and you'll wake up all alone, on an old beat-down dirt country road
and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
She might be disgusted by the gaudiness of the attire within the shop windows, but Astaroth is nothing but intrigued. Sure, the colors were awful – especially if he considers the Captain’s preferred attire – but he was a sucker for the feel of certain kinds of fabrics, the sounds they made as they brush and rustle against one another. “Did you happen to fall in?” He teases in regards to Apopo, glancing toward her with a raise of his brow as he lets their conversation warm him further away from the cold memories of crows and feathers.
She doesn’t have to answer him, of course, but it’s too much of a lead in for him to resist.
Continuing through the crowd until they’ve reached the other side with a better variety of stores, the butcher’s brows pinch as he considers what to get for Danta. “Mm, well, he’s quite fond of clothing that is hardly what I would even classify as such.” He comments idly, thinking briefly about the strange fishnet sweater his lover has worn on occasion that had far too many holes in it to actually be useful or warm. He supposes it adds to the alluring factor, which might be something Thalassa might have an opinion on.
Glancing over at her sidelong before he holds the door open for her to a shop he’d never gone into – something about it screamed modern from the clothes displayed in the window. And perhaps with a touch from the Silk Houses and Mother Molly’s towards the back. “Perhaps we may be able to find something worthwhile here?” Though for once, the butcher seems lost amongst the aisles of clothes and fabrics.
She doesn’t have to answer him, of course, but it’s too much of a lead in for him to resist.
Continuing through the crowd until they’ve reached the other side with a better variety of stores, the butcher’s brows pinch as he considers what to get for Danta. “Mm, well, he’s quite fond of clothing that is hardly what I would even classify as such.” He comments idly, thinking briefly about the strange fishnet sweater his lover has worn on occasion that had far too many holes in it to actually be useful or warm. He supposes it adds to the alluring factor, which might be something Thalassa might have an opinion on.
Glancing over at her sidelong before he holds the door open for her to a shop he’d never gone into – something about it screamed modern from the clothes displayed in the window. And perhaps with a touch from the Silk Houses and Mother Molly’s towards the back. “Perhaps we may be able to find something worthwhile here?” Though for once, the butcher seems lost amongst the aisles of clothes and fabrics.
Astaroth
'cause there ain't no other place to go
