steal a moment of your time

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

The knock on her door comes between lightning strikes, making it easy to hear in the yawning silence. Thal stops the melody she'd been singing and lifts her head from the dagger in her hand, hovering over the whetstone mid motion. Not many people travel out this far - one of the many benefits of living next to a lightning field - and fewer people know of her apartment. The list of possibilities run through her head as she sets aside the weapon, wiping her oily hands on a nearby rag. One person in particular would be extremely entertaining to see on her doorstep, but she doesn't like the way her heart races at the idea. 

When she finally opens the door, Thal is dressed in her usual dark clothing minus her various straps and sheaths that lay across her dining room table. That doesn't mean she's unarmed, her magic simmering just below the surface; but it turns out to be unnecessary (and useless) when she spot a familiar face - immediately noticing the improvement from their last meeting. Her lips stretch into a sharp smile as she opens the door wider. "Asta." His name is nearly a song, lilting between them. "Come on in." She steps aside so he can enter, waiting until he escapes the rain to close it behind him, already moving to gather an extra glass to set next to her own. Looking up, she asks, "Bourbon okay?"

Thalassa

you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name

She’d been immensely helpful while he’d lost his mind – so it was to Levinsward that the butcher takes his first, unbidden trek away from home. Not worried of the avian wildlife for the first time in what felt like ages. Confidence was a beautiful coat on the butcher, even as he waits outside of Thalassa’s door – a bag slung over one of his arms, while the other shook out the parasol from the rain on the way here.

He hadn’t wanted to drip all over her floor, of course.

Its folded up neatly and left on her porch by the time she answers the door, a bright and sharp grin on display the second he sees her and hears the song of his name on her tongue. “Hello, darling.” He says in greeting, his accent not as thick as he steps in, shaking out any lingering cold from the trek over to feel the warmth of her home sink into his bones.

He watches as she goes to snag another glass as he begins to withdraw the items in the bag he’d brought with him, that favored halovian whiskey from before being chief among them. “Bourbon is lovely.” He hums, not expecting to break into the brand new bottle given that it was a gift for her. “I have brought you a thank you gift for helping me when I was, for lack of a better phrase, losing my mind.” Nodding toward the bottle of whiskey, he slides into one of the seats she has at the table. “I have finished the quest and have finally been able to sleep.” He explains with a soft laugh – though everything about him would suggest he had gotten all of the relief and sleep he’d needed.

Astaroth

fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

Thal pours Asta a hefty glass of the bourbon, sliding it across the table as he presents her with the bottle of whiskey. Her eyebrows lift at the pleasant surprise, a delighted grin gracing her features as she lifts to inspect the bottle. It's an extremely generous gift, and she sets it nearby as she dips her head in appreciation and takes the seat next to him. "I'll never turn down good liquor." Even as her eyes seem to say, 'You didn't have to.' Because, honestly, she'd wanted to help him, and she would have done it again for nothing in return. 

She hasn't had many 'friends' in recent years, so the fact that he would consider her enough of one to travel out here to share in his triumph warms her heart. Thal doesn't disappoint, a beaming smile spreading across her face. "That's fantastic news. Fear didn't suit you." It's honest but playful, a compliment as well as a confession laced in smirking banter. 

Leaning forward on the table, she raises her glass to Asta, no small amount of pride on her face. "To conquered fears."

Thalassa

you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name

He knows it, deep down, that he didn’t have to give her anything for her help. But Asta’s love language was gift giving. He was the type to wander through a store and simply purchase something because he thought someone he knew might like it. It’s the same here – that she didn’t have to help him or be that guide to push him through the last leg of it. But she did. And he appreciates her immensely for it and her friendship throughout all of this. “It is quite good.” He confirms easily, settling in to take the glass as she pours the bourbon, before he settles back and his smile grows easier, still sharp, but gentler somehow.

“I can confirm that I was not a fan of it.” He adds on with his own playful tease, the fact that he didn’t have a chance to be his usually annoying cocky self because he was so worried about the shadows of corvids hanging around his shoulders, lurking in the shadows. But as she leans forward and raises her glass, he mirrors her in the same, raising his glass with a brighter smile. “To conquered fears.” He agrees, leaning forward enough to clink his glass gently against hers before he takes a sip.

Leaning back as the familiar burn lingers in his throat, he looks back at her with a comfortable ease between two friends. “There is something else I wished to speak with you about. I simply forgot during the training..” He rolls his eyes dramatically – because how could he have forgotten? (Of course it was the crows.) “There are a few of us that are a part of a guild. One that’s bathed in shadows and secrecy. It sounded as if it may be something you might be interested in?” Given her penchant for knives, shadows, and striking when least expected.

Astaroth

fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

Clinking her glass against his, she gives him a pleased smile. Thal leans back in her chair, letting it tip onto the back legs as she hooks her knee under the table. She takes a large swig of her bourbon, letting it soak her tastebuds before slipping easily down her throat. As it does so, she raises an eyebrow of surprise to hear that Asta has another reason for coming (although not surprised that he would have forgotten during their spar). 

With more than a little interest, Thal listens to his description of the guild he's apparently a part of - one she's never heard of. Her voice is playful, but obviously intrigued as she says, "Oh really? The fact that I haven't been invited already is somewhat offensive." She lifts a hang in mock offense, even as a sharp grin graces her lips. Taking another sip of her drink, she tilts her head in curiosity. "What exactly does this guild do?" And what would she be signing up for?

Thalassa

you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name

His low chuckle accompanies her teasing response, one that has his face blooming with an amused smile as she delves into her own dramatics. He takes the moment to sip from his glass as he listens to the follow up question, lips quirking into an easy smile.

“It is a Thieves Guild.” He says it simply, smirking before he leans forward to prop his head up onto his cheek with a fist, letting his dark gaze scan her face. “Given that I am well aware of your tendency to have sticky fingers, perhaps you might be interested in more opportunities.” It’s a suggestion, one she doesn’t need to join up with if she doesn’t want to, but if she does? The opportunities could be endless.

Cocking his head and drawing back up, he takes a long sip from the bourbon. “What do you think?”

Astaroth

fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

Rocking back on her chair, Thal smiles around the rim of her glass. "I have no idea what you mean. Things just have a habit of 'finding' me." Not that she spent months gaining the skill after having nothing to her name - it most certainly isn't that. Or the fact that pirates are just thieves of the water. 

She takes a sip of her drink, considering the invitation and what it entails, although it doesn't take her long. Humming, she tilts her head to give Asta a mischievous grin. "A super secret club with business opportunities? I'm surprised you even have to ask." Given the smirk on his face, she gets the feeling he knew exactly what her answer would be. It feels strange to have a friend who sees her so wholly without any signs of judgement - it feels... good.

An inkling of an idea sparks in her mind, and Thal looks at Asta a little closer, hoping he might trust her enough to tell the whole truth this time. Professional curiosity laces her teasing tone as she asks, "Would this guild have anything to do with your injury a few months ago?"

Thalassa

you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name

Another low rumble of a chuckle escapes Asta’s throat, one that softens the bright and excited grin on his face – even as he particularly recalls how proud she had been to reveal the bag of gold from Stormbreak to him when he’d been so busy keeping an eye on the earlier drama.

But that’s neither here nor there. Her next comment is all the answer he needs, really. So he nods, lifting the glass to take a sip from it but hesitating at the last second. “You should speak with Flora, then.” They’d met before, if he recalls what Flora told him, so she’d know just who she needed to talk to, to fully get in.

His brows lift at her follow up question, hiding the smile with the glass as he does finally take his sip – letting it burn on his tongue and down his throat before he parses a way to answer. “Perhaps.” Is all he says, which is confirmation that while yes it had been because of that, that he’s quite tight lipped and won’t be giving in any more details from that endeavor. He values her as a close friend enough to admit it, at least. But the details.. well, those were left for who all was directly involved, sure that not even the rest of the Guild knew of it.

Astaroth

fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

Thal can't hide her surprise at the name. She wonders if she might have heard him wrong, because the Flora she knows looks like the kind of woman who thinks it's illegal to wear clashing colors, the kind of woman who might throw a fit over losing her pocket mirror. She does not look like the kind of woman who runs a super secret underground thieves' guild. As such, her smile quirks up at the side as she says, "Really? I would never have guessed." Not that she should be surprised; having been underestimated plenty of times based on her gender or stature, she knows there's almost always more to people than meets the eyes.

Dipping her head, she raises her glass in acknowledgement of Asta's role in this 'recruitment.' "I'll seek her out next time I'm in Torchline." Then she takes a sip of her bourbon, watching as the Butcher hides his smile behind his own glass. It's admission enough for her, even as he seems intent on keeping the juicy details to himself, so Thal doesn't push the issue, raising an eyebrow as she lowers her glass from her lips. Her chuckle is light, warming the space between them. "You weren't kidding about the secrecy." All it does is further excite her, wondering if she should push up her trip to Torchline.

Thalassa

you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name

He honestly should have expected the pocket mirror to be from Flora – given that he’s seen it in action before – and yet the butcher had a bit too much alcohol that night and he certainly hadn’t thought about where it came from ever since then. But his lips do quirk up with amusement to hear that she never would’ve guessed it, because that was practically the point it seemed. Flora pulled it off and she pulled it off well.

Toasting in agreement to hear that she’ll seek her out the next time she’s in Torchline, Asta takes an easy sip of the bourbon, letting it melt on his tongue in tastes of sweet caramel, oak, and cinnamon. Quite a lovely blend if you ask him.

But as his secrecy continues, he hears her light chuckle and his own accompanies it, inclining his horned head in agreement. “I am quite good at my job, darling.” He teases, enough that his sharp grin is on display again before he leans back, ashen tail flicking lightly from where it’s wound against the chair leg.

“Seeing as the important bits are out of the way, how have you been? Has the Marauder had any excitement recently?” Giving her his utmost attention, it’s clear he’s curious to know how it is as her friend as opposed to any other kind of influence.

Astaroth

fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

Laughing again, she dips her head 'respectfully' with a teasing grin. "I never had any doubts." Despite his prim and proper demeanor, and her initial reluctance to trust him, she'd never questioned his capabilities. If anything, she's gained more reasons to believe in his professional skills, although she'd love to see him fully in his element.

Thal lets out a low hum as she looks up at the ceiling, taking a large gulp of her bourbon while she considers his question. "Not really. We spent the first few weeks of the season scavenging some crash sites - idiots who thought sailing during LongNight was a brilliant idea." She scoffs out a laugh, flicking her tail at the pure stupidity of some people. Not that she's complaining. "Next on the agenda is a little 'test' I have in mind for Spook." The smile on her lips turns a little wicked, mischief glinting in her eyes. "He's been doing a great job learning to manage the docked ship without me present, but he's still having difficulties with giving the orders. It's hard to lead such a noisy group with such a soft voice." Or no voice. The First Mate is one of the quietest people she's ever met. He follows orders without question, and has proven himself more than competent, but if she wants to take a nap while they're out to sea, she doesn't know if she's going to wake up in the same ocean or not - or on a piece of driftwood. It's been his only flaw, and she's determined to beat it out of him.

"The plan is to have him navigate and lead the crew through the oceans while I fly above. Then I can intervene before they do too much damage, but they all know that failure isn't an option." Since she's already threatened bodily harm should they do so, especially if they damage a single speck of her ship. 

Turning her gaze back to Asta, the tilts her head. "What about you? Anything interesting? Any fun plans?" With the quest out of the way, she wonders what the man might hope to do with his newfound freedom.

Thalassa

you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name

His grin is evident as she confirms she never had any doubts – though he doesn’t feel the need to continue the conversation in that particular angle – especially as he asks about the endeavors of the Marauder. He settles in, sinking into the chair comfortably, nursing from the glass lightly as he enjoys the warmth from the fire and the company, nodding at the mention of how terrible of an idea it would be to travel during LongNight.

He wasn’t a sailor, but he did utilize the stars when he scouted before, and LongNight was a time that was far too long and far too dark that even he would get lost in familiar routes.

“A test, mm?” He recalls the First Mate, having been a reason for why he’d been picked in the first place. He’d noted the soft voice, head tilting as she explains. “Ha, I do recall.” Comes the soft chuckle of just how much Spook spoke in the first place – very little and very quietly. And perhaps he wonders if the First Mate needed some kind of device to boom his voice to the rest of the crew, before that thought fades away.

He sits up a little and runs a hand through his hair to fix a stray strand of dark raven hair from his face, flashing an easy smile. “It sounds as if that is a perfect test, though I imagine you would not have thought of anything lesser.” Thalassa is sharp and smart, like a blade left in a drawer with the sharp edge pointed out on purpose to keep everyone away. It would cut and bite into your flesh until you realized the threat that sat there in waiting, like a snake coiled to bite, inconspicuous enough to not notice right away, sharp enough to not feel the slice immediately, until your hand pulled away with blood. “You will have to let me know how it goes.” Curious of whether or not the First Mate would be able to find the knife in the drawer before harming himself, or whether he’d come away with a hand covered in blood.

“As for me, it is Danta’s birthday in a few days. Originally I was planning on bringing him to the Rage Room, but given that the last few weeks have been horrible for both of us, he has decided to spend a bit of time in the House of Midnight.” And so, the butcher had adjusted his plans accordingly. “I have heard the rooms are magical within and can become whatever you wish them to be, which means I will be showing him where it is I grew up.” Before he’d become Ancient. “Seeing as it does not exist any longer in Halo, and it is Halo of all places,” the shiver that races down his spine is dramatic as it is true, before he flashes her his usual too sharp grin, “I can ensure we will not turn to stone.” Snow and ice in appearance and not their temperatures, at least.

Astaroth

fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

His flattery makes her laugh, the sharp glint in her eyes matching his apt assessment. "I'll update you when it's over, although you'll probably see the signs." The bodies of idiots washing up on shores around Caido, a pissed off captain blazing through the oceans to whip her crew into shape, rumors of compasses tattooed to foreheads and butt cheeks; or Thal spending more time off the water than on, maybe even a smile more readily on her face. Whatever the results, it would be blatantly obvious how the test had gone. 

Thal listens closely to his birthday plans, trading the bit of jealousy for a warm smile. She lets out a low hum as she tilts her head back, letting the warmth of alcohol and good company curl through her chest. "Hmm. I haven't spent any time in the House of Midnight, but I've heard incredible things about it." Its magical properties as well as its explicit nature had intrigued her, but she'd never gotten around to visiting. Perhaps it was time to change that. 

At the mention of Halo, she shares in his shiver, having no desire to think about the cold, or turning to stone. Yet a bit of curiosity twinges at the piece of his history, and she tilts her head to look at him. "Do you miss Halo?" Even if she could never understand the appeal of such a frozen wasteland - in this life or the next - she wonders if it calls to him the way the ocean has always called to her, like home.

Thalassa

you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name

He probably will see the signs – the next time they meet after, whether or not she’s on a warpath, unable to trust anyone on the ship or if she’d find herself able to be landlocked a little longer than normal. At any rate, whispers and rumors aside, the butcher does hope it goes well. She deserves to be able to worry less about the capabilities of her rambunctious crew.

“I have never been, either.” The butcher confirms with a small smile, before he sips from the bourbon and huffs an airy laugh. “Though I have met the man that runs it.” Jealousy twists within Astaroth’s chest, a clear dislike of the Flood solely because of the connection between Danta and the other man, even if he hadn’t been around at the time. What can he say? Astaroth might as well have a dragon shift for how possessive he can be.

Shaking his head away from the memory of scars and tattoos that told a different story, the firelight glints against his ruby earring as he comes back from the dramatics of Halo and the shiver that’s ran down his spine, the ashen tip of his spaded tail freezing momentarily before it continues to flick. Her question is a good one, though, and has his dark gaze focusing on her for a moment before he leans back slightly to peer at the ceiling, an odd set to his bearded jaw. “I do at times. It was simpler.. However, overall? No. I did not fit in well, so I hardly spent much time at home anyway.” Shrugging, he angles his head back down to look at her with a curious gleam in his gaze. “I have come to believe that home is a feeling, rather than a true place.”

Home was the den with Dantalion and the furs of their bed and the human bone chimes the butcher made, dangling from the edges of the bed or still glowing luxere antlers. It was the scent of sage and citrus intermixed with smoke and fire and blood. It was the comfort of the cane at his side, whether it was made of metal and blades or wood. It was the feeling of the gore crow feather bracelet around his wrist as proof that iron wouldn't sit there again, that his nightmares could not be used against him maliciously. It was the warmth for bones that felt as if they'd never get warm enough. It was the sunset between whale bone and snow block houses, erupting the sky in watercolor so beautiful it reflected off the snow yet was so terribly unattainable to capture that it ached.

Astaroth

fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart