who told you what was down here

// with our one foot in the grave //

“Ah, if only it was true.” Astaroth offers, running his hands through his hair to push away the dark locks, now soaked in water. “They tend to enjoy the caverns here as well.” At least they had back in his day, but was often pushed out from how bustling the Climb had been back then. Now, he supposes they have taken over, free reign over the entirety of the Climb. So far, though, they’re in the clear, and unless something happens Astaroth is more than content acting as if they don’t exist.

He's just finishing adjusting his coat when the cane clicks on the floor of the cavern, leaving little hollow echoes as they start to walk and he notices her bleak smile. “I had last seen them around Frey’s Breath, but it has been quite some time so perhaps they have moved..?” Expanded, grown in secrecy elsewhere within the confines of the hellish heat the Climb had to offer.

Not that the hellish heat was bad. If anything, Astaroth seems positively limber from it, content and comfortable within the heat as if born from the fires himself. “At the very least, we shall see, mm?” He asks, flashing her that sharp toothed grin as his tall stature starts to take the lead, deeper and deeper until the barrows start to open into wider caverns, with lava leaks illuminating their surfaces in crimson.

Astaroth

// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //