now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence
won't accept your silence
He is a benevolent overseer some days. Today is a questionable one, though, that seems to begin on the right foot as the Maverick takes the pickaxe and Astaroth hoists the heavy bag, his willowy body sagging to the side slightly with the weight of it. It’s fine, though, it isn’t that different than trying to handle a body most days, and with the inherent experience of that, the butcher is confident he can make it this far.
Either way, the Maverick comes back to himself, all while Astaroth was confident he was being ogled (not that he would complain in the slightest with it being Danta’s bright blues watching his every move), he offers him a bright, too sharp smile and a nod of his head – before he’s jostled of course and the scoff is nearly as loud as the curse that slips past his lips as he becomes unbalanced just as Danta had hoped for. “Ah, darling, I thought you were intending to be helpful.” Comes the drawled whine, readjusting the heavy bag on his shoulder as if it had become dislodged during his balancing act (it had almost to the point of him completely falling over, but he doesn’t want to talk about it).
“It is everything I needed for the quest – though I have heard rumors of visitors to Frey’s Breath in search of a lily. Perhaps that might be something we could do soon?” Not that it took much time to get there from here – but given the pickaxe, the heavy bag of ore, and the sooty mess they’ve become, it seems like it may not be the vibe for the rest of this trip.
Either way, the butcher draws up beside Danta again, keeping his distance with a rueful look, just in case.
Either way, the Maverick comes back to himself, all while Astaroth was confident he was being ogled (not that he would complain in the slightest with it being Danta’s bright blues watching his every move), he offers him a bright, too sharp smile and a nod of his head – before he’s jostled of course and the scoff is nearly as loud as the curse that slips past his lips as he becomes unbalanced just as Danta had hoped for. “Ah, darling, I thought you were intending to be helpful.” Comes the drawled whine, readjusting the heavy bag on his shoulder as if it had become dislodged during his balancing act (it had almost to the point of him completely falling over, but he doesn’t want to talk about it).
“It is everything I needed for the quest – though I have heard rumors of visitors to Frey’s Breath in search of a lily. Perhaps that might be something we could do soon?” Not that it took much time to get there from here – but given the pickaxe, the heavy bag of ore, and the sooty mess they’ve become, it seems like it may not be the vibe for the rest of this trip.
Either way, the butcher draws up beside Danta again, keeping his distance with a rueful look, just in case.
Astaroth
beg me for forgiveness
