run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
Chuckling to her perception, his agreement is evident in the sigh and the roll of his eyes. But to hear that the damage hadn’t been purely contained to their bodies and emotions and that the Marauder was also hit, a flare of anger zings through the butcher’s flicking tail as he glances over at her to see and feel her own rage from it. His nose wrinkles in distaste, trajectory shifting while he walks to brush his elbow against her in a soft little nudge. “Will you make her fix the damage?” He asks curiously, despite not blaming her if she didn’t want to see Maea again because of it.
But satisfaction curls in the ocean of her eyes and he picks up on it quickly with the dark honey of his own. “Good.” Comes the easy praise, his own satisfied smirk blooming on his face. “Not enough, I am sure, however she will certainly have time to lick her wounds.” He sighs as if the cycle will continue — lick her wounds, apologize, harm more, lick her wounds, apologize, harm more. “Do you think she will reach out again?”
But satisfaction curls in the ocean of her eyes and he picks up on it quickly with the dark honey of his own. “Good.” Comes the easy praise, his own satisfied smirk blooming on his face. “Not enough, I am sure, however she will certainly have time to lick her wounds.” He sighs as if the cycle will continue — lick her wounds, apologize, harm more, lick her wounds, apologize, harm more. “Do you think she will reach out again?”
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
