[PQ+] my bare hands paved their paths

Astaroth

// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //

Regardless of whether it’s playfully said or not, there’s a deep growl that escapes the fyrhund’s maw in response. His tail keeps wagging, though, so evidently it seems like everything is fine. Sand flies at his back feet as Flora arrives, the butcher pointedly ignoring the good boy comment, until Flora’s telling him to be careful. His digging slows and he grows far more careful, trying not to crush or maim the box.

When he’s referred to again, the butcher rises and with his ears perfectly pointed toward Flora, there’s a snort of smoke that escape his nose as he lifts his paw, large and wholly incapable of carving something down.

So, shifting back and kneeling beside the hole and by both Flora and Danta, he reaches for that knife again in his boot. “This may be easier.” He murmurs, flashing a smile toward the both of them, still tempered but a bit more open. Grasping one of the pieces of obsidian, he sets the knife on it at an angle, utilizing the sharp blade with precision to try and create those little chips and shavings she needs.

---

Asta’s more careful while digging before abandoning that to shift back and grab his knife to try and carve out some shavings from the obsidian!

// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //