run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
It’s a wink and a lingering look that does absolutely nothing to soothe the butcher’s distaste. Especially as he’s ignored, straightening up with a lashing tail and a too sharp grin that spells trouble to let Sunjata and Danta depart. He doesn’t calm, either, not for a second that they’re out of his sight, not unlike a cat puffed up at the first sense of something being amiss.
So, he tries to busy himself. Tries to follow through with the request from his lover – the one that has him keeping the place warm – something the butcher takes, perhaps, a touch too literally. The threaded cane is swapped hands, leaning against the multihued cane as fire flares through his perfectly in place hair, swirling along his fingertips that rest atop the other hand holding the cane.
And he tries, desperately, to pretend as if he’s simply watching the rest of the Dusklight when his thoughts are anywhere but.
And maybe, just maybe, that lingering scent in the air once Sunjata had passed him had been a touch too good that has his alarm bells ringing as well. A scent of heady, fresh and warm blood, intermixed with sage and citrus, a strange and odd mixture with the fact that there wasn’t any blood he could otherwise see – and as such, left at a loss. Except for the fact that the stranger smells all too much like all his favorites.
So, he tries to busy himself. Tries to follow through with the request from his lover – the one that has him keeping the place warm – something the butcher takes, perhaps, a touch too literally. The threaded cane is swapped hands, leaning against the multihued cane as fire flares through his perfectly in place hair, swirling along his fingertips that rest atop the other hand holding the cane.
And he tries, desperately, to pretend as if he’s simply watching the rest of the Dusklight when his thoughts are anywhere but.
And maybe, just maybe, that lingering scent in the air once Sunjata had passed him had been a touch too good that has his alarm bells ringing as well. A scent of heady, fresh and warm blood, intermixed with sage and citrus, a strange and odd mixture with the fact that there wasn’t any blood he could otherwise see – and as such, left at a loss. Except for the fact that the stranger smells all too much like all his favorites.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
