// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //
Perhaps he does say exactly what she needs to hear — but it isn’t because of her. He isn’t formulating these thoughts and ideas because he thinks that it will help her. He says them because they’re just as true to him as they are for her. It just has the brilliant way of being exactly what they’re both thinking. So it supports her just as he uses it as a mask, a guise to distract from what he’s really trying to do. And for a moment, he thinks that it could work.
The shadows swell, a mask for faux frustration and anger and an urgency to try and hide the rose in his hand. He reaches for her and misses as she becomes startled, like a wounded animal that he’s struggling to try and gain the trust of. And for a moment, he thinks he’s ruined it. He thinks there’ll be a fight on his hands, which only serves to help prove his feigned urgency some more.
And luckily, he has this season he can blame for it. He can have Maea turning into a dragon and ruining the party for Thalassa in turn to blame for it. He can pretend — and gods knew Astaroth was nothing if not a perfect pretender.
So her hand lowers, and he pushes the point again, stepping toward her. “I know, darling, I would too. However it seems that she is not unlike a cockroach and she will stay regardless if you wish her to or not.” His voice strains a touch, an urgency in it that he hopes will try to get her to focus on that and not the rest of what he’s doing.
He reaches for her hand again, this time a softer approach that he’ll aim to squeeze her palm, his eyes focused on her face as his brows pinch. “She always has an unfortunate way of popping back up. And I am so tired of her ruining everything.” The hand wreathed in shadow, a black blot that’s as if he’s aiming to cover her hand with his other one, and if he manages to get it just right, the thorn will sink into the back of her hand.
Asta tries to heal Thal again (PLS LEMME BE LUCKY THIS TIME)
The shadows swell, a mask for faux frustration and anger and an urgency to try and hide the rose in his hand. He reaches for her and misses as she becomes startled, like a wounded animal that he’s struggling to try and gain the trust of. And for a moment, he thinks he’s ruined it. He thinks there’ll be a fight on his hands, which only serves to help prove his feigned urgency some more.
And luckily, he has this season he can blame for it. He can have Maea turning into a dragon and ruining the party for Thalassa in turn to blame for it. He can pretend — and gods knew Astaroth was nothing if not a perfect pretender.
So her hand lowers, and he pushes the point again, stepping toward her. “I know, darling, I would too. However it seems that she is not unlike a cockroach and she will stay regardless if you wish her to or not.” His voice strains a touch, an urgency in it that he hopes will try to get her to focus on that and not the rest of what he’s doing.
He reaches for her hand again, this time a softer approach that he’ll aim to squeeze her palm, his eyes focused on her face as his brows pinch. “She always has an unfortunate way of popping back up. And I am so tired of her ruining everything.” The hand wreathed in shadow, a black blot that’s as if he’s aiming to cover her hand with his other one, and if he manages to get it just right, the thorn will sink into the back of her hand.
Asta tries to heal Thal again (PLS LEMME BE LUCKY THIS TIME)
Astaroth
// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //
