an imi-tater

you must burn brighter than ever

Melita had to muffle and choke back her laughter again once the ducks descended, and the meltdown persisted. The way the woman unraveled reminded her of the water balloon activity, and she half-hoped this was one of the same individuals caught in both. The screams were something to behold – potent, powerful, and the demigod’s eyes widened as the stranger seemed to spiral in a matter of seconds. “I wonder if she’ll stroke out,” she croaked in her old woman voice, raising her staff to smack it against the pavement a couple times.

Watching and wondering if they should make it worse or if she was fine content with the matter, she flicked her gaze to Astaroth instead. “Think we’ve done enough damage for the moment?” Unless he had more up his sleeve – at which, by all means.

Melita

// allow me to introduce myself //

The meltdown only seems to get worse with the brightly hued ducks, something that Asta finds incredibly amusing despite how he has to hide it. The shadow continues its puppeting mimicry, the outrage even more comical than the Karen’s own actions – making for quite the hilarious discrepancy. “Mm, perhaps she will.” He manages with a low rumble of a laugh he hides again.

At her question and the look shot his way, the butcher’s head tilts slightly and he smirks just above the scarf hiding his bearded chin. A glint of dark mischief in his gaze seems to suggest he isn’t finished yet, and instead he stands and stretches a touch, fixing a wrinkle that had begun to form in his jacket sleeve. “Not quite.” Flashing a wink toward her, he steps toward the Karen in a motion that seems to suggest he might help her – plucking up one of the bright green ducks and pocketing it before a quick and quiet little murmur of the situation from the merchant that can’t believe his luck with the bullshit the woman’s currently dealing with. The Karen over talks, trying to argue about everything, and after a few moments of trying to simply sate her anger to get her to leave – he lets a portion of his haunt loose across his features.

His horns extend, sharp and pointed and curved like spider legs, his face flickering away from the charming smile he’d had previously into something akin to a skull with the hollow holes for eyes and teeth needle-like and a voice that’s dissonant enough to send the Karen screaming and bolting down the path back to whence she came. And just like that, the butcher pulls in all of the Haunt and flashes a wink toward the merchant, stepping over the rubber ducks back toward the Honeybee to offer his arm. “There. Shall we?” And with the mimicry and chaos of this platform of Stormbreak, the butcher seems quite content to take the rest of the trip home, huddled around a fire to the Grounds once he bids Melita farewell.

- FIN

Astaroth

// i'm the one who pulls all the strings, son //