Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
He would, though, if that was what she wanted. He would collect his things and depart, leaving her to his bed and the warmth of his fireplace roaring and crackling and lighting up the otherwise dark room. At the very least, meticulous as Astaroth is, there is no scent of blood or anything untoward within the confines of the room – but the hint of a cleaning product and his typical scent, one a mixture of woodsmoke, amber, a hint of musk, amongst another hint of vetiver root that adds to that woodsmoke scent, one that’s nestled into his blankets.
But she tells him that she isn’t going to make him leave, and as such the gentleman butcher drifts in after closing and locking the door (to ensure nobody else intrudes, despite everyone knowing to stay away from his space anyway), humming a note of understanding as he places his cane in its usual spot beside the fireplace, stooping down to grab a couple more pieces of wood to toss onto it, utilizing his magic once more to get the flames to lick around it to pick it up. “If you are sure.” He offers while he gets the fire roaring higher.
“Do make yourself comfortable.” He offers her, casting a glance over his shoulder toward her to see whether or not she’ll move from the space she’d rooted in his room. It isn’t a long lasting glance, not as he snags a pillow from a chair in the room and one of the fur blankets, already prepping a space on the floor in front of the fireplace for him to sleep.
But she tells him that she isn’t going to make him leave, and as such the gentleman butcher drifts in after closing and locking the door (to ensure nobody else intrudes, despite everyone knowing to stay away from his space anyway), humming a note of understanding as he places his cane in its usual spot beside the fireplace, stooping down to grab a couple more pieces of wood to toss onto it, utilizing his magic once more to get the flames to lick around it to pick it up. “If you are sure.” He offers while he gets the fire roaring higher.
“Do make yourself comfortable.” He offers her, casting a glance over his shoulder toward her to see whether or not she’ll move from the space she’d rooted in his room. It isn’t a long lasting glance, not as he snags a pillow from a chair in the room and one of the fur blankets, already prepping a space on the floor in front of the fireplace for him to sleep.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
