steal a moment of your time

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

Thal notices his every reaction, from the strange tinge of his words around the House of Midnight's owner to the way his tail freezes midair to the tension in his jaw. She drinks it in, learning more about Asta with each nuance. It speaks of his character and the depth of his feelings, the ones that give him so much confidence in his place in the world, the ones he owns unapologetically.

Leaning back again, she nods her head, a teasing grin on her face. "Sounds sappy." But despite her words, there's a bittersweet pull at her tone, another pang of jealousy ringing deep in her chest. It makes something in her ache to feel the same way, to feel so at peace and accepted that nothing can compare, to find her 'home.' 

Still, she's happy for Asta, happy that he's found his place in spite of the struggles he's had - and those are only the ones she knows of. Her smile softens as she meets his gaze, hoping her own emotions are hidden well enough as she says, "You're a lucky man." Her bourbon meets her lips again, swallowing more than just the alcohol as she rocks her chair again.

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

Maybe it is sappy. Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s all made up somewhere in his poetic yet well groomed head. Or maybe it was his truth – that he’d never truly had a home as a place to be, but rather the people around that made it as such. He was never truly home in Whitebrim. He was never truly home in the Climb. Even his name that she knows him by, isn’t the one he was born with.

So why wouldn’t he leave it all behind if he could?

“Perhaps.” He says with an overly dramatic, whimsical sigh, letting his grin tug at the familiar smile wrinkles in his tanned face, peering at her as he rests his cheek on a propped up fist. It’s the softness of her voice next that distracts him, wanting to glean something deeper than this pretense, and perhaps opening up his past to her might be the way of getting it in return. So when she says he’s lucky, it’s with a knowing smile and a glint in his gaze that he chuckles his agreement.

A slow nod, while his head still remains propped. “I do hope my luck is not running out. It seems to be a common thread between the places I have been.” He muses playfully, before his smile softens a touch and he regards her, filtering through everything in his mind of their interactions, trying to piece together whether or not they’d spoken of it before. “I do not wish to be so bold, so of course tell me to fuck off if I am encroaching… But, do you? Miss it, that is.” Home, which he still wasn’t sure of where she came from, but feeling compelled to ask regardless.

Astaroth

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

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

"Things have to work out eventually." Thal would never dare to be 'optimistic,' but for his sake - and hers - she hopes the words are true. She wants to believe that happiness can't always slip through their fingers. 

His question takes her by surprise, even as it shouldn't. It's only fair after her question, but her body stills, uncertain whether she wants to answer or not, how she wants to answer. She's silent for a moment before she lets out a soft scoff, leaning forward to settle her chair securely on the floor without quite looking at him. "It's hard to miss what I don't remember." Her hand reaches for the bottle, refilling her glass as the thoughts run through her mind, all the unknowns and pieces of truth that have slowly formed her understanding of where she came from, of who she'd been. It's tender, a stinging of saltwater against her exposed heart.

Thal takes a large gulp of her bourbon, rolling her shoulders against the sensation. She stares into the amber liquid as she wades through her emotions, not wanting Asta to see what swims in the blue depths of her eyes. "I still have a... pull to the ocean. Maybe it's longing, maybe it's familiarity. I'm not sure what to call it." Her shoulders come up in a shrug, unable to stop now that she's begun, something in her wanting him to know. "It only started to make sense a few months ago." And only after being blindsided by someone who'd recognized her, dumping a boatload of uncomfortable information on her shoulders.

Hoping to bury the insecurities in humor, Thal leans back in her chair, her hand raised to calm any reaction Asta may have, a bitter smile on her lips. "Now, don't fall out of your seat when I tell you this, but... yours truly was once a mermaid." She lifts her hands, a half-hearted laugh cracking through the room. "I know. I know. Hard to believe." Quieter, she looks away again. "I'm still not sure I actually believe it either." Not that it would be the most terrible thing, but if people knew she used to be some doe-eyed half-fish who gave up her fins for 'love'... Just the thought is enough to make her want to rip into something with a pulse.

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

They did have to, eventually. At least that’s what he hoped for, too, for the both of them. And he watches as his question has her stilling – as if she’s unsure whether or not to indulge him. She doesn’t have to, of course, but as her chair settles and she doesn’t meet his gaze, instead refilling her glass, the butcher can understand – even if he couldn’t relate. “That is fair.” He murmurs softly, encouragingly, half not expecting her to continue as she takes the large sip of her bourbon, and he takes the time to finish his own off.

Reaching for the bottle in turn to refill his glass, he listens, nodding silently – even if he doesn’t quite know what the ocean has to do with it yet. But that secret is revealed, seen as she leans back and holds her hand up to calm any response he might have. And while he doesn’t offer it verbally, giving her what she seeks without verbalizing it, he can’t help the way his gaze widens and his brows lift.

It was rare for the butcher to be well and truly surprised, but here he is – and Danta was correct when noting that the closer to him one got, the easier it was to see the thoughts that ran within his thick skull. “Is it?” He asks after taking a sip to wipe his face clean of its reaction, cocking his antlered head to the side as he regards her, carefully plucking his words as if it might collide and make sense. “If you.. mm, have the call to the ocean even still, perhaps a portion still lingers.” He murmurs softly – just as a portion of his own lingered with him, walked with him everywhere he went. A secret kept close to his chest that he only let out once to Maea – and well.. Look at how that turned out. “Perhaps you were of the siren kind?” He aims his jest, flashing a softer smile before he takes a slow and long inhale, hoping that perhaps his next little tidbit of himself doesn’t scare her away, but may relate.

“If that is what you meant by whether or not I miss Halo, then perhaps I misunderstood.” He picks his words carefully, like he’s got a shaken up box of scrabble letters, trying to piece them together in such a way that one might fuck with words on a refrigerator to make a cryptic poem. “There is a part of it that I carry with me every day.” Lifting his dark amber gaze, it’s with that same soft smile that for once hides the too sharp teeth hidden behind them. “I am from Halo, yes, but not the Halo you have likely heard. I am from Whitebrim.” The Whitebrim Cannibals, to be specific. And it lingers each and every day, from the grittier his accent becomes, to the bone chimes he makes, to the indulgence of devouring the worst of the worst as the utmost punishment.

Astaroth

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

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

At least Asta doesn't make fun of her, doesn't ask too many questions or make her feel like something strange, even as she can tell that her news catches him by surprise. She supposes that should flatter her, to know that it's not something anyone would guess about her, no matter how close she might be to them. It's not that Thal hates the idea of portions of her past lingering, having already accepted that, but she can't afford to look weak. 

Rotating her glass in her hand, she pushes aside the discomfort, willing to accept a connection to the ocean over a soft personality. "Maybe." Although his next words make her want to snap and laugh at the same time. She settles for an eye roll, recalling what her 'mother' had said about her prevalence for singing - although not the kind that beckoned people to their deaths. She sneers a little at the thought, her voice quiet and bitter. "I wish." Any other words die on her lips as her attentions are suddenly fixated on Asta and the strangeness of his demeanor.

His smile seems almost nervous, his characteristically too-sharp teeth hiding. It's not something she's used to, and Thal raises an eyebrow to hear what he might have to say. The cryptic nature of his words makes them hard to piece together, like missing letters on a scrabble board where she has to fill in the blanks. As someone in the business of reading between the lines, it doesn't take her too long to figure out what he's trying to say; the little bit about the infamous Whitebrim clicks with Maea's revelation to her in this very room. Thal tilts her head, confused on why Asta looks so cautious when Maea had made it seem like something he was proud of. She shrugs her shoulders, not bothered in the slightest as she accepts the confession. "So? Does that bother you?" There's no judgement in her blue gaze, only friendly curiosity and a hint of confusion.

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

What is there to make fun of? They all had their journeys to meet their perfect goddess, whether it be from the sea or from the brink of death, tied like a dog left out to starve. They’d all made their way to Dygra, and that’s truly all that matters to him. How much of it she wished to share of her past was entirely in her court. He wasn’t going to probe or ask questions unless she wanted him to.

But it does make sense why she would be so drawn to the ocean. Even so much as seeing her eye roll, the butcher lets the smile tug on his face briefly before it vanishes in the seriousness of their conversation.

His dark gaze focuses on her as it falls from his lips, and when she doesn’t recoil from the news, he finds the tension alleviating briefly through his shoulders. It’s her answer that sparks another surprise through him, a low chuckle leaving him as he shakes his head. “It does not bother me, but I have learned it bothers others.” Downing the glass, the butcher exhales a sigh with a brief and almost humorless laugh. “Which is why it is not something I advertise, I am sure you can imagine.” He flashes her a slightly brighter smile, showing the sharpness of his teeth for a brief moment.

Astaroth

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

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

It feels like she passed a test of some kind, watching the tension leach from his body, hearing his chuckle warm the room again. Asta looks like himself, sharp and teasing, even if something dark still lingers at the edge of his smile. That alone makes her protective, and it only gets worse when he talks of how 'others' perceive his actions. 

She can't help the laugh that escapes with a similar degree of 'humor' in her tone, immediately knowing at least one person it bothers. "People like Maea?" Thal shakes her head, waving a flippant hand in regard to the pale Ancient she sometimes calls a friend. "Don't let that upset you - don't let her upset you. Not all of us care about the lofty 'morals' of the world." Her hands gesture to the atmosphere like it's the existential nonsense that people attempt to place on reality, like she can waft away the strings that try to restrain her fun. 

Thal's glowing blue eyes meet his, trying to tell him just how much it doesn't bother her, to give him the confidence to trust her in this. A light laugh wraps through her voice as she rocks her chair back again, totally at ease. "As long as you don't try to eat me, I couldn't care less." Lifting her glass to her lips, she takes a deep swig of her bourbon just as a funny thought hits her. She gives Asta a fanged grin full of mischief and violence. "Although I haven't tried it myself, so I hope you'll excuse me if I don't join in." That isn't to say she wouldn't try it, but it isn't high on her bucket list of things to do.

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

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the very clear dislike for the pale Ancient such that when Thalassa mentions her name, the butcher sinks back into the chair with a low groan of annoyance in a very dramatic “ughhh.” Until she continues and Astaroth glances over toward her with a small snort. “It would not bother me, except for the fact that she cannot leave things well enough alone and decides to share my business with half of Caido.” Leaning forward to press his head into his hand as he reaches for the bottle to fill his glass again and her own, the butcher’s ashen tail flicks in his brief annoyance. He doesn’t know if it’s true that she’s told half of Caido, but he does know she told Flora roundaboutly, to which he had to make his explanations to her already, and had thankfully found she didn’t particularly care much either.

He does see the confidence in her face, in the fiery blues of her eyes that screams that she doesn’t care, and gods, he hates how relieving it is to see. “Mm, consider yourself safe, darling.” He says warmly, humming a soft laugh as he regards her again and the amusement that flares in her face in the form of sharp grins and mischief and violence. “Trust me, I harbor no judgement.” Chuckling in spite of it, he straightens up finally and traces the rim of the glass with a finger.

“I do appreciate this, Thalassa.” He murmurs softly, offering her an easier smile. “I cannot say how relieved I am.” He tacks on, as if it wasn’t already clear.

Astaroth

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

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

His dramatic dislike of Maea makes her smile. She might be making amends with the woman, but they're still on rocky territory, figuring out boundaries within their 'friendship.' It makes it easy to see the other side of things, to relate to the visceral reaction. 

Thal lets out a hearty laugh that turns into a groan to hear that it isn't just her that Maea's been telling his secret to. "That's true enough. She tried to 'warn' me about you." A flash of anger enters her eyes, her fangs showing more prominently as she accepts his refill of her glass. "Obviously it didn't have the effect she'd hoped for. If anything, we had an argument about it." It's certainly not something she wants to keep from him, even if it might worsen the two's relationship with each other. At this point, she trusts Asta more than Maea, and the glare she gives him should say as much without her following words. "Either way, she knows not to try that with me again."

The softness of his following expression only makes her more annoyed, but with nothing to take out her frustrations on, Thal just narrows her eyes, letting out a long sigh to release some of the growing violence in her blood. "I'm just sorry you had any worries to begin with." That anyone had made him feel that he needed to hide it. She takes a sip of her bourbon to calm the desire to throw something on his behalf.

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

Unknown to him, his nose wrinkles as Thal mentions Maea warned her against him. Meeting her gaze with a similar flare of anger — as if one could dictate who they’re friends with, once again sticking hands where they didn’t belong. Puffing out a sigh after, he nods to hear that it obviously hadn’t worked, even if he’s unsure when, perhaps, Maea had let all of her concerns slip.

“She wants to make amends for what happened.” He says like it’s one other nagging thing on his mind, one that constantly prods at him with frustration. “But I am not too sure how true that is, if she is going around warning people from me.” Rolling his eyes, he sinks back in the chair much more relaxed, willing to explain the event if Thalassa’s interested. “Nor for the gravity of what happened.” He sighs, because a selfish portion of him — while having gotten the crow charm for his nightmares as the main reason, there was the lingering one of ensuring that the pale Ancient couldn’t use hers against him if it came down to it.

Shaking his horned head, he flashes her an easier smile. “Do not be sorry. It is not your fault, after all.” It was his, ultimately, for telling someone he thought might one day be a friend, only to have her completely and utterly blow it up in his face and still somehow try to be the better one between them. At least his actions were decisive and so far have benefitted the populace.

Astaroth

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

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

Thal shrugs her shoulders, not finding the 'amendments' as funny as their agreed dislike. "She claimed something similar to me after disappearing for months, leaving me to think her dead - that I'd been the cause of her death." She sighs, still not entirely sure she wasn't to blame, making her look into her glass with another humorless smile. "I won't lie. It really hurt. It wasn't my brightest moment." She'd still been so vulnerable, so lonely that losing someone she thought to be a friend had been devastating. Thal had been a shell, broken and guilty until Hadama had helped her out of it, had given her a little bit of direction to follow; but that didn't change the fact that she'd been at her lowest point, drunk half the time and angry the other half. She laughs against the memory, glad Asta hadn't seen her at such an embarrassing time. "I might have given last week's you a run for your money." There's a gleam of humor in her eyes as she looks at him, hiding the pain she used to feel - the hurt that still rears its ugly head sometimes - the thing that feels an awfully lot like weakness. 

Her words are more detached as she continues, thinking about Maea and the strangeness of their relationship. "You know, I used to want to be friends with her. She was one of the first Ancients I met, and I just wanted to connect with someone - anyone, and she seemed to understand my pain." Of not feeling like an Ancient. 

But she's come to accept herself, whereas it still seems to weigh heavy on Maea. The thoughts just made her tired now, little anger lingering on the issue. "Now... I don't know. I didn't realize how deep her own struggles went, and now I guess I'm trying to give her a chance to prove that she's changing." Not that Thal has a lot of hope, having distinctly told her that she expected actions in order to prove so. 

As for the 'event' that had led to Asta's own disagreement with Maea, Thal shakes her head. "She didn't even tell me much of that night, just something about the man 'not deserving' the severity of the punishment despite assaulting one of the girls." Although Maea had failed to mention that she was said 'girl.' If anything, that would have only pissed her off more, but for now, the captain's eyes are still full of distaste for the act, no remorse or mercy for the man he'd tortured. "I disagreed."

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

Confused over how it could have been Thalassa’s fault, he nevertheless doesn’t blame her for the hurt. He doesn’t blame her for being upset at the circumstances. “If it helps, it hurt me too when we had our falling out.” Perhaps they both succumbed to playing the fool when it came to the circus of Maea’s life.

The glimmer of humor has him snorting, plucking the glass from the table to take a slow and indulgent sip, letting the liquor burn nicely on his tongue. “I cannot begin to imagine.” He aims his jest back to her in turn — unable to imagine the young woman before him to be anything but the sharp edge she was.

But her tone grows detached and Asta listens dutifully, as a good friend does, especially over thoughts that have passed through his own once upon a time before it burned out like the last few pieces of coal in a fireplace. “I am unsure whether or not she will ever change. Viewing herself as the only moral compass will only get her so far.” He mutters, waving a hand in a tired gesture.

Hearing the brief blip over the issue, the butcher’s laugh is as amused as it is interested, and it’s an almost feral edge to his smile that he aims at her. “She left out the important fact that she was the girl.” He rectifies. “And once I had him apprehended, I got her settled in my room and told her I would be back. She then followed me and did not like what she saw.” His tone drifts back into the Whitebrim accent, grittier, sharper. “She did not like my answers, but he was a repeat offender.” Cutting himself off to take a sip of the bourbon again to try and alleviate the anger that bubbles up through him, it fails. “That was not even the worst part of our combined history.” In fact, he thinks very little about that encounter as he does the one that had truly cemented his threat against her.

Astaroth

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

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

Thal appreciates the shared sentiment, that she isn't the only one who's been wrung out in the aftermath of knowing Maea, even if it's not something she particularly enjoys having in common with the man. 

She returns his tired smile, not willing to invest much more of her heart in the relationship if Maea isn't willing to compromise. How is a pirate supposed to be friends with someone who sees her as a villain? It doesn't give her any comfort, and she sighs loudly, letting her head lean back. "You're probably right about that..."

Her head is immediately snapping up at his revelation, the legs of her chair cracking into the floor. For a moment, there's just disbelief on her features, that Maea would leave out such a crucial part, that she wouldn't feel the punishment justified because of it. Her following laugh is a sharp, jagged thing, anger lancing through it. "Are you kidding me?! Of course she'd leave that part out." All of it. Her being the victim, following Asta, whatever came after. The dark cascade of her hair shifts around her in the shaking of her head, a dangerous smile on her lips when she looks to Asta. "You know, she's lucky it was you there. I would have killed the man on site, probably painted the walls in warning to all the other perverts." Thal chuckles a dark, deep note as she throws back the rest of her glass, unsure whether the anger is for the man or Maea. 

Refilling her glass again, she looks to Asta and the information he dangles before her. "Oh? Now I have to know. What could possibly be worse?" Although she'll certainly shut up if he doesn't want to talk about it, but while they're on the topic, he might as well get it out. She's angry enough as is.

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

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.

Astaroth

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