// with our one foot in the grave //
Snorting to the answer, Astaroth straightens up and shakes his head, scouting the same grove that Danta’s already heading toward. “I simply was not very lucky.” The butcher hums, scanning a nearby tree before Danta’s voice rings out to capture his attention. Looking over toward the tree in question and the apples out of the Maverick’s reach, he drifts closer and flashes a brattish too sharp grin.
“Too short, darling?” He asks, despite being too short himself to simply reach out and pluck the apple from the tree. Either way, he shifts a little to allow the blonde Ancient to climb up onto his back, prepared to move closer so that Danta can collect any apples that might seem like they harbor those strange seed ghosts.
“Too short, darling?” He asks, despite being too short himself to simply reach out and pluck the apple from the tree. Either way, he shifts a little to allow the blonde Ancient to climb up onto his back, prepared to move closer so that Danta can collect any apples that might seem like they harbor those strange seed ghosts.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
