// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //
It’s so strange - sitting there, flaring fire and anger and agony in all the pores that the butcher has on display. From his rack of horns wreathed in fire to the deer skull that makes up his face, he waits like a spider sensing its prey, waiting for the moment of fear to click in those blue eyes that he’ll register in his mind minutes from now.
A snarl escapes him once they lock eyes, but as the tiger steps away, dejected and upset, Astaroth’s flare of fighting suddenly shifts into confusion. The sharp jagged teeth of this shift grind as he twists, following the tiger in the molten tracks left behind, when it suddenly fucking clicks and his haunt drops like he’s been shocked out of it by a strike of lightning.
The butcher stands, brows pinched, all of his finery gone in the face of something looser and unfortunately littered with wrinkles. “Thalassa?” He calls out, his accent sharper than it usually is, grittier than the gentle fine tone he usually kept. And he waits, the uncertainty in if he’s calculated it right despite having all the signs to point to it.
A snarl escapes him once they lock eyes, but as the tiger steps away, dejected and upset, Astaroth’s flare of fighting suddenly shifts into confusion. The sharp jagged teeth of this shift grind as he twists, following the tiger in the molten tracks left behind, when it suddenly fucking clicks and his haunt drops like he’s been shocked out of it by a strike of lightning.
The butcher stands, brows pinched, all of his finery gone in the face of something looser and unfortunately littered with wrinkles. “Thalassa?” He calls out, his accent sharper than it usually is, grittier than the gentle fine tone he usually kept. And he waits, the uncertainty in if he’s calculated it right despite having all the signs to point to it.
Astaroth
// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //
