// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //
With the creature happily distracted to burn until the fire goes out, yet simultaneously feeling as though no progress had been made, the butcher stalks off. In fact, the fyrhund doesn’t even look at Danta before bolting into the trees of the jungle, drifting further and further until finally he’s made it into the Tanglefoot in what he’s sure will bring him that much closer to Torchline. But he isn’t quite ready to take on the throng of people and civilization, teeth grifting together and a growl of frustration leaving him once he’d finally shifted back into himself.
It is with a bit more chaos and upset that Astaroth drifts deeper into the jungle, dagger withdrawn from his shoe at about the same time that a treeflit dares to approach, getting close and into his space with its vibrating harmonies, wings fluttering in a rainbow hue. It isn’t a crow, so Astaroth doesn’t care too much, but he’s pissed off enough to seem like he really cares.
It’s a moment of overkill, the butcher gritting his sharp teeth, daring the creature to come closer, and the second it does Astaroth unleashes any of that pent up aggression on the poor thing in the form of his bloodboon magic. The knife slices easily in practiced motions, only unlike with Maea, Asta cares little for being careful around potential harm to himself. The blade sinks in, slicing at his left arm in a long slow line before lifting to run perpendicular to his collarbone, and as the iron fills the air, the target is sighted as the treeflit comes barreling through, only to drop to the ground in a helpless twitch.
It is with a bit more chaos and upset that Astaroth drifts deeper into the jungle, dagger withdrawn from his shoe at about the same time that a treeflit dares to approach, getting close and into his space with its vibrating harmonies, wings fluttering in a rainbow hue. It isn’t a crow, so Astaroth doesn’t care too much, but he’s pissed off enough to seem like he really cares.
It’s a moment of overkill, the butcher gritting his sharp teeth, daring the creature to come closer, and the second it does Astaroth unleashes any of that pent up aggression on the poor thing in the form of his bloodboon magic. The knife slices easily in practiced motions, only unlike with Maea, Asta cares little for being careful around potential harm to himself. The blade sinks in, slicing at his left arm in a long slow line before lifting to run perpendicular to his collarbone, and as the iron fills the air, the target is sighted as the treeflit comes barreling through, only to drop to the ground in a helpless twitch.
Astaroth
// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //
