// smile like you mean it //
“At times.” He answers honestly, snorting softly as he reaches for his own wine to take a sip from, downing a decent amount of it in that sip. “My geography is quite terrible these days.” As if the world had shifted and changed in the time since he’d fallen asleep and woken back up.
Poetic, in a way that’s entirely truthful.
Raising a brow with clear delight at Flora’s offer, he nods and flashes a grin of acceptance to the offer — because if there was one way to get Astaroth’s appreciation, it’s through beautiful clothing.
As for his tongue and the show he offers without realizing it fully, his brow lifts as he looks down to her, the angle of his horned head removing some of the space between them. “Like what?” He starts to probe. That is, until he’s speaking on scars and she turns a bit less bright, as sorrow places itself into their otherwise joyful conversation.
“I did not know that. I am sorry for your loss.” He murmurs, and his arm winds around her a bit tighter to offer comfort where he can. His smile fades to nothing as she continues and he hums a touch thoughtfully, setting the glass down again to reach up and unbutton another button of his shirt, revealing the brutal scars on display. “Some that perhaps had better memories.” He starts to say, before his gaze slips back to her face. “These are hidden because I do not wish to remember in my day to day.” But for the sake of the conversation, he would show her. He invites her to ask, on his terms, preventing his panic over them. “I believe that having… mm, a choice in how you reflect on your physical or mental scars is important.”
But then again, Astaroth never does well with being blindsided. He’s far too controlling for that.
Poetic, in a way that’s entirely truthful.
Raising a brow with clear delight at Flora’s offer, he nods and flashes a grin of acceptance to the offer — because if there was one way to get Astaroth’s appreciation, it’s through beautiful clothing.
As for his tongue and the show he offers without realizing it fully, his brow lifts as he looks down to her, the angle of his horned head removing some of the space between them. “Like what?” He starts to probe. That is, until he’s speaking on scars and she turns a bit less bright, as sorrow places itself into their otherwise joyful conversation.
“I did not know that. I am sorry for your loss.” He murmurs, and his arm winds around her a bit tighter to offer comfort where he can. His smile fades to nothing as she continues and he hums a touch thoughtfully, setting the glass down again to reach up and unbutton another button of his shirt, revealing the brutal scars on display. “Some that perhaps had better memories.” He starts to say, before his gaze slips back to her face. “These are hidden because I do not wish to remember in my day to day.” But for the sake of the conversation, he would show her. He invites her to ask, on his terms, preventing his panic over them. “I believe that having… mm, a choice in how you reflect on your physical or mental scars is important.”
But then again, Astaroth never does well with being blindsided. He’s far too controlling for that.
Astaroth
// take a chance and you could seize it //
