Astaroth
i think i'm the devil in disguise, here's my state of mind
Nostalgia, for the butcher, is a cruel mistress. Bolstered by the need of recalling what it was like to be the version of him he’s trying to return to yet also reminded of the cruelties sustained within the very caverns below them, Astaroth finds that it sits better as both a warning and a reminder. The mention of Frey’s breath perks him up, and rather than stand there as a tall, lanky gargoyle, he finally moves a little. Loosening his limbs as a breath escapes him, he nods and glances back down the cavern from which they’d emerged from.
“Hunting for lilies, I presume?” He asks, gesturing with the cane still in hand. His gaze drops a moment after back toward the peryton, perhaps feeling bad for the moment that the companion remains trapped within Deimos’ strong arm. “Curious question, does he have a taste for gore crows?” Nodding toward Belial, the butcher raises a dark brow as he focuses on Deimos again. He makes a lot of assumptions here, but the largest two being that Belial was male, and that he was carnivorous.
He’s pretty sure the peryton is the first one he’s ever seen.
“Hunting for lilies, I presume?” He asks, gesturing with the cane still in hand. His gaze drops a moment after back toward the peryton, perhaps feeling bad for the moment that the companion remains trapped within Deimos’ strong arm. “Curious question, does he have a taste for gore crows?” Nodding toward Belial, the butcher raises a dark brow as he focuses on Deimos again. He makes a lot of assumptions here, but the largest two being that Belial was male, and that he was carnivorous.
He’s pretty sure the peryton is the first one he’s ever seen.
give me destruction, tell me i'm scrumptious
i'm a fucking delight
i'm a fucking delight
