count your blessings early

Astaroth

i think i'm the devil in disguise, here's my state of mind

Returning the feather to the little space it had sat in for the machine that Charlie had crafted, the butcher cradles the tea cup with both hands as she turns toward him and his dark gaze surveys her, that beaming smile still lingering on his face as she responds. “I have always been able to tell up to a certain point, but I find lately—” In this time and age, “things seem to taste so much more varied than they had once been.” It’s why he preferred not to eat Ancients when able to choose – not only for the obvious point that they were one of them, but they also had a taste of rock and earthiness about them that Astaroth was not a fan of in the slightest.

Attuned’s with bird shifts, though…

Remaining in Charlie’s space as she leans up to inhale the scent of the tea both in his cup and radiating from him, the butcher’s satisfied twitch of his lips betrays him when he tilts his head slightly. He smells of the iron of blood and smoke, the spiced cherry of the tea, and an underlying tone of something else that’s equally just as mysterious as it is alluring. “I have tried desperately to perfect mine.” He teases her with a wink, before drawing up back to his full height, looking back over at the machine. “And what do you prefer for your own palette, darling? Given all the new things to try.” The butcher asks, flashing her yet another too sharp and bright smile.

give me destruction, tell me i'm scrumptious
i'm a fucking delight