Astaroth
// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //
Staring at the fire does little to temper the one beginning to rage in him, so much so that he’s stock still aside from how his jaw works, aside from the quiet “I am from Whitebrim, I know what it is like.” That’s grit out. But he silences himself because he told her he would listen, but he doesn’t expect the words that fall from her lips to hit him like a fucking brick. His sharp teeth accidentally bite down on the inside of his cheek and a flood of iron coats his tongue that he nearly chokes on in the laugh that barks out of him.
“First— First of all, the portal is to be built within the bonfire, is it not? If they were not Ancient, they likely wouldn’t make it past the fire in the first place and simply burn to death.” His chest feels impossibly tight as he reaches up to wipe at the corner of his mouth where a streak of blood has tried to escape. “Second, I thought you had just apologized for my misunderstanding that you insinuated that the man that attacked you and I were the same.” There’s an unamused smile that graces his face in half a grimace, one side of his mouth tinged red with the blood still in his mouth.
“But now you wish for me to treat them with the very same punishment I endured?” His voice is a touch shaky, as if thinking about the mere idea of it has brought him back, beaten and tied down in the Climb for the gore crows to feast on day after day.
Another laugh leaves him, this one a touch manic as the bonfire flames lift higher in reaction to the inner turmoil and he turns from her, hands lifting to rake through his hair, to try and calm himself down. “Everything— Everything I have done or do in the future is torture and monstrous to you, but gods, Maea. It is a mercy compared to that. It is mercy.” His voice cracks, tail that had started to lash stills so suddenly as it snakes around his leg and his shoulders bunch with a vibration of tension that seems to suggest he wants to either implode or combust.
“First— First of all, the portal is to be built within the bonfire, is it not? If they were not Ancient, they likely wouldn’t make it past the fire in the first place and simply burn to death.” His chest feels impossibly tight as he reaches up to wipe at the corner of his mouth where a streak of blood has tried to escape. “Second, I thought you had just apologized for my misunderstanding that you insinuated that the man that attacked you and I were the same.” There’s an unamused smile that graces his face in half a grimace, one side of his mouth tinged red with the blood still in his mouth.
“But now you wish for me to treat them with the very same punishment I endured?” His voice is a touch shaky, as if thinking about the mere idea of it has brought him back, beaten and tied down in the Climb for the gore crows to feast on day after day.
Another laugh leaves him, this one a touch manic as the bonfire flames lift higher in reaction to the inner turmoil and he turns from her, hands lifting to rake through his hair, to try and calm himself down. “Everything— Everything I have done or do in the future is torture and monstrous to you, but gods, Maea. It is a mercy compared to that. It is mercy.” His voice cracks, tail that had started to lash stills so suddenly as it snakes around his leg and his shoulders bunch with a vibration of tension that seems to suggest he wants to either implode or combust.
// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //
