Astaroth
// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //
Remaining silent, because his throat is still on fire and his voice is disappearing slowly but surely, Astaroth remains there in the same position, head tilted toward the ground and propped up only by his pronged horns tearing up the earth beneath him, he listens with a flick of his tail as if to say yeah, you did. But then she goes on to say that she called him that because it was more of a fear of herself, and Astaroth coughs up another bit of blood, pushing himself up enough to try and sit up, to wipe away the remnants of blood on his face.
“This – This is your problem.” He says through a voice that alternates between being loud enough to hear and a whisper on the wind as it goes out and returns. “Of course it’s going to be scary. Change is always frightening.” He sucks in a short breath again, against bruised ribs and his scarred chest. “But you have got to start living with it. Compartmentalize it, I don’t fucking care. I do.” Because he isn’t this mess running around the Dusklight and the Inner Quarter. He’s this mess on rare occasions when it’s bottled up too hard and come to close. Otherwise? He’s a perfect gentleman by day and a nightmare for those that have earned it.
But then as she calls him an easy target, his dark hollowed gaze focuses on her, and after his lips part to speak and he tries to strain through it two entire times with nothing but air escaping them, bruised arms lifting to press the palm of his hands into his eyes, Astaroth starts to tremble again and his tail begins to lash out behind him. “F-Find someone else to project your fucking fea-fears onto.” He finally manages to grit out, teeth sharp and gnashing over and over again as he tries to continue keeping that vocal tonality.
“This – This is your problem.” He says through a voice that alternates between being loud enough to hear and a whisper on the wind as it goes out and returns. “Of course it’s going to be scary. Change is always frightening.” He sucks in a short breath again, against bruised ribs and his scarred chest. “But you have got to start living with it. Compartmentalize it, I don’t fucking care. I do.” Because he isn’t this mess running around the Dusklight and the Inner Quarter. He’s this mess on rare occasions when it’s bottled up too hard and come to close. Otherwise? He’s a perfect gentleman by day and a nightmare for those that have earned it.
But then as she calls him an easy target, his dark hollowed gaze focuses on her, and after his lips part to speak and he tries to strain through it two entire times with nothing but air escaping them, bruised arms lifting to press the palm of his hands into his eyes, Astaroth starts to tremble again and his tail begins to lash out behind him. “F-Find someone else to project your fucking fea-fears onto.” He finally manages to grit out, teeth sharp and gnashing over and over again as he tries to continue keeping that vocal tonality.
// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //
