Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
Listening with a strict amount of attention offered to the Sword, Astaroth soaks up the information like a dry flower would take to water. Abandoned, a term new to him, has him pulling thoughts together from what he knew then versus what he knows now. “Acquired?” He asks, because that is the term that he had once known, even if he wasn’t born as such.
But dark brows rise and a sharp grin forms, snorting lightly at the idea of someone managing to rival the deities, because his goddess was one of the old ones, a hidden one for a time, as he’s come to learn. “I had heard about her barrier and the war, though alas it was after I’d fallen into my stone slumber.” A slight wince leaves him, before he shakes his head and the nostalgia vanishes. “Evidently I had fallen into it centuries before that.” Unbeknownst to him, of course.
But dark brows rise and a sharp grin forms, snorting lightly at the idea of someone managing to rival the deities, because his goddess was one of the old ones, a hidden one for a time, as he’s come to learn. “I had heard about her barrier and the war, though alas it was after I’d fallen into my stone slumber.” A slight wince leaves him, before he shakes his head and the nostalgia vanishes. “Evidently I had fallen into it centuries before that.” Unbeknownst to him, of course.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
