Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
Truth be told, Asta does expect it to be a surprise, but he doesn’t expect to see the flush of warmth in brilliant hues of pink dust Charlie’s cheeks, flitting his gaze toward the Maverick to see the very faint hue dashed into his complexion too. “Oh, I bet we certainly could.” He says instead, letting their surprise and flushes completely unfaze him. (He is amused endlessly, though, let it be known).
Fingertips set the crates ablaze, his joke hitting the mark, and its with a fiery yet affectionate smile toward Danta that the butcher nods his head. “Of course not, darling.” Only the best, as it were. So he burns the crates and watches as Danta sweeps away the ash left behind, and when each and every piece of wood is gone, the butcher’s arms twine behind him comfortably as he awaits the next task.
Luckily for him, it’s perhaps the best task of the day, drifting closer to snag one of the glasses, the butcher holds his out for a healthy dose of liquor, before straightening back up – tail curling contently at the end of its spaded tip that does drift back and forth like a slow wag. “To Charlie, for always being willing, able, and ready to continue to make space to worship Dygra in her Temple. And for always adding a flair of style. And to Danta, who has spoken with our goddess to make all these wonderful thoughts a reality and put in hard work to get it done.” He says nothing about himself, though, finding it a touch too over the top, even for himself.
Asta makes his little toastie toast
Fingertips set the crates ablaze, his joke hitting the mark, and its with a fiery yet affectionate smile toward Danta that the butcher nods his head. “Of course not, darling.” Only the best, as it were. So he burns the crates and watches as Danta sweeps away the ash left behind, and when each and every piece of wood is gone, the butcher’s arms twine behind him comfortably as he awaits the next task.
Luckily for him, it’s perhaps the best task of the day, drifting closer to snag one of the glasses, the butcher holds his out for a healthy dose of liquor, before straightening back up – tail curling contently at the end of its spaded tip that does drift back and forth like a slow wag. “To Charlie, for always being willing, able, and ready to continue to make space to worship Dygra in her Temple. And for always adding a flair of style. And to Danta, who has spoken with our goddess to make all these wonderful thoughts a reality and put in hard work to get it done.” He says nothing about himself, though, finding it a touch too over the top, even for himself.
Asta makes his little toastie toast
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
