// you've got your finger on the trigger //
It’s still quite dark out, thanks to LongNight, and with it the cold continues to creep in. But despite everything, Astaroth is warmed by the question he has poised on the tip of his tongue, and helped by the fire that he keeps close to his chest on the trek to the Temple.
Pushing through the doors and promptly closing it behind him, shaking out any of the snow that may have stuck to his clothes, he relishes in the warmth already emitting from the Temple as he goes to speak. “Charlie, my dear, do you have a moment to spare?” He asks, drifting in deeper and allowing his dark eyes to adjust to the light within as well as any decor she may have added since the last time Astaroth had been here.
He waits patiently, pulling his gloves off and folding them slightly, sticking them into the pocket of his coat.
Pushing through the doors and promptly closing it behind him, shaking out any of the snow that may have stuck to his clothes, he relishes in the warmth already emitting from the Temple as he goes to speak. “Charlie, my dear, do you have a moment to spare?” He asks, drifting in deeper and allowing his dark eyes to adjust to the light within as well as any decor she may have added since the last time Astaroth had been here.
He waits patiently, pulling his gloves off and folding them slightly, sticking them into the pocket of his coat.
Astaroth
// but your trigger finger's mine //
