you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
It did explain her moving – but Asta doesn’t have anything else to say on that matter – at least for the time. Right now, focused as he is on the electricity that sparks in the air, charging each and every decision as they make their way out amongst the rain and storm, it’s a boon that reflects from Thalassa that despite her anger, despite her sharpness, she did not need to be aimless in it.
And lets be honest, the butcher would never turn down a hunt.
The air charges further as Astaroth pinpoints the allogator, making it into quite the show – as if Thalassa and he are dancers and the allogator is nothing more than an actor amongst their show. He spins when it strikes, and when it strikes Thalassa takes her move – plunging her blades beautifully into the soft side of the allogator as it growls and hisses its pain and anger. And for the butcher? It’s a beautiful game – because now as Thal strikes that blade into its tail, she’s done enough damage to really piss it off.
Which means it’s Astaroth’s turn for the dance. The allogator’s tail slashes, breaking it free from the blade that tried to pin it as hot dark blood spills across the ground, intermixing with rain to water it down, and it begins to whirl on her. Prepared for it as he is, though, Astaroth’s threaded cane comes down precisely on its maw as it snaps at her, with enough force to push it down and leave it twisted in an odd “S” shape. It’s one that doesn’t last long, either, because the butcher’s laugh of dark delight dances with Thalassa’s own as the thunder rumbles once again overhead and he plunges his dagger into the soft space at the neck of the beast, carving quite a deep slice as it thrashes.
He isn’t personally aiming for the kill, imagining that his friend could use it more, and so he’s quite content to toy and play until Thalassa’s satisfied. But he will piss it off enough to give her the chance to play more, even as the blood spills across his knuckles and arms, drenching them in a fresh ruby coat.
And lets be honest, the butcher would never turn down a hunt.
The air charges further as Astaroth pinpoints the allogator, making it into quite the show – as if Thalassa and he are dancers and the allogator is nothing more than an actor amongst their show. He spins when it strikes, and when it strikes Thalassa takes her move – plunging her blades beautifully into the soft side of the allogator as it growls and hisses its pain and anger. And for the butcher? It’s a beautiful game – because now as Thal strikes that blade into its tail, she’s done enough damage to really piss it off.
Which means it’s Astaroth’s turn for the dance. The allogator’s tail slashes, breaking it free from the blade that tried to pin it as hot dark blood spills across the ground, intermixing with rain to water it down, and it begins to whirl on her. Prepared for it as he is, though, Astaroth’s threaded cane comes down precisely on its maw as it snaps at her, with enough force to push it down and leave it twisted in an odd “S” shape. It’s one that doesn’t last long, either, because the butcher’s laugh of dark delight dances with Thalassa’s own as the thunder rumbles once again overhead and he plunges his dagger into the soft space at the neck of the beast, carving quite a deep slice as it thrashes.
He isn’t personally aiming for the kill, imagining that his friend could use it more, and so he’s quite content to toy and play until Thalassa’s satisfied. But he will piss it off enough to give her the chance to play more, even as the blood spills across his knuckles and arms, drenching them in a fresh ruby coat.
Astaroth
fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart
