They say I'm a dangerous man, better run fast as you can
“Yes.” Asta says with zero hesitation, his grin widening a touch as he considers what kind of person Flora might become if she didn’t give someone a chance to think about things before doing them. “Perhaps you and I should go on a hunt and you can test it out.” It comes out surprisingly easily, not dancing around the fact that he does choose cannibalism as a rare and far between treat. “I would happily devour anyone who harmed you.” And while to anyone around it might seem poetic, the butcher quite literally means it.
At her laugh, though, he nods his head in understanding - reigning in the version of himself that harbors the bloodlust — and wondering momentarily how long it’s been since he’d indulged himself. Not long, but perhaps the aggression and his huge increase in becoming territorial might have something to say about it that he doesn’t quite understand. “Ah, my Doubletake, it can absolutely be an advantage as well. Word does travel fast and to which it grows a bit old as well if you are only feared.” He sighs dramatically, as if having experienced it when he was underestimated as a gentleman, only to be called the Butcher of Whitebrim not that long after. It had been a swap, but one that had been admittedly refreshing when he’d gotten here without all of his powers and strength. Where he was underestimated by those that didn’t know any better.
And they’d poked the wolf, and the wolf bit back.
Her grin is met with one of his own, his fingers wiggling against her arm as he adds his little flare of gesture. “It is the rage room, so I cannot do too much damage if it is. And besides, it is about testing our limits, is it not?” Bouncing a brow toward her as she delves into her favorite seats, the low rumble of a laugh becomes warmer, playfully husky when he responds. “You know, much to mine and Danta’s surprise, I have not required blood at all yet this season.” he isn’t sure if it will go away when the season changes, but for now it’s been quite a pleasant surprise.
As for the muzzle, he inclines his head this way and that, a piece of dark hair falling from where it’s tucked neatly behind his horns back into his face as he muses over it. “Oh, it does indeed. It nearly seems as if I am on display, as if the muzzle does not bar people from dreaming.” He laughs softly, looking down toward her with an affectionate glint to his gaze, made warm by their banter.
At her laugh, though, he nods his head in understanding - reigning in the version of himself that harbors the bloodlust — and wondering momentarily how long it’s been since he’d indulged himself. Not long, but perhaps the aggression and his huge increase in becoming territorial might have something to say about it that he doesn’t quite understand. “Ah, my Doubletake, it can absolutely be an advantage as well. Word does travel fast and to which it grows a bit old as well if you are only feared.” He sighs dramatically, as if having experienced it when he was underestimated as a gentleman, only to be called the Butcher of Whitebrim not that long after. It had been a swap, but one that had been admittedly refreshing when he’d gotten here without all of his powers and strength. Where he was underestimated by those that didn’t know any better.
And they’d poked the wolf, and the wolf bit back.
Her grin is met with one of his own, his fingers wiggling against her arm as he adds his little flare of gesture. “It is the rage room, so I cannot do too much damage if it is. And besides, it is about testing our limits, is it not?” Bouncing a brow toward her as she delves into her favorite seats, the low rumble of a laugh becomes warmer, playfully husky when he responds. “You know, much to mine and Danta’s surprise, I have not required blood at all yet this season.” he isn’t sure if it will go away when the season changes, but for now it’s been quite a pleasant surprise.
As for the muzzle, he inclines his head this way and that, a piece of dark hair falling from where it’s tucked neatly behind his horns back into his face as he muses over it. “Oh, it does indeed. It nearly seems as if I am on display, as if the muzzle does not bar people from dreaming.” He laughs softly, looking down toward her with an affectionate glint to his gaze, made warm by their banter.
Astaroth
Don't you look back, every bone in my body's bad
