// we haven't won, and if we win, //
“Yes.” Astaroth says immediately – because holy shit he does feel like he’s been ran over by something heavy – even if the point of pain was in two particular places that he would suggest it might feel more pointed. It doesn’t, though, because the rest of him is just as exhausted, the stitches on his collarbone and arm are sore and painful, and he hates to admit that it does as much as it does.
He's silent as he listens and she arrives at his side, dark gaze slipping up to her and drifting to the water, adjusting just enough to take it and take a sip from his uninjured hand holding the water. Once he’s downed about half of it does he give it back. “Thank you, Isla, darling.” He hums quietly, throat hoarse from blacking out and being so dry. He hasn’t really looked to see what the damage was, but he can feel it clear as day enough to look at Isla and tilt his head a little into the pillow. “I was not intending to prove you right about injuries when we met next, here.” He admits, trying for a bit of a joke that falls flat, as does the traditional smile that graces his face – too flat and dull in all the proper places.
He's silent as he listens and she arrives at his side, dark gaze slipping up to her and drifting to the water, adjusting just enough to take it and take a sip from his uninjured hand holding the water. Once he’s downed about half of it does he give it back. “Thank you, Isla, darling.” He hums quietly, throat hoarse from blacking out and being so dry. He hasn’t really looked to see what the damage was, but he can feel it clear as day enough to look at Isla and tilt his head a little into the pillow. “I was not intending to prove you right about injuries when we met next, here.” He admits, trying for a bit of a joke that falls flat, as does the traditional smile that graces his face – too flat and dull in all the proper places.
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
