now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence
won't accept your silence
“You might, darling.” Comes Astaroth’s playful hum – because the last time he’d seen that particular Ancient, Flora and he had been on that disastrous date. And perhaps there’s a part of him that think it might be fun to sell the idea further, though that would mean she cared enough to look and watch in the first place. So, with a small huff of a smile to settle the momentarily destructive thoughts, the butcher’s attention is back to moving with Flora across the dance floor like the perfect gentleman he is.
Rather than the one with blood dripping hands.
“His birthday is in Flowerbirth.. But I imagine he would enjoy a surprise party immensely.” He hums with a soft laugh and that traditional grin, though it is edged a touch too sharp. “But I am all ears if you have opinions or ideas, as always.” Bowing his horned head a smidge toward her but careful the tines that sprout from the front of his horns don’t go near harming her.
Rather than the one with blood dripping hands.
“His birthday is in Flowerbirth.. But I imagine he would enjoy a surprise party immensely.” He hums with a soft laugh and that traditional grin, though it is edged a touch too sharp. “But I am all ears if you have opinions or ideas, as always.” Bowing his horned head a smidge toward her but careful the tines that sprout from the front of his horns don’t go near harming her.
Astaroth
beg me for forgiveness
