kings of the killing, out for blood

Maea

And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear

Pursing her lips, she squinted at Asta as if trying to see through him. Like she might perceive his nature and priorities just by looking hard enough.
"I mean, it would be easy to just get the ward up and then leave things at that, wouldn't it? I like Danta well enough, but from what I've seen he doesn't go out of his way to solve problems. Once we're safe and cozy behind a wall... what's to say he won't just let the world outside be overrun?" There was no accusation in her voice, only pragmatic observation. "If I can't leave because of how dangerous the outside has become, it's not that different from being locked up. It's just a different kind of cage."

Would he object to her reservations against their benevolent leader? They seemed close, the two men, so perhaps he had a different view on the situation. She spoke her mind anyway, trading honesty for honesty - because so far she had yet to meet an Ancient she couldn't see eye to eye with, and it made her want to believe that she fit in.

Which, was a hope that saw a first shadow cast over it as Asta went on to describe his early life as 'dark'. Not knowing what that mean, she cocked her head aside with questions brimming in her eyes, the wide, pearly white horns exaggerating the gesture. "... preferences?" Maybe she shouldn't be asking. Sometimes not knowing was the better way to live. Except... except she was a Loreseeker. Uncovering truths was what she did. It was the only way she knew that would fix her ignorance. "Mmh, in some ways. The bloodlust... it scares me, to be honest. I... well, I guess I don't like losing control."

He had shared his fear of birds. It only seemed fair to admit a weakness of her own. Now they were even.

Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on

/// forgive me father, for i have sinned
and as i kneel here now,

Unfortunately, they appear to be meeting at an impasse when it comes to trying to guestimate what the other is thinking. Astaroth can’t glean anything from her pale face, nor does his own older one harbor any insights. But he is patient, and he’s a good listener, and he hums thoughtfully as she lays out her worries and fears.

Truthfully, they’re all still working on getting powerful again – Danta and himself having lost much of their strength from their time sleeping in stone. When it comes to cages, though, he can assure Maea of one thing. “The last thing Danta would want to be stuck in, is a cage.” And he thinks that the Maverick cares about this region and its wanton group of Ancients that he’d work to ensure that it wouldn’t become another terrible situation. They both have had enough of those for their lifetimes.

As for his preferences, though, as she grows nosy, he hums a little and reaches into the flame to push around a piece that hasn’t picked up a good burn or char yet, debating how to put it nicely. “I hail from a very old, now nonexistent, tribe of cannibals.” Blunt is probably best, and he remains sitting where she might not feel so threatened with the news. “But don’t worry, I’m quite polite about it, and no I won’t be sampling anyone in the Grounds that doesn’t deserve it.” But that rowdy group that he’d had to push forcefully out of the Last Whisper a few weeks ago? He definitely deserved the hand he’d gotten from that adventure. Now they’d think twice.

“I had a bloodlust from before I was even turned. My upbringing, as I’m sure you can imagine, thrived off of it.” And taught him absolutely zero manners, resulting in his arrival to the Climb.

Astaroth

hands red with blood,
i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///

Maea

And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear

"Yeah? I hope you are right. I feel the same way." Her smile was a ghostly thing, there and gone again before ever quite reaching her eyes. This was a lot of truths to be offering to someone whose motives she did not know, and caution was beginning to catch up to her again, as the tone of the conversation slowly shifted.

Sitting up straighter, a stillness came over the young woman as she processed the words coming out of the older ancient's mouth. That he even spoke of it was making alarm bells go off in her mind. At the mention of cannibals, Maea's mind conjured memories of icy tunnels of Halo and the contents of foul crates stashed away out of sight. Filled to the brim with the mutilated bodies of gods knew how many people - ambushed, butchered and consumed by outcasts driven mad by the merciless climate. That burning taste of bile returned to bubble in her throat - couldn't help it, no matter how much this gentleman with his polite speech and sincere manners assured he was polite about it.

"You eat people?" A choked whisper, a shudder of unchecked horror; there was no mistaking the way she leaned back, away; unable to comprehend it. Unwilling to look past the initial recoil - because she didn't want to know what her true reaction would be if she did.

This... this was toeing dangerously close to the whole reason why she feared some parts of this new nature.

"How can anyone deserve... to be eaten?"

Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on

/// forgive me father, for i have sinned
and as i kneel here now,

If nothing else, the Maverick has himself as quite a tall and lanky thorn in his side to ensure that doesn’t happen. But so long as they didn’t end up like the Greatwood and the rumors he’s heard surrounding it, he’ll consider it a win. So all he can do is flash Maea an easy smile of agreement.

One that fades when he speaks on his truths. And one that he can see her reaction as plainly as day written all across her face. It isn’t that unlike what he’s received prior to becoming an Ancient, but he had learned since then. He had manners. He was polite. All things that had remained the same even before she knew of his preferences. And had he not said anything, she would have been none the wiser.

Something to chew on, he supposes. “I do.” He admits quite casually, while he still messes with that stubborn log of driftwood in the fire. “Quite a tough habit to break once it’s started.” Nothing was ever quite the same. But, alas, the cat was out of the bag now and as she asks her follow up question while she looks like she might be sick at any moment, Asta removes his hand from the flame, brushes a few loose locks of dark hair from his face back around his horn before he rests his quite warm hand on the back of his neck.

“Mm, anyone that harms those I am to protect. Patrons in the Dusklight, for starters.” He is security there. “Nor do they die.” Maybe miss a finger here and there or a chunk out of a leg. But hey, they brought it on themselves. “It serves as a good warning and I get a snack. I think that’s a win.” He bounces a brow, trying to get some humor interjected into it, though he feels as if it’ll fail. “It’s rare, though. I am satisfied enough with deer and the like.” He very deftly keeps his medical clinic dealings quiet and close to his chest.

Astaroth

hands red with blood,
i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///

Maea

And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear

Her mind reeled, struggling to adjust. What she knew to be good and right and proper clashed horribly with the casual way Asta was speaking about the act of consuming human flesh. It was worse than just feeling sick; it upended the fragile peace she had settled into. A reality where she had turned into a predator - a tiger, a being who needed to hunt, yes, but who was not a monster.

But this person was an Ancient too, and  he - how was he different from the things that had come snarling at the door every LongNight as she grew up? How was she different, from the nightmarish things that had slaughtered her entire family? Dragged them off into the cold darkness, to do Gods know what - they had never been found. What other fate was there?

Her hands felt icy cold even though her cheeks were stiff with hot upset. Nearly hyperventilating, she pressed cold fingers against the side of her own neck, trying to breathe, to think, to find something - anything - that would keep her from spiraling into full blown panic. Then he said something that she latched on to like it was a lifeline. It very well might be. Her head snapped up, and she forced herself to meet his gaze.

"They don't die? So you don't  - don't kill people? You don't hunt them?" That... She didn't think she could bear that. The eating was awful enough, but to actively hunt living people like they were no more than cattle, even though they were capable of talking, communication, friendship and love and -

How great was the difference between Dygra's children and the rest of Caido's creation? How great was it, truly, the divide between her and the majority of her friends?

It was as if Astaroth had opened up a chasm beneath her feet. A yawning abyss of dreadful uncertainties she had no answers to.

Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on

/// forgive me father, for i have sinned
and as i kneel here now,

He says nothing and makes no movements, letting her deal with the information internally as much as she could handle. He supplies her with other little tidbits – the fact that he doesn’t kill them (it’s part of his not being sloppy technique that he’s so masterfully conducted). And when it finally settles in her and her pale head snaps up, his horned one tilts – the firelight dancing against his fire obsidian horns, pronged and sharp in the light as he meets her gaze in return.

“They do not and I do not.” He says by them not dying and him not killing and hunting people. Hunting, actually, was likely an occurrence but it never meant that he did kill them. His bloodlust had been solely reduced to deer and large creatures. “I used to, growing up, but it changed when I became Ancient. Like I said, I learned manners and how to be polite.” Gesturing to his still quite put together appearance, she’d not find a speck of blood amongst it or even a stain, or even a piece of lint.

There’s a small sparkle of amusement in the dark of his gaze as he meets hers over the firelight. “I keep my bloodlust solely focused on animals.” It was easier that way, because animals tended to think a lot less than people did, and when he let himself get to that point he really wasn’t looking for a difficult chase. Instead, he takes what he can get when it’s available, and he suffers for stretches when its not, but it’s always quiet and not broadly advertised.

Unless one was to see Danta’s skin at this present moment.

Astaroth

hands red with blood,
i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///

Maea

And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear

While her face remained half hidden behind her tented hands, it was only too easy to follow Maea's shifting sentiments. Despite the initial relief to hear that she didn't have to leap in defense of a friend or innocent whenever Asta got the itch, there was still the fact that he chose to do what he did. Even the cannibals of Whitebrim had ostensibly been forced into their actions by necessity, and while it had been horrible and wrong, the sheer misery of their existence had earned them at least a measure of pity.

But this person... Not only did Asta have plenty of options, but he was by the look of it both strong and healthy and lacked nothing. So why? The only answer she could see was that he did it because he wanted to. Plain as that.

"... it's something. But... sorry. Not sure it's enough." She sounded about as green around the edges as she looked. "Just for reference... is this common among the Ancient? Is it - how to say this - is it an accepted practice?" Or was she the odd one, for her shuddering and the urge to return down into the water, to cleanse herself off the awful sensation clinging to the skin? It was entirely imagined but there all the same.

Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on

/// forgive me father, for i have sinned
and as i kneel here now,

It’s far past the point of choice for him – after having done it for so long it just was. And when it came to the cannibalistic nature of the act, well, after so many times it becomes recurring – like a drug of sorts. All in all, Astaroth has been quite good about everything regarding it. So much so that Danta had laid out the rules to be followed and the Ancient had followed them to a T.

He doesn’t, admittedly, care if it’s enough for her. It’s just life. But he remains just as nonthreatening as possible – despite the ridiculously tall stature and spindlyness of a spider he often imposed. “Mm, well, it was back then. These days, though, it seems everyone’s tastes have shifted.” There’s no judgement in his tone, nor in the gaze that lifts up above the fire to peer back at the pale Ancient, before he shrugs his shoulder.

“Of course, it doesn’t matter how you feed your bloodlust so long as you do. You’re still an Ancient, at the end of the day, regardless of your preferences.” And it was as simple as that for the older man, one who seemed to be quite relaxed, playing that little game of adjusting the driftwood in the fire at random intervals to get it charred the same on all sides.

Astaroth

hands red with blood,
i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///

Maea

And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear

"Ah, well, no pressure then." There was a bite of sarcasm to her tone, softened by a hasty tug of a smile across her lips. Sucking in a deep breath, Maea dragged a hand through her hair, nails scrubbing hard at the scalp as if that might help her think past the awfulness of the conversation. It didn't, really, and being told she was allowed to choose her own prey wasn't quite as reassuring as she'd hoped.

"I'm... sorry. I can't seem to accept this the way I probably ought," she sighed. "Even though you've been kind..." A part of her really wanted to be okay with letting him continue as he always had - who was she to stop anyone from doing anything, after all? - but another part found it abhorrent to even look away. If she didn't try to change him, didn't that mean she tolerated the practice? And if she tolerated it... would she have to defend it, too?

"Why did you tell me all this?" A scowl darkened her expression as Maea gazed through the fire at the older Ancient.

Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on