// with our one foot in the grave //
Dropping back onto his heels a small amount as Danta begins to help, distrusting of his shaky fingers to keep from breaking the perfectly on brand for him china, his dark gaze slips from the procedure they’re in the middle of as the ruckus occurs outside. He half expects it to be the crow starting more bullshit, until further inspection and the lure of Danta’s voice at his side, nudging him. He recognizes them, though, recalling the ice pick to both of their shoulders and his usual grin is replaced with a snarling face fit for his fyrhund shift.
“Works for me, thank you.” He says softly, a touch of more honesty and less poise than normal as he hands the cane to Dantalion to look after, before he’s stepping out of the door and shifting to his fyrhund shift. It’s with smoky black clouds and flames licking at his maw that Astaroth snarls a bit too viciously than he has before, almost like he’s going to take out the anxiety and fear the crow had instilled on these returning troublemakers.
There’s no time for words, of course, because he’s sure he warned them last time before they sunk a fucking ice pick into his shoulder, and despite the warning of the taller one missing the chunk in his leg, they’re back, and so the time for warning is over and with a hunger thrumming deep within him, he intends to make it painful.
He gives them one second to register what’s happening and think better of it before he launches at the ice cold party, smoke in his wake as he barrels right for the main offender.
“Works for me, thank you.” He says softly, a touch of more honesty and less poise than normal as he hands the cane to Dantalion to look after, before he’s stepping out of the door and shifting to his fyrhund shift. It’s with smoky black clouds and flames licking at his maw that Astaroth snarls a bit too viciously than he has before, almost like he’s going to take out the anxiety and fear the crow had instilled on these returning troublemakers.
There’s no time for words, of course, because he’s sure he warned them last time before they sunk a fucking ice pick into his shoulder, and despite the warning of the taller one missing the chunk in his leg, they’re back, and so the time for warning is over and with a hunger thrumming deep within him, he intends to make it painful.
He gives them one second to register what’s happening and think better of it before he launches at the ice cold party, smoke in his wake as he barrels right for the main offender.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
