there's an angel on your story and a demon in your bed
feels a bit surreal, feeling bad, don't feel it yet
feels a bit surreal, feeling bad, don't feel it yet
He nearly towers over Catalina, though all of his charming grace makes up for it as he dips his chin in a nod of greeting toward her before they get ready to ask the candidates a variety of questions. It’s a curious thing to witness for the butcher, lingering on what he could believe to be truthful and what seemed more like stretched out fiction. Some seemed to have expert knowledge of things related to the ship that even Astaroth wasn’t familiar enough with to know whether it was correct or not – but the confidence of which was enough to make him consider each one carefully.
Yes, including the one with the oil slick hair in an almost poor version of the slicked back look he himself sports. So he mulls it over, listening as Catalina begins to speak, his dark mahogany gaze lingering on the shorter redhead – finding her logic solid even if it was granted with a touch of her bubbly personality.
“I have to agree in regard to the third candidate.” He begins, straightening his posture a fraction, his spaded tail waving low and casual above the deck of the ship as his gaze lands on Thalassa again. “After all of those brilliant points made by our friend here, I want to also add that alongside his motivations, it leads me to think that he may not have your best interests in mind, either.”
Gesturing lightly, uncaring whether or not his criticisms are noticed, heard, or take offense, the butcher continues on with that saccharine smile. “The last thing the Marauder needs is a coup, mm?” Playfully said as he tilts his attention back toward the third candidate and the too sharp grin is on display again. “And for what it’s worth, darling, you can continue to admire my clothing so long as you do not touch.” The man had been eyeing it up, after all. And the look in his gaze matches Astaroth’s own in terms of hunger, and he wonders whether or not the shorter man would dare to try and lay a hand on any fiber of the finery he wears.
Astaroth also eliminates the third candidate!
Yes, including the one with the oil slick hair in an almost poor version of the slicked back look he himself sports. So he mulls it over, listening as Catalina begins to speak, his dark mahogany gaze lingering on the shorter redhead – finding her logic solid even if it was granted with a touch of her bubbly personality.
“I have to agree in regard to the third candidate.” He begins, straightening his posture a fraction, his spaded tail waving low and casual above the deck of the ship as his gaze lands on Thalassa again. “After all of those brilliant points made by our friend here, I want to also add that alongside his motivations, it leads me to think that he may not have your best interests in mind, either.”
Gesturing lightly, uncaring whether or not his criticisms are noticed, heard, or take offense, the butcher continues on with that saccharine smile. “The last thing the Marauder needs is a coup, mm?” Playfully said as he tilts his attention back toward the third candidate and the too sharp grin is on display again. “And for what it’s worth, darling, you can continue to admire my clothing so long as you do not touch.” The man had been eyeing it up, after all. And the look in his gaze matches Astaroth’s own in terms of hunger, and he wonders whether or not the shorter man would dare to try and lay a hand on any fiber of the finery he wears.
Astaroth also eliminates the third candidate!
Astaroth
it's a roulette kinda deal, black and red is what you get
