i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse
i am the shadow driving the hearse
His name into the air doesn’t exist right this second. In this nightmare, this memory, Astaroth doesn’t exist. He won’t exist for a time after. No, tonight it’s a lightly sedated Ferrox; A cannibal and nothing else, even if the fyrhund movements try to prove otherwise. He remains with that jagged breathing, one that grows more frantic the second his arm is touched.
It’s a beautiful thought, really, and it’s evident it matters somewhat with how the butcher doesn’t immediately whirl on him. He flinches instead, curling in tighter with a gasped inhale of breath. The words would be nice if he was at all in a position to understand them. It’s why his answer doesn’t make sense, not as he grips his leg tighter, the skin red beneath his fingers. “Stop.” This is at least somewhat closer to the butcher’s usual tone, usual confident voice, until it isn’t when there’s the quiet addition of “please.”
It’s a beautiful thought, really, and it’s evident it matters somewhat with how the butcher doesn’t immediately whirl on him. He flinches instead, curling in tighter with a gasped inhale of breath. The words would be nice if he was at all in a position to understand them. It’s why his answer doesn’t make sense, not as he grips his leg tighter, the skin red beneath his fingers. “Stop.” This is at least somewhat closer to the butcher’s usual tone, usual confident voice, until it isn’t when there’s the quiet addition of “please.”
Astaroth
what was it like to feel in love?
