Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
“He was so disappointed when I kept turning them away that he brought me wine as an apology.” Astaroth hums with a laugh, before he nods in a dramatic flair of amusement to hear her say she’d stayed one night. He assumes that she might have dealt with the same fate, too, had she stayed there longer. Or perhaps it was entirely one sided from Dantalion, getting back at him for the things they did in the Climb to one another.
Ah well, he can think on it later as he mulls over her question and notices her attention shift – finding it a small amount amusing given that they’re in a brothel and he’s positive he’s seen Dantalion do so much worse on a particular booth’s table in the corner over there. But, he doesn’t shrug it off completely, just unbuttoning it. “You’re welcome to come with.” He offers as he mulls over the question, nodding to the bartender to keep their drinks precisely where they were because he’s sure they’d be back (along with the cane), and he starts to walk – assuming she’s following him through the halls to a room marked with a deep red curve over the door.
“Mm, yes, Frey’s Breath is in the Climb.” He muses, unlocking the door to slip inside and holding it open for her to join him. Inside, his room is relatively bare aside from little trinkets of his travels collected on shelving, and a wardrobe of quite fine clothing. The bed is put together and the fireplace rages warmth throughout as he drifts in further and keeps his back to her as he shrugs out of the shirt. If she were to look, she’d spy the deep carves of scars along his shoulders and down along his back and hips, disappearing under the waistband of his pants, all down his arms to his elbows. “Perchance you’re looking for Rae’s Lillies? They were quite rare back then, I imagine they may still be.” Casting a glance over his shoulder toward her as he folds the ruined shirt to set in a pile of what appears to be lost causes, Astaroth starts to head toward his wardrobe, picking through the hangers thoughtfully.
Ah well, he can think on it later as he mulls over her question and notices her attention shift – finding it a small amount amusing given that they’re in a brothel and he’s positive he’s seen Dantalion do so much worse on a particular booth’s table in the corner over there. But, he doesn’t shrug it off completely, just unbuttoning it. “You’re welcome to come with.” He offers as he mulls over the question, nodding to the bartender to keep their drinks precisely where they were because he’s sure they’d be back (along with the cane), and he starts to walk – assuming she’s following him through the halls to a room marked with a deep red curve over the door.
“Mm, yes, Frey’s Breath is in the Climb.” He muses, unlocking the door to slip inside and holding it open for her to join him. Inside, his room is relatively bare aside from little trinkets of his travels collected on shelving, and a wardrobe of quite fine clothing. The bed is put together and the fireplace rages warmth throughout as he drifts in further and keeps his back to her as he shrugs out of the shirt. If she were to look, she’d spy the deep carves of scars along his shoulders and down along his back and hips, disappearing under the waistband of his pants, all down his arms to his elbows. “Perchance you’re looking for Rae’s Lillies? They were quite rare back then, I imagine they may still be.” Casting a glance over his shoulder toward her as he folds the ruined shirt to set in a pile of what appears to be lost causes, Astaroth starts to head toward his wardrobe, picking through the hangers thoughtfully.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
