i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...
in the wake of disaster ...
They absolutely do look like they’ve walked out of the window of a store front – but Astaroth isn’t going to complain one bit. Flora looks lovely as always, warm and comfortable, and in an attempt to appear just as bundled up (because gods, being so high up in the sky during Leafchange was certainly not his idea of a great time), the butcher’s opted for dark slacks, pinstriped to match the vest over a warm dress shirt made with fine cotton fibers, soft to the touch. It’s a deep wine red that matches the interior lining of the double breasted top coat he wears, the back split to allow for room for his tail as well as movement. And for the added bonus, a scarf woven with white, tan, and grey is wound around the butcher’s neck.
Which only serves to add the only change in his appearance – being the silver hoop in one ear and a ruby stud in the other. “Quite well, darling.” His accented voice hums, cane clicking against the ground as he accompanies the Queen of Torchline in a manner not unlike how he often accompanied Danta. A threat to any who might look at her with a less than friendly look.
Keeping his arm intertwined with hers as they follow the path of the Celestine, a place Astaroth had seen in his brief venture to Stormbreak but had never gone within, he sweeps his gaze from the path ahead toward the queen on his arm, sharp teeth in that same characteristically sharp smile. “We now share a room.” He raises a brow playfully – as if it was a huge step (which, for the two Ancients, it actually kind of was). “How are things with you? I have heard tales that you have been a very busy woman.”
Which only serves to add the only change in his appearance – being the silver hoop in one ear and a ruby stud in the other. “Quite well, darling.” His accented voice hums, cane clicking against the ground as he accompanies the Queen of Torchline in a manner not unlike how he often accompanied Danta. A threat to any who might look at her with a less than friendly look.
Keeping his arm intertwined with hers as they follow the path of the Celestine, a place Astaroth had seen in his brief venture to Stormbreak but had never gone within, he sweeps his gaze from the path ahead toward the queen on his arm, sharp teeth in that same characteristically sharp smile. “We now share a room.” He raises a brow playfully – as if it was a huge step (which, for the two Ancients, it actually kind of was). “How are things with you? I have heard tales that you have been a very busy woman.”
Astaroth
will you sink down to me?
