Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
In all truth, Astaroth cares little about Talyson’s feelings over the matter. He’s simply being honest – and whether or not the messenger wishes to take it as an attack on him, Asta won’t say otherwise. Nor does he even say that it is the reason he’s amused. No, the fact is that he doesn’t know what the fuck Tal is doing, nor does he really need to know. He just knows that out of all of the ways to try and kill a tangelweed, it certainly seemed to be the most drawn out way.
So the grin remains, sharp toothed and bright. “I most certainly did.” He offers before nodding and settling, spaded tail waving idly in the air behind him as he looks back toward the charred husk as the small talk is made. “I do.” He does indeed live here. “Astaroth. Though most people call me Asta, these days.” He says by way of introduction, patiently waiting with that still too sharp grin. “And who might you be, young man?”
So the grin remains, sharp toothed and bright. “I most certainly did.” He offers before nodding and settling, spaded tail waving idly in the air behind him as he looks back toward the charred husk as the small talk is made. “I do.” He does indeed live here. “Astaroth. Though most people call me Asta, these days.” He says by way of introduction, patiently waiting with that still too sharp grin. “And who might you be, young man?”
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
