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
They both shift their intentions, steps twisting into a graceful violence, purposeful and lithe. The butcher, a touch more upfront and brash in comparison to the way Thalassa blends into shadows. Asta’s own approach more akin to getting up close and drawing the focus. It’s much the same here with the void river star that tumbles out their way, black tendrils glinting purple in the low light of the evening. The butcher’s smile is one sharp and eager as he adjusts the cane in his hand once the fireball flies out.
It hits the river star on one of its outstretched limbs, singeing with a scent that would make his stomach turn if he didn’t know well enough already to block out that portion of his senses. The tendril reaching for his feet hesitates with Thal’s throw, a growl escape it as it tries to launch itself at the butcher.
In this time, he’s pressed the button to the cane, the blade fracturing into bladed pieces as it pools against the dune grass, and with a practiced motion of his wrists, the butcher’s bladed whip launches out to aim the river star across its chest, chuckling deeply in delight.
It hits the river star on one of its outstretched limbs, singeing with a scent that would make his stomach turn if he didn’t know well enough already to block out that portion of his senses. The tendril reaching for his feet hesitates with Thal’s throw, a growl escape it as it tries to launch itself at the butcher.
In this time, he’s pressed the button to the cane, the blade fracturing into bladed pieces as it pools against the dune grass, and with a practiced motion of his wrists, the butcher’s bladed whip launches out to aim the river star across its chest, chuckling deeply in delight.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
