// go get your gun, get your gun //
Hey means absolutely jack shit in comparison to the thoughts invading his mind. The shove doesn’t even get him to come out of it. It does jostle his hands with a sting of pain that breaks through to him, but it sparks a hissing sound and a snap of his teeth, echoing into the too quiet room. His heartbeat continues to thunder, snarling a sound as the blonde starts to stand and get up.
Without the pressure around his lower half, his legs move to try and gain some amount of movement, trying to pull himself out of the binds. Danta’s gone in a flash, though, and the locks sound like dull ringing bells as the butcher very much does not stay put.
Fire lashes out and burns through the leather, leaving the tied portion hanging onto the bed, dark eyes looking glancing around to take in the space. There’s a patio, but they’re quite high up and while he was okay with breaking a wrist to get to the Maverick, he’d already had him right there. Now, with nothing immediately in sight, he opts to keep his limbs and wrists intact.
So, slinking off the bed, he looks to the door with a surprising amount of locks, before his shape shifts to that of the fyrhund. The canine prowls toward the door, doing a shit job at blending in with the dark room with the cracks of orange and his own orange gaze that stares at it in anticipation. He slinks over to the side of it, body filling with tension as he effectively hides behind where the door would open, trying to draw Danta in further once he returns so that the butcher can hunt him.
Without the pressure around his lower half, his legs move to try and gain some amount of movement, trying to pull himself out of the binds. Danta’s gone in a flash, though, and the locks sound like dull ringing bells as the butcher very much does not stay put.
Fire lashes out and burns through the leather, leaving the tied portion hanging onto the bed, dark eyes looking glancing around to take in the space. There’s a patio, but they’re quite high up and while he was okay with breaking a wrist to get to the Maverick, he’d already had him right there. Now, with nothing immediately in sight, he opts to keep his limbs and wrists intact.
So, slinking off the bed, he looks to the door with a surprising amount of locks, before his shape shifts to that of the fyrhund. The canine prowls toward the door, doing a shit job at blending in with the dark room with the cracks of orange and his own orange gaze that stares at it in anticipation. He slinks over to the side of it, body filling with tension as he effectively hides behind where the door would open, trying to draw Danta in further once he returns so that the butcher can hunt him.
Astaroth
// and lets find out what it does //
