Astaroth
i think i'm the devil in disguise, here's my state of mind
He’s also positive he isn’t boring, but he supposed Danta needs to get the ribbing in when he can. So at her offer, the butcher is already filing it into things to do before he leaves again, if only to keep the Maverick from complaining further about histories and aqueducts. And he hums a deep, dark laugh to hear her request to lie to her should he not like it, as if he’d do anything else. “Of course, darling, I will be eternally grateful to borrow them.” And they had to be good, if Isla claimed them to be her favorites, right?
But he insists that he intends on taking time for himself to the fullest, to relax as much as he can while also ensuring that she does the same. Nodding to hear that she prefers to take smaller ones more often rather than larger ones, Astaroth understands.
But then he’s talking about all of the shit he’s dealt with lately and it isn’t even including all of the Maea things — nor even the question of whether or not there were ways to make sedatives actually not taste like garbage, when his dark eyes watch the shock overcome her face. The sunglasses tilt down and he gets full view of her pebble gaze and all he can do is flash her that too sharp smile as he regards her with the honey dark ones of his own. But her laugh breaks through it, accompanied by his own again, twisting toward her to loop his arm around the top of the board they’re both leaning against. “Quite fine. I am here in one piece, am I not?” He asks with a playful smirk twisting his lips. “Though I will say I have required the occasional sedative to sleep. I am curious, is there any way to make them taste better than they do?” Purely for dramatics and to try and lighten the mood despite the seriousness in his question, the butcher lets a shiver race down his spine, quite visible, tail flicking out the rest of it like it could get rid of it solely if it tried hard enough.
But he insists that he intends on taking time for himself to the fullest, to relax as much as he can while also ensuring that she does the same. Nodding to hear that she prefers to take smaller ones more often rather than larger ones, Astaroth understands.
But then he’s talking about all of the shit he’s dealt with lately and it isn’t even including all of the Maea things — nor even the question of whether or not there were ways to make sedatives actually not taste like garbage, when his dark eyes watch the shock overcome her face. The sunglasses tilt down and he gets full view of her pebble gaze and all he can do is flash her that too sharp smile as he regards her with the honey dark ones of his own. But her laugh breaks through it, accompanied by his own again, twisting toward her to loop his arm around the top of the board they’re both leaning against. “Quite fine. I am here in one piece, am I not?” He asks with a playful smirk twisting his lips. “Though I will say I have required the occasional sedative to sleep. I am curious, is there any way to make them taste better than they do?” Purely for dramatics and to try and lighten the mood despite the seriousness in his question, the butcher lets a shiver race down his spine, quite visible, tail flicking out the rest of it like it could get rid of it solely if it tried hard enough.
give me destruction, tell me i'm scrumptious
i'm a fucking delight
i'm a fucking delight
