now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence
won't accept your silence
It sounds like a plan, if he’s being honest. Because right now he has zero idea what one looks like to critique (even internally). He wordlessly continues to mine and collect, returning to Danta to inspect the rOUS with a huff of a laugh. “I don’t?” He asks, snorting before he pockets the rOUS — content to leave the rest of them there as Danta intends.
Humming thoughtfully as his gaze drifts from the walls to seek out the veins, he glances over at Danta with a raise of his brow. “I was under the assumption that copper and tin may be combined to make bronze.” But honestly? He has no idea. “Alas, I am not a blacksmith so— Hey,” the interruption of the fondle from the Maverick is met with a bark of laughter, keeping the hoisted pickaxe on his shoulder even as his tail winds its way to playfully smack Danta’s leg as he walks past.
“Anyway,” huffing in playful annoyance, the butcher continues. “Eyes peeled, darling. And not on me.” He teases, drifting further down the volcanic cavern, when something sparkles down the way that catches his eye.
Humming thoughtfully as his gaze drifts from the walls to seek out the veins, he glances over at Danta with a raise of his brow. “I was under the assumption that copper and tin may be combined to make bronze.” But honestly? He has no idea. “Alas, I am not a blacksmith so— Hey,” the interruption of the fondle from the Maverick is met with a bark of laughter, keeping the hoisted pickaxe on his shoulder even as his tail winds its way to playfully smack Danta’s leg as he walks past.
“Anyway,” huffing in playful annoyance, the butcher continues. “Eyes peeled, darling. And not on me.” He teases, drifting further down the volcanic cavern, when something sparkles down the way that catches his eye.
Astaroth
beg me for forgiveness
