i don't belong among the angels // and baby that's just fine with me
He has no use for whatever secret treasure she’s deciding to bury – nor does he care what she does with it or doesn’t. He doesn’t live here, keeps to himself relatively well, and has found a place to stay in the Grounds quite content and comfortable. Whatever Thalassa does is of her own volition and Astaroth cares far little for what she gets up to on these shores.
But he does find her sneer amusing, letting a deep chuckle slip from him in response. “Aren’t you fiery.” He hums, thinking briefly for a moment of just how similar she was to the Ancient’s he’d known so long ago, back when the Climb was the true epicenter of everything. He flashes her a grin as she steps away, though, basking in the sunlight, tearing his dark gaze to look to Isar as he approaches, chin dipping in greeting to the shorter man.
His accent is vaguely familiar, yet Asta doesn’t speak on that. Instead, offering his own kind and gentlemanly “hello,” in return, his own dark gaze meeting Isar’s with a knowing openness. “There was a tournament happening here between demigods and other people of power.” He offers the information easily. “I am simply enjoying the warmth before I make the trek back to the Grounds.” And staying away from Danta for the moment, not wanting to be too much of a shadow on that parade.
“What has brought you out here, then?” He asks, inclining his head, flashing a sharp toothed grin – feeling a bit like a Disney princess attracting wildlife, but instead of birds and squirrels, he’s attracted a younger crowd of Ancients.
But he does find her sneer amusing, letting a deep chuckle slip from him in response. “Aren’t you fiery.” He hums, thinking briefly for a moment of just how similar she was to the Ancient’s he’d known so long ago, back when the Climb was the true epicenter of everything. He flashes her a grin as she steps away, though, basking in the sunlight, tearing his dark gaze to look to Isar as he approaches, chin dipping in greeting to the shorter man.
His accent is vaguely familiar, yet Asta doesn’t speak on that. Instead, offering his own kind and gentlemanly “hello,” in return, his own dark gaze meeting Isar’s with a knowing openness. “There was a tournament happening here between demigods and other people of power.” He offers the information easily. “I am simply enjoying the warmth before I make the trek back to the Grounds.” And staying away from Danta for the moment, not wanting to be too much of a shadow on that parade.
“What has brought you out here, then?” He asks, inclining his head, flashing a sharp toothed grin – feeling a bit like a Disney princess attracting wildlife, but instead of birds and squirrels, he’s attracted a younger crowd of Ancients.
Astaroth
the things i did up there were high school // but now i'm going for my degree
