They say I'm a dangerous man, better run fast as you can
Humming a considering sound, the butcher’s head inclines toward her with that same sharp grin. “I have never once doubted how deadly you are, darling.” And it’s the pure honesty that drips from his lips that he offers it out to her, wrapped in sweet honey stickiness that he continues. “Perhaps you should give them a reason to be?” After all, it wasn’t like he was feared his entire life. It wasn’t until he acquired the moniker and the portions of his Ancient magic and shifts that had granted him the fear and stories written about him.
She continues, though, and the butcher hears her out with a contemplative sort of gleam, one that meshes well with the mischief blossoming under his skin. “In that case, yes, I believe you very well could be. A different kind of fear than the kind you already harbor by simply being Torchline’s Queen.” He muses a touch playfully, nudging her as he spots her beautiful shadowy grin, mirroring it with a sharp one of his own.
As for letting go more than they had today, the butcher chuckles deeper, arm squeezing hers gently. At least, he’d heard of her death thanks to Vox’s broadcast, but the mention of claws going through her has him perking up immediately, the extra boon of possessiveness that blossoms from this time of the season from his Feirw shift not particularly helping the matter much. So it’s with a quick, calculating glance over her to ensure that she is truly alright that the butcher nods and his smile brightens, even if it twists closer to a smirk, his voice dropping a touch deeper. “If you are seeking to test your limits, darling, you need no longer look for willing participants.” It ends in a trill, as if he’s more than happy to push her to those limits so long as she’s invested in finding out. He imagines Danta wouldn’t mind helping out either.
But for now, it’s just the two of them, and his low laugh is saccharinely sweet to hear her groan and crumple. “Flooorrrrrra,” his accent rolls the r of her name in a beautiful musical shift as he holds her closer, leaning in to nuzzle her. “Remind me to craft you the most opulent seat to ride around on my shoulders for how terribly I have harmed you.” The easy banter rolls from his silver tongue, content to press against her if it weren’t for the promise of a drink and unfortunately not biting anyone in the process.
“It does work, unfortunately.” The butcher sighs dramatically, his leg swinging out for the next step they take as he scoffs and rolls his eyes a little. “We have had much time to test what works best for the straps and to make it as comfortable as possible to sleep in.” Glancing back over and down toward her, his smile is still sharp but a fraction softer. “Danta has even had one made for my security uniform.” He bounces his brows, tail waving behind him as it brushes against her leg again.
She continues, though, and the butcher hears her out with a contemplative sort of gleam, one that meshes well with the mischief blossoming under his skin. “In that case, yes, I believe you very well could be. A different kind of fear than the kind you already harbor by simply being Torchline’s Queen.” He muses a touch playfully, nudging her as he spots her beautiful shadowy grin, mirroring it with a sharp one of his own.
As for letting go more than they had today, the butcher chuckles deeper, arm squeezing hers gently. At least, he’d heard of her death thanks to Vox’s broadcast, but the mention of claws going through her has him perking up immediately, the extra boon of possessiveness that blossoms from this time of the season from his Feirw shift not particularly helping the matter much. So it’s with a quick, calculating glance over her to ensure that she is truly alright that the butcher nods and his smile brightens, even if it twists closer to a smirk, his voice dropping a touch deeper. “If you are seeking to test your limits, darling, you need no longer look for willing participants.” It ends in a trill, as if he’s more than happy to push her to those limits so long as she’s invested in finding out. He imagines Danta wouldn’t mind helping out either.
But for now, it’s just the two of them, and his low laugh is saccharinely sweet to hear her groan and crumple. “Flooorrrrrra,” his accent rolls the r of her name in a beautiful musical shift as he holds her closer, leaning in to nuzzle her. “Remind me to craft you the most opulent seat to ride around on my shoulders for how terribly I have harmed you.” The easy banter rolls from his silver tongue, content to press against her if it weren’t for the promise of a drink and unfortunately not biting anyone in the process.
“It does work, unfortunately.” The butcher sighs dramatically, his leg swinging out for the next step they take as he scoffs and rolls his eyes a little. “We have had much time to test what works best for the straps and to make it as comfortable as possible to sleep in.” Glancing back over and down toward her, his smile is still sharp but a fraction softer. “Danta has even had one made for my security uniform.” He bounces his brows, tail waving behind him as it brushes against her leg again.
Astaroth
Don't you look back, every bone in my body's bad
