They say I'm a dangerous man, better run fast as you can
They stay connected in this bloody tango they’ve both participated in - even if the blood that soaks his clothes no longer has a source to come from. It leaves a stark coolness with each gentle breeze that blurs through the trees and passes by Flora, flitting his senses with all the scents of her along the faint hint of roasted pumpkin. He doesn’t move, just stays precisely where he is, pressed against her hand like she’s the only thing that’s steady as he takes in the sensation that he isn’t in pain as he had been before.
Her smile is slower, bright, even if they’ve dirtied each other up in the process of this spar. And the butcher listens, eyes slipping shut for a few moments longer before his low chuckle joins her own. “As did I.” It wasn’t often that he also got to fully let loose. At least, not without feeling as horrible for nailing her with a punch actually aimed to harm. Perhaps he should take advantage of the Rage Room more often if this is the kind of ethereal sensation it can bring.
Or maybe it’s just the season.
His dark gaze opens again, focusing on her and spotting her mischief as his tail flicks comfortably behind him. “I am honored to be your pin cushion, Flora, darling.” He hums, exhaustion lingering in his bones in a way that’s only so menially satisfied this season. His hand lifts, covering her own in a gentle and hot touch, leaning in just as much as she has before his other hand lifts to slip around the small of her back and tug her in for a hug, smooshing her hand against his chest so that he doesn’t ruin her clothing with the sticky blood still on the front of his chest. “I did hit you quite hard, admittedly. Are you in need of healing as well?” He asks, withdrawing slightly to look her over, unsure if her ring could completely heal everything or if it had a certain amount of charges she could use.
Her smile is slower, bright, even if they’ve dirtied each other up in the process of this spar. And the butcher listens, eyes slipping shut for a few moments longer before his low chuckle joins her own. “As did I.” It wasn’t often that he also got to fully let loose. At least, not without feeling as horrible for nailing her with a punch actually aimed to harm. Perhaps he should take advantage of the Rage Room more often if this is the kind of ethereal sensation it can bring.
Or maybe it’s just the season.
His dark gaze opens again, focusing on her and spotting her mischief as his tail flicks comfortably behind him. “I am honored to be your pin cushion, Flora, darling.” He hums, exhaustion lingering in his bones in a way that’s only so menially satisfied this season. His hand lifts, covering her own in a gentle and hot touch, leaning in just as much as she has before his other hand lifts to slip around the small of her back and tug her in for a hug, smooshing her hand against his chest so that he doesn’t ruin her clothing with the sticky blood still on the front of his chest. “I did hit you quite hard, admittedly. Are you in need of healing as well?” He asks, withdrawing slightly to look her over, unsure if her ring could completely heal everything or if it had a certain amount of charges she could use.
Astaroth
Don't you look back, every bone in my body's bad
