Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
The second Asta had woken up had been a whirlwind himself, as well. From the old traditions of loathing and despising the Maverick, literal enemies at each other’s throats to now sharing the warmth the bed and Ancients have to offer one another, with some semblance of friendship amongst the chaos. It was only one more thing that the butcher had to come to terms with, having very much been in Maea’s shoes with the solitary lifestyle.
Regardless, his chuckle remains even as he adjusts his shirt and spots a little trinket on the mantle he’s been meaning to put up. “You never need to take it easy with me.” Even if it hurt – well, he’s used to it. “I have quite a high pain tolerance.” Evident by the scarring on his torso and the rest of him, deadened nerves by hardened skin. “I hope I did not bruise you either. I made sure not to bite too hard.” The sharp grin is offered easily, the truth of his words evident in how he dips his chin a little and collects the trinket.
It’s a windchime – the very same that Danta had gifted him. Along with it, a little glass lantern – not unlike the festival of lights, only not decorated to remember a lost loved one. Simply just a light source to add to his door, now that the warmth, the green of his shirt, and the comfort of the cloved mulled wine is settling in him.
Surprised by the offer, Maea will find Astaroth’s smile widen before he turns to her with both lantern and windchime in hand, dipping his head to her in agreement. “It would be my pleasure to accompany you.” And now that she knows just how he reacts with the gore crows, perhaps there’ll be no surprises if the beasts make an appearance. That, or Asta will have a true reason to let out his fyrhund’s pent up aggression under guise of stress. “Inform me of when and we can make the trek. For now, though, would you like to help me decorate my door? It seems far less festive than the rest of the Dusklight.”
Regardless, his chuckle remains even as he adjusts his shirt and spots a little trinket on the mantle he’s been meaning to put up. “You never need to take it easy with me.” Even if it hurt – well, he’s used to it. “I have quite a high pain tolerance.” Evident by the scarring on his torso and the rest of him, deadened nerves by hardened skin. “I hope I did not bruise you either. I made sure not to bite too hard.” The sharp grin is offered easily, the truth of his words evident in how he dips his chin a little and collects the trinket.
It’s a windchime – the very same that Danta had gifted him. Along with it, a little glass lantern – not unlike the festival of lights, only not decorated to remember a lost loved one. Simply just a light source to add to his door, now that the warmth, the green of his shirt, and the comfort of the cloved mulled wine is settling in him.
Surprised by the offer, Maea will find Astaroth’s smile widen before he turns to her with both lantern and windchime in hand, dipping his head to her in agreement. “It would be my pleasure to accompany you.” And now that she knows just how he reacts with the gore crows, perhaps there’ll be no surprises if the beasts make an appearance. That, or Asta will have a true reason to let out his fyrhund’s pent up aggression under guise of stress. “Inform me of when and we can make the trek. For now, though, would you like to help me decorate my door? It seems far less festive than the rest of the Dusklight.”
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
