// i am the righteous hand of god //
Feet scuffling closer on the crunching snow distracts Asta as he withdraws from the follow up crack on the dummy, allowing him to straighten up and to pass the dagger to the hand with the cane, freeing up a hand to run through the shaggy, unkept hair, pushing it back and looping around his black, pronged antler like horns. “Good morning, Maea.” He greets, flashing her a bright smile of greeting (harboring no inclination of how their last conversation had gone).
“You are not interrupting.” He offers in case it alleviates anything. “I grew somewhat weak while I dreamt in stone, so I am trying to strengthen myself back up.” And maybe one day he’ll get his magic back. For now, though, the cane plants in the snow and he pants a little as he regards Maea, inclining his head as he tries to warm up a little from the fire, snow melting against his skin and hair, collecting along his dark beard.
“Are you in search of a sparring partner?” He asks, curiously.
“You are not interrupting.” He offers in case it alleviates anything. “I grew somewhat weak while I dreamt in stone, so I am trying to strengthen myself back up.” And maybe one day he’ll get his magic back. For now, though, the cane plants in the snow and he pants a little as he regards Maea, inclining his head as he tries to warm up a little from the fire, snow melting against his skin and hair, collecting along his dark beard.
“Are you in search of a sparring partner?” He asks, curiously.
Astaroth
// i am the devil that you forgot //
