Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
Content to indulge in the easy conversation here, Astaroth has heard that Deimos rules Halo. And with it, perhaps a familiarity with his accent – older than some of the accents amongst the region, but with a distinct lull of Whitebrim, but far more proper than any of his potential distant relatives harbored. “Quite lovely, actually, thank you for asking.” He hums, grin spreading a little, teeth sharp (filed down a fraction on the edges, aside from the fangs that were wholly sharp).
“Deepfrost and the snows make it colder, but not impossible to traverse.” He offers, adjusting the cane a little as he glances back over toward the water where the two men had made their wishes. “Though I will admit, I am excited for Flowerbirth to arrive already.” Yes, he’s aware it’s only been Deepfrost for all of the span of like, 5 minutes, but still. It’s cold. And he’s quite lizardlike in how he’s drawn to heat.
“Deepfrost and the snows make it colder, but not impossible to traverse.” He offers, adjusting the cane a little as he glances back over toward the water where the two men had made their wishes. “Though I will admit, I am excited for Flowerbirth to arrive already.” Yes, he’s aware it’s only been Deepfrost for all of the span of like, 5 minutes, but still. It’s cold. And he’s quite lizardlike in how he’s drawn to heat.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
