// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //
Flora’s arrival is heralded by an enthusiastic accompaniment of the tune the butcher hums, and while he lifts his gaze to take in the seemingly empty base of the dark obsidian that makes up the Spire. The smile on his face stretches easily, quieting to hear her sweet voice as it fills the space. “Luckily for you, darling, I was intending on changing.” He hums in response to the hug, his low chuckle warming the space.
He can hear her footsteps approach, and utilizing that to pinpoint her direction, the butcher tilts the wolf’s skull toward her with a softer smile. “Menacing and sentimental, as it turns out.” He touts, setting the skull into the bag amongst the rest of the bones, before delicately plucking the knives from the table to place them in the leather bound pack in each purposed spot, the blades gleaming as an indicator for their sharpness.
“Danta found a crow skull on one of our dates, so I figured I might sate some bloodlust and collect a wolf skull for my portion.” The crow and the wolf, reminiscent of the gore crow and the butcher’s own fyrhund.
Once all of the items are put away, the butcher’s pale shirt is loosened, pulled from his torso and utilized to wipe away the ash and the rest of the blood. And while the butcher’s skin appears quite normal in comparison to the last time Flora had seen it, a new pink scar sits on his ribs, carved and puckered at the edge of one of the bark-like scars that remain on his skin. “Now, I shall not ruin whatever lovely outfit you are wearing.” Teaching and expectant, the butcher sets the shirt down to open his arms for the much welcome hug.
He can hear her footsteps approach, and utilizing that to pinpoint her direction, the butcher tilts the wolf’s skull toward her with a softer smile. “Menacing and sentimental, as it turns out.” He touts, setting the skull into the bag amongst the rest of the bones, before delicately plucking the knives from the table to place them in the leather bound pack in each purposed spot, the blades gleaming as an indicator for their sharpness.
“Danta found a crow skull on one of our dates, so I figured I might sate some bloodlust and collect a wolf skull for my portion.” The crow and the wolf, reminiscent of the gore crow and the butcher’s own fyrhund.
Once all of the items are put away, the butcher’s pale shirt is loosened, pulled from his torso and utilized to wipe away the ash and the rest of the blood. And while the butcher’s skin appears quite normal in comparison to the last time Flora had seen it, a new pink scar sits on his ribs, carved and puckered at the edge of one of the bark-like scars that remain on his skin. “Now, I shall not ruin whatever lovely outfit you are wearing.” Teaching and expectant, the butcher sets the shirt down to open his arms for the much welcome hug.
Astaroth
// by the time i go, i'll tear you up in two //
