we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within
let your desire be simply acquired within, within
He had to have an outfit for every possibility, obviously. Just in case, so that he might be able to ensure he never went without. And sometimes, the butcher was a bit of a hoarder - content to see a fabric he liked and have something crafted from it just because. “I will do you well, darling.” Asta purrs playfully as he departs from the room, letting it snick shut quietly behind him.
While she’s in the midst of her shower, the butcher has curated quite a few decent options of clothing for Thal. Keeping her usual attire in mind, a beautiful black blouse with a plunging V (obviously, it’s a brothel after all), paired with black pants that he’s sure will fit her nicely, all clean and pressed and ready to be worn. Along with it, he has included something with color, however, a different shirt to the usual blouses he’d seen her wear. This one is a navy blue with billowy sleeves but an otherwise snug fit, imagining it would do nicely if she did want a pop of color.
Arriving, he knocks at the door before he enters, stepping in shortly after to find her hovering by the table in the distance, one of his shirts quite large and adorning her figure much like a dress in comparison. And before he has a chance to show her the clothes, her question paints the air between them. “I make chimes.” Asta hums, drifting in toward the table to lay the pants and shirt options out. “A habit from Whitebrim, but one that is quite lovely to hear when the wind breezes through.” The dull clink of bones hung among the mezzanine when their window was open.
“These in particular are finger bones.” The long, delicate kind, unashamed and quite pleased and proud of the options they’ll make. It’ll pair with the luxere antlers nicely, he thinks. “As for these, perhaps they may suit you well?” His hand lowers to hover over the clothes he’d picked out, turning his dark gaze back toward her with a sharp toothed smile.
While she’s in the midst of her shower, the butcher has curated quite a few decent options of clothing for Thal. Keeping her usual attire in mind, a beautiful black blouse with a plunging V (obviously, it’s a brothel after all), paired with black pants that he’s sure will fit her nicely, all clean and pressed and ready to be worn. Along with it, he has included something with color, however, a different shirt to the usual blouses he’d seen her wear. This one is a navy blue with billowy sleeves but an otherwise snug fit, imagining it would do nicely if she did want a pop of color.
Arriving, he knocks at the door before he enters, stepping in shortly after to find her hovering by the table in the distance, one of his shirts quite large and adorning her figure much like a dress in comparison. And before he has a chance to show her the clothes, her question paints the air between them. “I make chimes.” Asta hums, drifting in toward the table to lay the pants and shirt options out. “A habit from Whitebrim, but one that is quite lovely to hear when the wind breezes through.” The dull clink of bones hung among the mezzanine when their window was open.
“These in particular are finger bones.” The long, delicate kind, unashamed and quite pleased and proud of the options they’ll make. It’ll pair with the luxere antlers nicely, he thinks. “As for these, perhaps they may suit you well?” His hand lowers to hover over the clothes he’d picked out, turning his dark gaze back toward her with a sharp toothed smile.
Astaroth
if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap
