// we haven't won, and if we win, //
“It’s so superb.” Astaroth hums as he and Dantalion wander through the Climb. The warmth has him so content it’s quite possibly one of the most visible times the tall Ancient has been relaxed like this. “I would say I would like to sleep here for a hundred years, but alas, it isn’t as much fun when you aren’t awake to experience it.” He sighs a bit wistfully, cane clacking against the volcanic rock they wander upon, his dark gaze gleaming in excitement as a lava pool erupts nearby enough the heatwave surges toward them.
His gaze continues to wander, spotting a little revealed cavern, which he’d otherwise pay little attention to. But there’s something about it (a statuesque figure in the middle like a volcanic snow globe) that has him drifting closer, immediately moving the cane to block Danta in the stomach from continuing on to point out the figure hidden within.
“Well! What are the odds?” He chuckles, shooting that too sharp grin back at the Theocrat, before the butcher starts to head directly toward the woman to inspect the stone she’d turned into, imagining just what he might have looked like with a shiver of displeasure racing down his spine. “I’m afraid I can’t help much, darling, but don’t worry. We’ll get you out.” He hums, looking over toward Danta as he retrieves the matchbook the Maverick had given him, lighting it up so that Danta could have a flame to work off of before they continue.
Of course, he’ll help where he can, but he is still unfortunately quite weak with his magic thus far.
His gaze continues to wander, spotting a little revealed cavern, which he’d otherwise pay little attention to. But there’s something about it (a statuesque figure in the middle like a volcanic snow globe) that has him drifting closer, immediately moving the cane to block Danta in the stomach from continuing on to point out the figure hidden within.
“Well! What are the odds?” He chuckles, shooting that too sharp grin back at the Theocrat, before the butcher starts to head directly toward the woman to inspect the stone she’d turned into, imagining just what he might have looked like with a shiver of displeasure racing down his spine. “I’m afraid I can’t help much, darling, but don’t worry. We’ll get you out.” He hums, looking over toward Danta as he retrieves the matchbook the Maverick had given him, lighting it up so that Danta could have a flame to work off of before they continue.
Of course, he’ll help where he can, but he is still unfortunately quite weak with his magic thus far.
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
