[SE] cut from marble

Maea

I feel it in the wind, my dear
The sun is gonna reappear

"Hmm, that's good. I prefer people who can think for themselves," she smiled, lazily and almost playful. Then she sighed, melting even closer to the counter. The edge bit into the deep plunge of her neckline, carving a line in her skin that would take a good while to fade. But she couldn't be bothered to move. "Sometimes though... I feel like it would be nice. To be able to trust someone like that. To know that they know you enough and expect enough from you to actually give orders. Loyalty... in both directions, you know? That might be nice."

Smooshing her cheek against the velvet of her sleeve, her gaze stared off into nothing. She felt like dozing off, like she might just fall asleep then and there. It wasn't the place for it, of course. But her office was cold, and it was a long walk to get home to her own bed. Maybe she'd borrow a room, for once. Borrow it and barricade it, so there wouldn't be any unwanted guests in the middle of the night. That might work.

Good days are gonna come along
Hold on, hold on!

Astaroth

// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //

Snorting in response, Astaroth agrees, watching her as she sinks slowly down against the counter top. He isn’t quite that bad yet, but the call of bed comes comfortably in the way that she draws sleepier and quieter, and the roaring heat of the Dusklight calls to his bones just as he’s sure calls to her own. “There’s loyalty between Danta and I.” Or an agreement, perhaps. One that the two of them knew one another so intimately and the things they’d gone through so deeply that there wasn’t any judgment or surprise when they acted how they acted. “I am sure you’ll find yours.” But it would require more of her opening up, which is a conversation that he feels shouldn’t be held tonight, not with how terribly exhausted she looks.

He downs his drink and nods to the bartender to clean up their spot, before his knuckles brush by her arm where she’s spread out on the table, leaning in a little toward her. “Would you like to go to bed? You could stay in my room and nobody will bother you.” He offers easily, ever the gentleman. “You may even have the bed to yourself if you’d prefer.” He was already half considering sleeping in a bundle of blankets in front of the fireplace anyway.

// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //

Maea

I feel it in the wind, my dear
The sun is gonna reappear

A pale eyebrow came up, sleepy but a touch mischievous. "Oh, I see. Good for you." She meant it. Would never begrudge anyone companionship of any kind. Not even when seeing others be happy made her own heart shrink with loneliness. And it wasn't as though she was alone. Not really. It was just... complicated.

That was at least partly the reason why she hesitated when Asta offered up both his room and his bed. It was a kind gesture, and a generous offer... and she felt bad for the way all her senses just shrank back. Wary of the kind of intimacy it would entail to sleep in the presence of another. Letting herself be that vulnerable... it had never been easy to her. And it was not a hurdle she was overcoming tonight.

"Mmh... much as I appreciate the offer," she began, turning her gaze down, "I should... probably head home. But thank you. It's kind of you." And she did appreciate it. She really did.

Good days are gonna come along
Hold on, hold on!

Astaroth

// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //

Snorting at her mischief, Asta doesn’t correct anything. It was a unique relationship between the two of them and he wasn’t going to try and explain it all. There was no need, anyway. So instead, the bartender collects the plate and glasses and cleans up what he can while he makes his offer, focusing on her as he lists it out.

Only to be declined.

Which would be fine if she didn’t look like she’d fall over into a snow bluff on the way to her home.

“Maea, darling, it’s snowing outside and you look tired enough that a strong breeze could knock you over into a drift.” He hums, trying to list out a few reasonable reasons why she shouldn’t just leave. “Take the bed. No one will bother you, least of all me.” He makes to slip off the barstool, collecting his cane, and offering an arm for her to take.

// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //

Maea

I feel it in the wind, my dear
The sun is gonna reappear

The reasoning was perfectly valid. Logical, sensible... but though she sat up, the corners of her mouth began to tug downwards as Asta offered her an arm.
"No that's - that's not - I'm okay. Really." She hadn't expected him to insist. Looking around for her mug, or the plate of fruits, she found that the bartender had cleared away her excuses for lingering and robbed her of an easy way out.

With little choice left but to face Asta, a look of something raw and anxious entered her eyes, despite her attempt at keeping her expression light.
"It's nothing personal, I just... prefer my own space. That's all." It wasn't, but she was not going to explain. Not now, probably not ever.

Good days are gonna come along
Hold on, hold on!

Astaroth

// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //

The smile softens a little – because he knows that he’s being pushy, but he truthfully doesn’t want her to wander home and turn into stone on the way when there’s a perfectly serviceable room available where nobody would bother her. Yet, he watches instead as she tries to seek her way out of it, only for the plates to have been cleared and watches even more as her lavender gaze shifts toward his like a prey animal might.

So he sighs a little, cocks his head and flashes her a reassuring smile. “How about you take my room for the night then, and I’ll go be a pain in the ass for Danta in his room.” That way she’d be left alone in his, because nobody came to bother him in his room, and he’d get the added bonus of being yet another thorn in the Maverick’s side.

// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //

Maea

I feel it in the wind, my dear
The sun is gonna reappear

He just didn't give up, did he. Huffing in frustration, Maea got up from her chair even as she shook her head, meaning to head for the door. "I'm not going to chase you out of your room," she told him stubbornly, glaring with beady eyes up at him. It made her neck hurt. Unfair, how everyone she met towered over her like this. "It's not that far, I can walk." Would walk all the way on her own two legs, too, just to prove to him that she could. Fall over in a pile of snow, phaw! Her legs were not as steady as she had expected them to be though. It took a considerable amount of concentration to put one foot in front of the other. She didn't notice how winding of a path it became - she was too busy just reaching the exit.

Good days are gonna come along
Hold on, hold on!

Astaroth

// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //

“I don’t mind, as I said.” Astaroth offers, flashing her a slightly sharper grin for the stubbornness he’s met with. It almost feels like a challenge, trying to get her to concede even as she starts to stand, glaring up at him with that lavender haze to her eyes. The cane clicks on the ground as he stands and watches her wobble as she walks, following after her at a distance to not be too overbearing – but sure that she would still likely fall.

She reaches the exit about the time that he does, his cane blocking the handle from her being able to reach it, his figure leaning in ever so slightly to offer a private conversation just for the two of them to hear – not that it would be heard elsewhere, given how rambunctious the participants have gotten in the booths nearby. “Take offers and kindness when they arrive and aim to give it back whenever given the chance.” He starts to say, fixing her with his dark gaze and a knowing look. “You had said trusting someone would be nice yet push away one person who is trying to extend such an olive branch.” He leans back, pulling the cane away from the door as he stands up straight again. “If you do not want to start that path, then I shall let you walk home, provided you promise me I will not find you as a statue outside of the Last Whisper.”

// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //

Maea

I feel it in the wind, my dear
The sun is gonna reappear

Triumphing at having reached the door, she reached for the handle only to find it blocked by the butt of a cane. Scowling up at the looming figure, her protests were cut short as Asta leaned in to speak his mind. Maea bent her neck, eyes turning to the floor. She didn't like how close his words came to match something she'd said to someone else not so very long ago. It made her feel like a hypocrite. Like a silly little girl who kept running away despite all her promises to cut that habit.

"Using my own words against me is unfair," she muttered unhappily. Swaying slightly as she considered, her shoulders went up a little bit further even as her resolve caved with a sigh. The one thing she couldn't abide would be the humiliation of being thawed out of stone a second time. "Fine. Have it your way..." But for all the things he said about trust and giving people a chance, she couldn't seem to shake the ache in her stomach that suggested she would regret this. She couldn't have said how, or why, but surely something was inevitably going to make this into a mistake.

Good days are gonna come along
Hold on, hold on!

Astaroth

// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //

She reminds him of a cat starting to smooth out from being puffed up in anger, the way she concedes and mutters unhappily and stares at the floor. He shrugs a shoulder that she can’t see, content with the result as is evident by the sharp smile remaining on his face. “Alas, you are making the correct choice.” He offers, right when she decides to give in, and he stands beside her ever a pillar in case her swaying became too much.

He helps her wander back down the walkway, around the tables, toward the rooms in the back with surprising ease and grace for how flushed his skin is from the liquor – it’s clear he can hold it mostly well enough – and when they arrive at his door, he unlocks it with the key in his pocket, taking a moment to admire the decorations they’d added earlier, before he opens it and gestures for her to step inside. “Now, if you’d prefer to be left alone, I’ll simply just grab a couple of things and let you be.” But the offer remains – he could stay or go, whichever made it easier for her.

// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //

Maea

I feel it in the wind, my dear
The sun is gonna reappear

To her credit, Maea did not respond. She was quite proud of that, actually, and of how she managed to make it back through the hall, past the dancing couples and the blaring band of musicians and through the winding hallways without needing any assistance. Well, not much anyway. She didn't fall over even once. Her misgivings remained while she waited for Asta to unlock the door, and sidled past him into the chamber.

It smelled different from the rest of the Dusklight. Like wood smoke and cologne and soap, and something very personal that she didn't want to examine too closely. For the second time that day she trailed her gaze along the small touches of personal detail, sparse in the way of one who had yet to put down many roots, and wondered what she was doing.
"It's your room," she repeated, not looking at the man whose space she was occupying. "I'm not going to tell you to leave." It might actually be worse, to be left alone in his bedroom. Even though her eyes were falling shut on her where she stood, anxiety levels were rising and set her thoughts into a whirl that had neither beginning nor end.

Good days are gonna come along
Hold on, hold on!

Astaroth

// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //

He would, though, if that was what she wanted. He would collect his things and depart, leaving her to his bed and the warmth of his fireplace roaring and crackling and lighting up the otherwise dark room. At the very least, meticulous as Astaroth is, there is no scent of blood or anything untoward within the confines of the room – but the hint of a cleaning product and his typical scent, one a mixture of woodsmoke, amber, a hint of musk, amongst another hint of vetiver root that adds to that woodsmoke scent, one that’s nestled into his blankets.

But she tells him that she isn’t going to make him leave, and as such the gentleman butcher drifts in after closing and locking the door (to ensure nobody else intrudes, despite everyone knowing to stay away from his space anyway), humming a note of understanding as he places his cane in its usual spot beside the fireplace, stooping down to grab a couple more pieces of wood to toss onto it, utilizing his magic once more to get the flames to lick around it to pick it up. “If you are sure.” He offers while he gets the fire roaring higher.

“Do make yourself comfortable.” He offers her, casting a glance over his shoulder toward her to see whether or not she’ll move from the space she’d rooted in his room. It isn’t a long lasting glance, not as he snags a pillow from a chair in the room and one of the fur blankets, already prepping a space on the floor in front of the fireplace for him to sleep.

// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //

Maea

I feel it in the wind, my dear
The sun is gonna reappear

That almost made her laugh. "I'm not sure of anything anymore," she muttered under her breath. But she did shed the coat, at least, and padded on silent feet to hang it on a hook next to his. It made her shrink even further, shedding pounds from her silhouette and lending a fragility to the petite frame that belayed her true capabilities. The black dress hugged her figure to the waist and spilled towards the floor in a cascade of wide skirts that rustled subtly as she moved.

Seeing as Asta was making a place for himself by the fireplace, Maea approached the bed and sat down at the edge of it, apprehensive at the mere thought of relaxing. She did try, really she did, but she didn't know how to shake the ringing out of her ears or how to keep her hands from coiling into fists around the cloth of her skirt. It was ridiculous, of course. This was the same person she had been speaking to for the whole of the afternoon. Changing location shouldn't make this much of a difference.

Yet, for all that, she couldn't think of a single thing to say.

Good days are gonna come along
Hold on, hold on!

Astaroth

// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //

He hears her muttering, of course, but he makes no comment on it. It does little good to poke and prod at her when she’s clearly uncomfortable. But he’s a gentleman, evident in how he’s sought out her safety, offered his bed for her to stay in, and is already in the middle of making a small little fur nest on the floor in front of the fireplace. He hardly pays her much mind, really, fixing and readjusting the blankets and pillows to where he thinks they’d be the most comfortable.

Only then when he loosens the top two buttons of his shirt – keeping it on for her comfort – does he settle into the blankets, horned head resting on the pillow, dark eyes focusing on the licking flames. He can see her in the mirror, tense and straight backed, as if not allowing herself to grow comfortable. So he doesn’t stare, continues to watch the flames – knowing that if he can see her then she can see him in the reflection of the mirror all the same. “Take a few deep breaths, grab a blanket, and try to relax. It will be fine and morning before you realize it.” He offers, nestling in a bit more into the pillow, hand outstretched to the warmth of the edge of the flame to let his fingertips dip into the oranges and whites of the fire.

// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //