// with our one foot in the grave //
He isn’t in the mood for charm and small talk right now, which thankfully doesn’t need to happen with how happy the inn is to be visited by their Theocrat. The butcher is content to simply melt into the background, offering charming too sharp smiles and nods if directly referred to, which is thankfully not all that much. And before he knows it, rooms are secured, and he very nearly protests at the idea of sleeping alone when Danta’s slipping one of the keys into his pocket and guiding the butcher toward one singular room – the best room they have, that they have given the Maverick.
His shoulders slump with a bit of relief, nodding as he takes in the view of lightning strikes across the barren land they’d just left from – wondering if that speck of black he sees is where they had been standing when the lightning had struck the tree. But immediately forgoing it for raising the fire in the fireplace nice and toasty, before beginning to peel off the fine clothes that are most certainly not fine anymore. “This is perfect, thank you, darling.” He says in the air of a relieved whisper – turning to Danta to offer a gentler smile when he notices the metal tub in the corner of the room and is immediately drawn to its side, whispering a soft "oh thank Dygra's beautiful face", fiddling with the knobs to get very hot water pouring into it with the full intention of soaking his sore and bruised body.
A bruised body that still hasn’t quite been revealed yet, but as Astaroth starts to remove the layers, it becomes quite evident that it’s the reason he would not have been able to make it back to the Inner Quarter. His chest and back are bruised, with deep purple splotching all along his sides and a few superficial and already mostly healed scratches and bruising on his arms as he tosses the shirt into a pile and stiffly starts to work on getting out of the rest of his clothes.
His shoulders slump with a bit of relief, nodding as he takes in the view of lightning strikes across the barren land they’d just left from – wondering if that speck of black he sees is where they had been standing when the lightning had struck the tree. But immediately forgoing it for raising the fire in the fireplace nice and toasty, before beginning to peel off the fine clothes that are most certainly not fine anymore. “This is perfect, thank you, darling.” He says in the air of a relieved whisper – turning to Danta to offer a gentler smile when he notices the metal tub in the corner of the room and is immediately drawn to its side, whispering a soft "oh thank Dygra's beautiful face", fiddling with the knobs to get very hot water pouring into it with the full intention of soaking his sore and bruised body.
A bruised body that still hasn’t quite been revealed yet, but as Astaroth starts to remove the layers, it becomes quite evident that it’s the reason he would not have been able to make it back to the Inner Quarter. His chest and back are bruised, with deep purple splotching all along his sides and a few superficial and already mostly healed scratches and bruising on his arms as he tosses the shirt into a pile and stiffly starts to work on getting out of the rest of his clothes.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
