// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //
“It pains me to have it so infrequently.” The butcher laments, before he shakes his head with a small sigh, nostalgic as he is already despite the freshness beneath them. In fact, the thought of it and the tone of his voice has him leaning in to snatch another bite to mull it over as he saws at the arm, at least until the tendons are torn and he can utilize his strength to pop the arm out of the socket.
Nodding despite the darkness and the moonlight, Astaroth flashes her a grin as he grips the arm. “Unfortunately they are not that populated. However, a few can be found.” And perhaps that makes the chase that much more worth it with the possibility of missing out. The work that went into it would surely be satisfying to come to fruition.
She’s bright as can be, and he feels illuminated by her bloodied appearance, chuckling as he tugs the arm free and plants his hand to keep from losing his balance, placing it on the bed of undisturbed snow for the time being, before he shifts around to the other side. “In each and every one of them, darling.” He hums, before he starts carving into the arm again. “The placement varies depending on the footwear, but it is quite easy to have a cobbler make adjustments to fit one. A little hidden compartment so you never need be without.” It was from his Whitebrim days, of course, but certain habits died hard. And despite how unlike Whitebrim he was these days, the cannibalism and the survivability remained ingrained.
Nodding despite the darkness and the moonlight, Astaroth flashes her a grin as he grips the arm. “Unfortunately they are not that populated. However, a few can be found.” And perhaps that makes the chase that much more worth it with the possibility of missing out. The work that went into it would surely be satisfying to come to fruition.
She’s bright as can be, and he feels illuminated by her bloodied appearance, chuckling as he tugs the arm free and plants his hand to keep from losing his balance, placing it on the bed of undisturbed snow for the time being, before he shifts around to the other side. “In each and every one of them, darling.” He hums, before he starts carving into the arm again. “The placement varies depending on the footwear, but it is quite easy to have a cobbler make adjustments to fit one. A little hidden compartment so you never need be without.” It was from his Whitebrim days, of course, but certain habits died hard. And despite how unlike Whitebrim he was these days, the cannibalism and the survivability remained ingrained.
Astaroth
// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //
