better run fast as you can

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

It’s with bated breath as she watches him take her hand, as he goes slower and gentler this time, using the season as an excuse. And only when he feels her not pull away, feels the pressure of piercing her skin with the thorn, does the butcher watch with wide, dark eyes - prepped and tense, ready to fight if she decides to attack.

But she doesn’t immediately move to attack him, and he drops the shadows from where his Haunt had swelled around to hide the rose in his hand. With it vanishing, it’s left limp in his hand, he watches as she shakes and when she speaks finally, without the broken hearted sorrow and rage he’d witnessed in her before, the butcher exhales the breath he’s been holding like a lifeline.

“You were infected.” He offers quietly, stepping away to give her some space, his tail flicking at his heels as if he’s still uncertain whether or not to help her finish packing or to find a chair so that he may be able to explain. Instead, the butcher is left in a limbo of uncertainty, waiting for her to come to grips with it.

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

Thalassa

The quiet offering just confirms what she knows and Thal feels the anger flare, teeth clenching around the seething words, "Shit. That bastard!"

She'd thought her emotions were overwhelming before, but that had been a different kind of pain, a listlessness that left her aching and mourning the loss of the people who'd been controlling her - who'd crippled her with a noose that she'd gladly worn. Compared to this, it had been a suffocating blanket of Void; and it disgusts her and infuriates her and horrifies her in every way imaginable, the emotions feeling like a cyclone plowing through her mind, ripping away the cobwebs and dampened priorities.  

Her eyes open to the bile and nail marks on the floor, fire scorching across the wood to clear the evidence as she lets out an inhuman growl. "They deserve to burn." The flames coil through her fingers, searching for the source of all her pain, but they're gone and she's pissed. Slamming a flaming fist into the floor, Thal tries to push the trembling weakness from her body, her tail lashing out behind her. "I'm such an idiot!"

A blue maelstrom lifts to find Asta - not directed at him, but herself for not having the strength to rip it out on her own. "How did you know? When did you know?" She needs to know how much to apologize for, to know how mortified she should be.

Don't ask questions you don't wanna know
Learned my lesson way too long ago

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

He lets her rage, remaining there as a pillar for her to not be alone through the overwhelm that he imagines losing the infection has spurred. He pays little mind to the bile and the tears - after all, the butcher has seen worse - but its to her fire that he focuses on next. It blooms, hot and white and with purpose that Asta conjures a little barrier around himself from the potential of it leaking toward him. Utilizing his own magic to prevent her fire from scorching his clothes.

“Yes, they do.” The butcher agrees, before the frown finds his face at her self deprecation, his tail whipping at the ashen tip as he shakes his head. He’s silenced from speaking more, however, when the flash of her murderous blue gaze meets him. He knows the difference now - has known her long enough to know when she was mad at him versus everyone else.

A low hum of consideration escapes him, his horned head tilting this way and that as he steals some of the fire from her to himself, each tip of tine of his horns harboring a small flame like a chandelier of candlelight that casts upon her. “I learned of it at the beginning of Longheat. Flora told me.” He admits, finding that it was perhaps in their best interest that he tell her who had learned of it, considering Thalassa was part of the very same guild. “Danta and I have been searching for a way to heal you since then.” He lifts the hand with the limp rose, its use having left it wilted and sad looking in comparison to the vibrant blood red it had been before.

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

Thalassa

The fire is controlled, only devouring the evidence of her weakness before winking out, leaving the smell of charred wood and sea salt. The source of her anger isn't here, so she pulls the heat in, directing the frustration at herself and all that she's missed in her despondent state. It makes sense to her now that she isn't in denial about her infection. Flora had been infected herself, of course she'd be able to recognize the signs, and then it's only logical that she'd tell Asta... But that feels like forever ago - months that she'd been living in a haze of blissful delusion. And when she thinks back to when it'd all started at the end of Flowerbirth... Thal grits her teeth. "So almost the whole time."

Her hands move to her hair, gripping harshly against the strands before shifting to grab at her horns, trying to think of every interaction where she'd been a bumbling fool in front of him. The battle with the Void villis where she hadn't tried to kill it once when it'd tried to hurt him. Their walk back when she didn't wipe the Void riverstars from existence for attacking him. The following lunch where she'd tried to interrogate him. The drink on her ship and how she'd wanted him to join her and the Family. Her incapacitation after Pierce left when he'd had to coddle her like an invalid. The Masquerade where she'd been so distracted that she hadn't been able to think, insulting him and Danta and getting in a fight with Maea. All of it. She's been such an idiot and an even worse friend. 

When she sits back on her heels to look up at him, Thal can feel the panic rising, pain and regret overshadowing the violence that boils inside. "Asta, I - Damn it. I'm so sorry. I - " Her head shakes, wishing she could clear the guilt. "I can't believe I put you through all that - I can't believe you wasted a Rose on me." She finally stands, slow and cautious like a sudden movement might be the last straw that sends him running but rushed in hopes of catching him. 

Then her eyes fall to the Rose that hangs limp between them, the precious magic spent on someone who doesn't deserve it. 

Her throat tightens, trying to understand as she stares at the pitiful flower. "You should have left me." Thal can feel the emotions pressing against the back of her eyes as she adds, "I would have." Other people had thought she was a lost cause. Most didn't think she was worth the time of day - that she was a menace to society. Asta might her friend, but she'd been so cruel to him. Why did he care so much?

Don't ask questions you don't wanna know
Learned my lesson way too long ago

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

He doesn’t know when it started for her - just that things had been different. She’d originally been talking about someone other than Pierce, not that Asta focuses on that point too much. But it had vanished nearly immediately in the face of everything else that had happened. She’d gotten different, but it wasn’t like it was something that the butcher found truly abhorrent. Of course, the comment made at the masquerade he’d carefully deflected at the beginning was a sticking point, but he gives her some benefit of the doubt given the condition she was in, whether or not she thought she deserved it.

So he remains there, a pillar that does not move toward her or further away as she comes to grips with it. The candlelight fire atop the tines of his antlers continue to glitter and flicker when she sits back on her knees and looks over at him and his dark gaze finds hers with a nod. “I would not consider it wasted.” Because he’d been able to heal her.

And what the fuck else was he going to do with a rose? He knows he’s selfish enough to not do anything selfless with it, like cleanse the void infected regions.

She stands and he remains, not even giving an inch of himself to look as though he’s leaving, and it’s with a huff of a warm laugh that his shark tooth smile is aimed at her. “Mm, I have worked too hard to be your friend to simply give up on you for such a stupid reason.” It’s an arrogant boast, but one he’s happy to make.

But it does allow him to take this moment to explain in better detail the issue that had occurred, if she’s looking for reasons to apologize. “I do, however, believe Danta was so upset at the masquerade because you had insinuated to come and find you if I needed rescuing from him.” Which, as he’s sure she can imagine, was a questionable thing to say. “I did not believe that was how you meant it, but perhaps reaching out to him may be a good start.”

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

Thalassa

The passion and certainty in his dark eyes isn't something she can stomach, shame and self-pity clogging her throat and the deprecating words that manage to squeeze through when she exchanges his gaze for her empty hands. "Others would disagree with you." As much as the knowledge weighs against her, it's nothing in comparison to the hollowness that had plagued her, and she's too selfish to regret his choice. She's not sure Asta truly understands what kind of personal hell he'd freed her from. Still, she turns her eyes back to him, the gratitude thick in her quiet voice, "But thank you."

His shark-tooth grin is hard to argue with, tension and panic leaking from her with his familiar humor and insistence interlaced with warm laughter. It's so disorienting how normal it is, and she shakes her head. "It's a good thing you're stubborn." A genuine smile finally forms on her lips, something she hadn't done in weeks. It almost overwhelms her with how easy it comes, a laugh nearly bubbling out with the presence of something she wasn't sure she'd ever experience again: joy. 

But the shift in topic immediately has her deflating, shrinking as she's reminded of everything she'd screwed up. The smile falls along with her head like a scolded child, a wince making her glance away. She knew it would catch up to her - that she'd have to answer for all her actions even if they'd been externally influenced - but she'd hoped there might be a few more minutes to process, a bit of time to recalibrate and reconnect with Asta, to enjoy not feeling like total shit. Apparently that was too much to hope for, even from a friend. 

Sighing heavily, Thal shakes her head, dark hair framing the ache in her eyes as she tries to convey her regret. "That... wasn't exactly what I'd meant." What exactly she'd meant was hard to tell, but she'd only wanted to make the party easier for Asta, whether that was ripping the muzzle from his face or keeping him company so Danta could mingle. Instead, she'd offended and miscommunicated, pushing a wedge between them that she hadn't intended, jeopardizing the few friendships she's lucky enough to have. 

A shrug of her shoulders lets her focus on reassuring Asta, doing her best to repair what she can. "I knew you didn't need rescuing - not from Danta at least." There's a small quirk of her lips, willing him to understand when she says, "He makes you too happy." And she wouldn't dare compromise that. 

It doesn't change the fact that she had compromised that. She'd somehow made Danta - the unflappable and eternally confident Theocrat - upset, and besides Asta, he'd be the first person on her list to visit. So, her nod is slow and resigned, knowing what she needs to do even if it's something she not necessarily comfortable with. "I'll talk with him." An apology might be too much to ask for, but she'd at least explain what she'd meant and hope to clear the air.

Don't ask questions you don't wanna know
Learned my lesson way too long ago

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

He knows that others wouldn’t agree with him. But it’s always been what sets him out from the rest — choosing which people were worth striving to keep whether or not everyone else agreed with him. Gods knew that he’d been on the opposite side more than once, and he’d had equally stubborn Ancients show up and think he was worth it to help.

Which is the entire reason he’s here today. And for that, he flashes Thalassa his bright smile, dipping his chin in acceptance of her gratitude - something he knows not many people get to hear. “You are welcome, darling.” He hums softly, the ashen spaded tip of his tail flicking back and forth with an ease of content and confidence as opposed to the anxiety from earlier.

The soft laugh leaves him in agreement that he is stubborn — having been born with a hard head, it seemed. But for all intents and purposes as he sees the change in her, back to the Thalassa he knows and adores, each and every point leading up to it had been worth it. And even if he has to ruin it for the moment to enlighten her on the actions she’d caused that had a ripple effect on him, he hums a note as his smile shifts softer. “He does make me happy. Infinitely so.” It isn’t meant to come out like a brag, but simply a truth of just how infatuated he was with the Theocrat. “Let me know how it goes, would you?” He asks, the chandelier of his horned head tilting with the request before he’s glancing back down at the rose in his hand as if debating whether to burn the evidence.

“Oh, also, evidently Pierce gave you a trinket when he left.” Nodding to the pendant she’s kept around her neck. “And if you wish to keep the rose to set alight,” maybe with the trinket, “I would be happy to give it to you. Otherwise, I am happy to have my own little bonfire.”

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

Thalassa

Amidst the relief and gratitude and returning emotions, there's the dark blemish of her actions. Asta isn't harsh in his reprimand, but she can feel the importance of what he asks, the depth of his feelings for the Maverick - and Thal can't bring herself to fail him again. She answers with a nod, swallowing some of the nerves that rise with the weight of expectation, the knowledge that she needs to succeed. The men are too closely entwined for her to hurt one without hurting the other, and she never wants to bring Asta harm. 

She's lingering on quiet thoughts of amends when a single name is cutting through, slashing any peace or calm from her. The reason for all her pain and frustrations. Just hearing his name pulls a sneer to her lips, her eyes falling to the necklace that hangs reverently against her throat like some token of love lost. It makes her feel sick again. 

A string of colorful, spitting curses leaves her mouth. "I forgot about this stupid thing." Tugging violently at the pendant, she rips it from her neck, ignoring the pain that laces the top of her spine with the force of it. Her fingers turn white with the strength of her grasp, wishing she could turn it to dust with a thought. "I'm not sure I can make fire strong enough to melt this shit. Maybe I'll throw it in Apopo or somewhere in the Climb." Wherever she manages to dispose of the cursed object, it won't be here, and she can feel the bile rising in her throat just holding it in her hand. 

Scoffing, she throws it hastily at the lid of her chest with an echoing thud. Thal shakes her hand like she might rid it of the oily sensation. "For now, I guess the Rose will have to do." She pauses to grin sharply up at Asta. "Want to take turn lighting petals on fire?" He deserves to enjoy the fun after all the work he's put in.

Don't ask questions you don't wanna know
Learned my lesson way too long ago

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

Quiet understanding and the ability to actually allow his distaste to see the necklace in question – one he’s done so well at hiding when she’d been under the influence of the void – the butcher’s lips quirk from the easy smile placed there into something akin to a sneer. “Ooh, well, if those are the options I do think the Climb would be best suited. Make sure you find a space with plenty of lava and you will never have to worry about the potential of it erupting and somehow finding its way back to you.” Like it might in the Fingers if there’s any eruption from Apopo.

Either way, he watches with his dark gaze as the necklace sails toward the trunk she’s going to take, and with their attention returning to the rose in question, he spots her grin and it reflects nearly immediately on his own face. “Do you have to ask, darling?” He asks with his shark tooth grin, stepping closer to her to share in plucking the petals from the rose. He starts, snagging one of the now dull, blood red petals and when it’s free from the rest and between his fingers, fire curls around the base of it, sparking it a deep variety of rainbow hues until it’s nothing but ash staining his fingers.

Holding it closer to her, he waits for her to pluck her own petal to watch it go up in flames.

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

Thalassa

Appreciative of his shared disgust, the sharp nod of her head makes the decision final, already plotting her new trip to the Climb to purge herself of these damning reminders. "Good point, although it'll probably haunt me either way." She adds the last part as a grumble, shooting another glare at the pendant that peeks menacingly from her chest, a collar that she'd practically begged Pierce to leave her, one that had stained her pride. 

But she's content with the knowledge that it will soon be obliterated, choosing to relish in the destruction at her fingertips. Her grin pulls up a little higher, watching as Asta snags the first petal. "I suppose not." When it goes up in flames, curling into ash, something seems to heal in her, a satisfaction that reminds her that it's over - she's free. Her heart beats a little harder, a pin being removed from the stiff stitching of her spine. It's easier to breathe, to think through the onslaught of information that's been released. 

Reaching forward, she lifts one of the fragile petals that had somehow held enough magic to cure her. Thal inspects the dull red, a small frown on her lips as she pauses, head angling in a very feline movement. "Aren't you curious? Or angry?" At her? The blue in her eyes is cautious, but otherwise insistent when she looks up at him. She slowly heats her fingers to send a crawling smolder through the velvet, consuming the petal in a ring of glowing ash. "About any of it?"

Don't ask questions you don't wanna know
Learned my lesson way too long ago

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

He imagines it will continue to haunt her. Yet most of the things that had haunted the butcher were few and far between these days, the fresh sting of them long gone and forgotten about. It helps that many of those that recalled those more embarrassing times had not woken from stone as he and Danta did, but for what it’s worth, time was one hell of a boon in alleviating the sting.

So he sits there, content and silent as he plucks the petal and sets it alight, the flame burning it in varied hues to a crisp when he lets the ash stain his fingers. Holding it out for her to take, Asta watches as she snags one and inspects it, her question taking him a bit by surprise. Enough that his horned head tilts, the shadows of his larger tines drawing lines across the table nearby. “Mm, not particularly. The Family was… devious. Manipulative. And seeing as Caido’s own demigods found themselves under their thumb for a time, I cared little for what they were doing. Until, selfishly, it affected me because of you.” A shrug of his shoulders before he relaxes and straightens up again, his smile twisting a touch softer.

“Angry? Yes. Not at you, however.” It’s his turn now to pluck a petal off, looking at the dull blood red petal briefly before he ignites it again. But he doesn’t look at it so much as he watches her face for her reaction. “It felt as though they had stolen one of my closest friends from me while I was not looking.”

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

Thalassa

Her own horns glint from the glow of the fireplace when she nods her head, her face momentarily casting in shadow. "That's true." She'd been so similar, not caring enough about the Family or their actions to warrant intervention. The personal interactions she'd had gave no indication of their threat beyond a quiet display of power that had always radiated from Pierce. It hadn't scared her, and she was too prideful to be cautious of having it turned on her or anyone she cared about. And that had been her downfall. 

Frowning, she watches as Asta selects his next petal and burns it. "But you don't know how it happened." Thal looks up, pausing in their fun to glare up at him. "You should be angry at me." For leaving herself susceptible and practically tempting fate for reasons that she now sees were pointless to begin with. 

She snags another petal, placing it in the palm of her hand so she can glare at something other than Asta, who didn't deserve her frustrations. "I might not have asked Pierce to do it, but I was stupid, too confident, too blind, too naive." The last word has her crushing the petal in her fist, a sort of quiet self-loathing mixing with her hatred for the Family. A small plume of smoke puffs from her hand, flakes of ash falling when she opens it. 

Sharp fangs peek through her lips as if she's trying to be angry for the both of them. "I shouldn't have been in that position to begin with and I shouldn't have put you through that."

Don't ask questions you don't wanna know
Learned my lesson way too long ago

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

Should he be angry with her? The solemn calm on his face as she continues to speak, as she looks at him as if expecting him to be the judge, jury, and executioner in her life. But… That isn’t Astaroth. He doesn’t know how it happened, hadn’t figured out the means of which each member of the Family were infectious. What he does know is that he focused on keeping a wide berth from them himself. And if she didn’t, well, that was her decision.

So when she says she was too stupid, too confident, too blind, and too naïve – it’s something that resonates. It makes the smile on his face twist a bit softer as he exhales a soft sigh and reaches out to pluck the next dull petal from the rose, feeling the velveteen sensation against the pads of his fingertips as he toys with it before he decides to set it alight.

“It was a mistake, Thal. There is not a single person that is incapable of making a mistake.” He hums, smearing the ash between his fingertips to his palm when he closes his fist. “I was also once too stupid, too confident, too blind, and too naïve.” He tilts his head, dark hair falling against one of the branches of his horns in the movement. “You take what has happened and you learn from it so that it never happens again.” There’s a dark fire that burns in the deep accent of his voice, as if a violent promise and a reminder for himself that he would never allow himself to be put in the position he was in before. “And then you move on. You live with the lesson you have learned.” Shrugging lightly, he deflates a touch, the dark fire of his eyes and voice softening as the murderous sensation passes, leaving him inch by inch as his tail soothes the slight whip it’s started doing.

But it seems as if she wishes to talk about it, though, and while Asta isn’t sure it’s his place, he does indulge her. “So, I suppose, what was it that he did to sink his claws -- er, brawn? into you? What will you have learned?”

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

Thalassa

He still isn't angry at her and Thal doesn't get it. 'Mistakes' are when people bump into each other at the market or write the wrong word in their letter. Hers wasn't a 'mistake,' it was a failure of gargantuan proportions, a failure of intelligence, a failure of foresight, a failure of everything she tried to be. And it had cost too much to brush aside so easily. 

Thal can at least get behind the sentiment of never letting it happen again - her defenses are already undergoing major reconstruction and refurbishment along with the bitter aggression biting at her emotions - but even Asta's dark reminiscence and fiery certainty aren't enough to convince her that all the lessons in the world would be enough for her. She still nods along, trying to instill the values and knowing that she wants to, yet being held back by that frustration and innate belief that she wouldn't learn. 

It makes his question that much more ironic, her blue eyes narrowing as she reaches to pluck another petal. She holds it between her fingers as she pauses to think about how it all had happened, time passing without a word and only the crackle of fire. The petal goes up in a blaze when she finally answers, "Nothing." Not a absolution of blame, but the truth, because Pierce hadn't lured her in or enticed her with flowery promises and he hadn't forced anything on her that she hadn't consented to - with her infection being a gray area. That's what makes it all the worse, her own role feeling like the only source of blame in the end, feeling like the only other outlet for her anger. She wants someone to know it all and confirm her verdict. She wants to tell Asta, to confess it all to the person who had bothered to give a shit despite it, because even if he ends up agreeing with her, he deserves to know what kind of friend she is. 

The words begin to flow, the tragedy unfolding in a tumble of stupid choices and dumb decisions, "I met Pierce before everyone knew his name - before I'd ever met you. I could tell he was strong - powerful - and we had a good time together." As close as they are, she spares Asta the grotesque details of their fling, shrugging her shoulders. "Then I didn't see him for a long time, except for the wanted posters broadcasting his crimes - not that I cared." Murder is as common in her line of work as shells on the beach. She hadn't even batted an eye. 

Crossing her arms, the line of her lips thins. "When I did see him again..." She recalls the playful banter, the heated looks, the firm pat on Vesper's face...

Thal swallows the tangle of emotions there, the knot falling into her stomach like a ten ton stone that makes her wince before she can wipe the expression away and explain the events, although a slight strain enters her tone. "I needed a distraction and since he seemed to enjoy being with me, I thought I was safe from the Family's attentions. I wasn't a threat. I didn't care about what they did or didn't do. I thought they would only infect someone if it was advantageous to their cause." She didn't have the connections or the political influence to make it worth their time. After all, who was she in the grand scheme of things? 

"So... I sought him out. And when I finally found him, he kissed me, punched me, and infected me. And I practically thanked him for it afterwards." The sour taste of bile rises in her throat again. This time, Thal moves away to grab an open bottle from the counter, pouring a hefty glass to wash down what she can. The burn feels deserved, carving a line straight to her heart when she turns back to Asta. She leans back against the counter, hands propped along with the empty glass in her fingers, a humorless smirk on her lips as she finally says, "So what did I learn? I learned that I'm an idiot who goes asking for trouble, and I have shit taste in men - friends excluded."

Don't ask questions you don't wanna know
Learned my lesson way too long ago