half curved toward her to brace his own elbows on his knees, soaking in the warmth of the thicker clothes he’d worn just in case.
Her tale is one that the butcher finds himself frowning in time and time again, only able to imagine how difficult it was. Given that he’d met Jack so rarely, he doesn’t know the man enough to say much about him. What he does know, is that Flora is hurting and that he’s very much willing to be here with her through it. “Yes.” He starts to say with a soft sigh, head tilting slightly. “You have sacrificed a lot, Flora. And for all of us that admire those that came before us of their own sacrifices, very rarely are the emotions and pain included in it. It takes.. a very strong person to do what it is you’ve done.” Shifting slightly, he offers her a gentle smile of his own, the sharpness dulled down for the gravity of the conversation. “And it is his loss to be unable to see that.” He touts a little proudly, because if Flora was going to be upset and pissed at Jack, he’s ready to join her side in it. What does he have to lose?
Astaroth
// and i'll paint it red //
