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
These days, the butcher has a multitude of ways to burn off steam rather than holing himself away until he was capable of being around people again. An old means to making sure he didn’t drift too far into his typical tendencies. Even though he has a better means to getting it out of his system, some things still lingered. The craving for violence, for blood, and at the present moment? They collide in the memory of Maea’s audacity and the fight with the Villi and the biting cold pain he can still feel across his chest.
“Violence.” The butcher confirms, his smile flashing a touch too sharp and eager toward Thal. It wasn’t bloodlust sating. It was carnage and destruction.
As if on cue, the rustle in the dune grass as it shifts toward the sand of the boondocks captures the butcher’s attention - head whipping enough to notice nearly immediately as something purple and black begins to gun for them, bolting through like a terrible tumbleweed made of void tendrils, outstretched on the hunt. Hissing a sound of displeasure, the butcher’s hand outstretches, a fireball scorching the grass as he aims for the beast’s center. “Must be our lucky day.”
“Violence.” The butcher confirms, his smile flashing a touch too sharp and eager toward Thal. It wasn’t bloodlust sating. It was carnage and destruction.
As if on cue, the rustle in the dune grass as it shifts toward the sand of the boondocks captures the butcher’s attention - head whipping enough to notice nearly immediately as something purple and black begins to gun for them, bolting through like a terrible tumbleweed made of void tendrils, outstretched on the hunt. Hissing a sound of displeasure, the butcher’s hand outstretches, a fireball scorching the grass as he aims for the beast’s center. “Must be our lucky day.”
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
