/// forgive me father, for i have sinned
and as i kneel here now,
and as i kneel here now,
He doesn’t intend to stumble across Maea when he does – simply just trying to gain an idea of the parameters and general area of the Grounds that he’s now calling his home. It helps when it comes to knowing which places harbor the most avians (aka, places he should likely avoid), and what places he could get away with tending to his more darker needs.
It’s beneficial that he does find her when he does, though, the fyrhund approaching carefully, glimmering the heat from the cracks in his plate, the smoke that wafts from his snout as he approaches the pile of driftwood, breathing fire onto it before he withdraws and shifts back into himself – trying to prove he’s not a stranger, and when he isn’t spooked by the shift she harbors, that he’s quite a gentleman.
He's wearing that thick dark red coat, one he slips off of himself to leave him in a very well maintained black and gold trimmed, well-fitting shirt. “Let me help. Maea, wasn’t it? We can’t have you turn to stone.” He hums, draping the jacket around her, warm and searing hot from the travel here, before he settles back as the fire starts to dance orange flames across his exposed skin, skin that shows more and more as he starts to roll up his sleeves – far enough to see the edges of deep gouging scars along his forearms.
It’s beneficial that he does find her when he does, though, the fyrhund approaching carefully, glimmering the heat from the cracks in his plate, the smoke that wafts from his snout as he approaches the pile of driftwood, breathing fire onto it before he withdraws and shifts back into himself – trying to prove he’s not a stranger, and when he isn’t spooked by the shift she harbors, that he’s quite a gentleman.
He's wearing that thick dark red coat, one he slips off of himself to leave him in a very well maintained black and gold trimmed, well-fitting shirt. “Let me help. Maea, wasn’t it? We can’t have you turn to stone.” He hums, draping the jacket around her, warm and searing hot from the travel here, before he settles back as the fire starts to dance orange flames across his exposed skin, skin that shows more and more as he starts to roll up his sleeves – far enough to see the edges of deep gouging scars along his forearms.
Astaroth
hands red with blood,
i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
i know deep down, that i'll do it again ///
