reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
Hearing her own apology has him wanting to shake his head – this version of himself wanting to take all the blame and pain and bottle it up in a bucket of reasons why no one should love him or get close to him. Reasons why he hadn’t allowed himself to do it in the first place. But it’s her next sentence that has his brows pinching, a few loose locks of hair falling into his face as he does shake his head softly, reaching up to try to brush it back behind the smooth obsidian of his pronged horns, before it falls out again. “You’re not stupid.” He says immediately. “You’re brilliant and strong and wonderful. I’m just a king of false advertising.” He plays the part in order to get what he wants out of things. It’s how he’s always done it. The Gentleman Butcher that had replaced the Butcher of Whitebrim.
At the end of the day, he was still dubbed the same butcher title. It extends to relationships, too, as he’s learned over and over again.
Luckily, Maea’s so much easier to be angry at, and as he takes a turn toward getting them out of the treeline and out into the open fields where the sun can beat down and bring out the vibrant orange, red, and green iridescents of his horns, he nods with just as much vigor as his half-crazed mind allows him. “She was worried she was gonna be a monster like me. So she thought she could change.. Me? Or something?? Like… Like she’s capable of getting as low as I have t'make her make the choices I made?” It’s strange to let the mixture of self deprication and ego meld together like this, but he does it with surprising ease as the grasses pass by his calves and he glances back toward her to offer out his arm for her to take over a branch that’s particularly tall coming up upon their path.
His laugh continues again with the idea of a stony slumber – something that in his mind would be too kind of a thing to do, and it’s with those too sharp teeth in the curve of a dark grin that he shakes his head. “No. Told her I’d kill her, though. I think that’s probably why she was so panicked when we saw her at Frey’s Breath.” She probably thought he’d act on it then and there.
But something about the promise and letting it wait seemed more satisfying for the butcher than immediately giving in.
At the end of the day, he was still dubbed the same butcher title. It extends to relationships, too, as he’s learned over and over again.
Luckily, Maea’s so much easier to be angry at, and as he takes a turn toward getting them out of the treeline and out into the open fields where the sun can beat down and bring out the vibrant orange, red, and green iridescents of his horns, he nods with just as much vigor as his half-crazed mind allows him. “She was worried she was gonna be a monster like me. So she thought she could change.. Me? Or something?? Like… Like she’s capable of getting as low as I have t'make her make the choices I made?” It’s strange to let the mixture of self deprication and ego meld together like this, but he does it with surprising ease as the grasses pass by his calves and he glances back toward her to offer out his arm for her to take over a branch that’s particularly tall coming up upon their path.
His laugh continues again with the idea of a stony slumber – something that in his mind would be too kind of a thing to do, and it’s with those too sharp teeth in the curve of a dark grin that he shakes his head. “No. Told her I’d kill her, though. I think that’s probably why she was so panicked when we saw her at Frey’s Breath.” She probably thought he’d act on it then and there.
But something about the promise and letting it wait seemed more satisfying for the butcher than immediately giving in.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
