Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
The encantados are definitely falling for the pebble show – darting up high enough that their pink heads can be seen cresting as they try to battle Deimos’ water magic to pull the pebbles toward them like it was a little ball to roll between them, playful like little sea dogs. It’s enough of a distraction that Astaroth watches them in his own amusement as he answers Deimos’ question, before the follow up is asked.
His dark gaze doesn’t leave the creatures as he gives an answer regarding it, his head dipping in a nod before he speaks in case Deimos is looking at him. “Not in terms of power, but limited in the freedom to do whatever I wanted.” He muses, before his dark gaze glances back toward Deimos with that very same sharp grin. “I was essentially a glorified attack dog.” His shoulder rises and falls with a shrug, taking the cane with it as it lifts and lands on the rocks beneath them with a little clack.
When the upper ranks of the Climb's Ancient's back then had said jump, Astaroth was faced with no other choice but to. Sometimes he enjoyed it, other times he didn't.
His dark gaze doesn’t leave the creatures as he gives an answer regarding it, his head dipping in a nod before he speaks in case Deimos is looking at him. “Not in terms of power, but limited in the freedom to do whatever I wanted.” He muses, before his dark gaze glances back toward Deimos with that very same sharp grin. “I was essentially a glorified attack dog.” His shoulder rises and falls with a shrug, taking the cane with it as it lifts and lands on the rocks beneath them with a little clack.
When the upper ranks of the Climb's Ancient's back then had said jump, Astaroth was faced with no other choice but to. Sometimes he enjoyed it, other times he didn't.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
