you see right through the lies in my eyes, and it's all underneath
if you take the time to scratch the surface,
if you take the time to scratch the surface,
Straight from Stormbreak to the Greatwood – in spite of knowing he’d likely fare better heading home. It wasn’t that much of a detour, and at the very least he could stop by that wonderful tea shop that Niki had shown him and perhaps wander enough to see if he could find a rose. Though, he isn’t bold enough to assume he could find one on the first try, it was at least worth a shot.
So, with the threaded cane in hand, the butcher drifts through the village – towering over everyone and mostly everything with his height, though he doesn’t seem to pay it any attention. A bag is clasped in his free hand, one laden with treats and tea to take home when he hears the a woman speaking by a nearby bench – to her companions, if he had to guess.
Unable to help himself, the butcher drifts toward her with an easy yet still sharp smile of greeting, dipping his horned head should she look over toward him. “Might I suggest a limerick?” He hums in greeting. “Assuming you are trying to write something for the most violet of Caido’s inhabitants, that is.” His head tilts slightly, dark hair falling onto the edge of a black horn.
“There once was a Family purple in nature, who harbored quite a unique wager. To arrive and be embraced, only to be met with distaste, and find that their new friends harbored a series of razors.” He suggests, before he lets the low chuckle escape him. “Apologies, that was not my best.”
So, with the threaded cane in hand, the butcher drifts through the village – towering over everyone and mostly everything with his height, though he doesn’t seem to pay it any attention. A bag is clasped in his free hand, one laden with treats and tea to take home when he hears the a woman speaking by a nearby bench – to her companions, if he had to guess.
Unable to help himself, the butcher drifts toward her with an easy yet still sharp smile of greeting, dipping his horned head should she look over toward him. “Might I suggest a limerick?” He hums in greeting. “Assuming you are trying to write something for the most violet of Caido’s inhabitants, that is.” His head tilts slightly, dark hair falling onto the edge of a black horn.
“There once was a Family purple in nature, who harbored quite a unique wager. To arrive and be embraced, only to be met with distaste, and find that their new friends harbored a series of razors.” He suggests, before he lets the low chuckle escape him. “Apologies, that was not my best.”
Astaroth
i'll show you where the hurt is
