// day breaks sorrow //
As if belatedly, perhaps when Vesper admits he has some shifts, does the butcher remember his own thrumming in his blood. The fyrhund, lial, and feirw settling against his bones in sharp contrast to the idea of a horse. But he’d come here looking to utilize his magic and not his shifts, to perhaps burn and drag the corrupted unicorns to their graves with nothing more than bloody, fiery means.
Still, the butcher is patient even as he twists the bladed cane in his hands, nodding to hear the instruction as they’re offered – spreading out to search for them. “Perfect.” Comes the quiet thrum of his drawling accent, taking a moment to take in the scent of the air around him, which way it was blowing in order to not go and give their positioning away – traits from his old scouting days in Halo – before he’s picking a direction to head down, tail flicking at his heels as he keeps his eyes peeled for tracks.
Asta picks a direction not in the wind and starts his search!
Still, the butcher is patient even as he twists the bladed cane in his hands, nodding to hear the instruction as they’re offered – spreading out to search for them. “Perfect.” Comes the quiet thrum of his drawling accent, taking a moment to take in the scent of the air around him, which way it was blowing in order to not go and give their positioning away – traits from his old scouting days in Halo – before he’s picking a direction to head down, tail flicking at his heels as he keeps his eyes peeled for tracks.
Asta picks a direction not in the wind and starts his search!
Astaroth
// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //
