i tried to start caring like you and like them
when you said that i was killing myself
when you said that i was killing myself
“Pshh, of course you did.” The butcher recalls with a roll of his eyes – that to anyone else who didn’t really know him would think meant he was truly upset. Ah, but Thalassa and him knew one another well enough by now she’d be able to see the glint of amusement and playful dramatics that crosses his face, even if he was a smidge upset at the reflection where he can see each and every piece of himself. And while it would be useful in battle, it would certainly become useful in his day to day, ensuring his clothes fit precisely how he wished it to.
Nodding, he agrees, letting his glamour drop finally and the pronged antlers spiral from his head, tossing his hair back into some semblance of place with minor fixing – as the smile he shoots toward her grows sharper, his canines growing longer as it drops. “Decoys are quite beneficial.” Especially when he was the type that preferred to get up close and personal in his fighting. It’s why he has the threaded cane, after all. Close yet ranged.
He focuses on her at the stifled yawn and the slouched posture, the butcher returns to the desk, resting his hip against the edge of it as her voice reaches him again. Surprise flickers across his face, only there by the lack of his usual masks in the comfort of liked company. “You are quite welcome, darling. Will there be a welcome home party?” He asks, seeking any reason to dress up that he could, even if he’d stick out like a sore thumb. Parties were always a blastwhen you knew about them.
Nodding, he agrees, letting his glamour drop finally and the pronged antlers spiral from his head, tossing his hair back into some semblance of place with minor fixing – as the smile he shoots toward her grows sharper, his canines growing longer as it drops. “Decoys are quite beneficial.” Especially when he was the type that preferred to get up close and personal in his fighting. It’s why he has the threaded cane, after all. Close yet ranged.
He focuses on her at the stifled yawn and the slouched posture, the butcher returns to the desk, resting his hip against the edge of it as her voice reaches him again. Surprise flickers across his face, only there by the lack of his usual masks in the comfort of liked company. “You are quite welcome, darling. Will there be a welcome home party?” He asks, seeking any reason to dress up that he could, even if he’d stick out like a sore thumb. Parties were always a blast
Astaroth
healed everything but my shame
