Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
Well this wasn’t really the time or place to chat, and so the butcher keeps his thoughts to himself, trying to pretend that things were normal even if it were feeling like anything but. So, dressed up in a teal vest with gold accents, a light grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up and buttoned up tight, the butcher has swapped his usual wingtip shoes for a pair of boots because of the sand, with another blonde at his side.
The sun beats down, warming his skin, the salt of the sea floods his nose, and he picks the path from the skyship toward the meet up point, having asked Danta whether he knew what exactly they were doing today for the guild. Not that it would change his offer of help, but call it pure curiosity.
As Flora comes into view, Astaroth drifts toward her and breaks away from the side of the Maverick, flashing a sharp smile toward the Doubletake in greeting, a touch more reserved. “Hello, Flora, darling.”
The sun beats down, warming his skin, the salt of the sea floods his nose, and he picks the path from the skyship toward the meet up point, having asked Danta whether he knew what exactly they were doing today for the guild. Not that it would change his offer of help, but call it pure curiosity.
As Flora comes into view, Astaroth drifts toward her and breaks away from the side of the Maverick, flashing a sharp smile toward the Doubletake in greeting, a touch more reserved. “Hello, Flora, darling.”
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
