Adore me, Hold me and explore me
Charlie wrinkles her nose in a show of mock-helpless affection as his fingers tuck that unruly lock of gold behind her ear, the gesture sweet enough to nearly undo her usual dramatics. But as he continues—no hunting, but blood—her blue eyes will flare wide, lashes fluttering, her tail giving a catlike flick as if begging him to go on.
Her gaze slides to the shawl, lips pursed in a thoughtful hum that’s more theatre than anything else, yet she still tilts her head as if weighing exactly how much crimson it would take to drown lace so delicate. Only then does she turn her attention back to the glittering spread of knives, a little shiver of realisation trailing down her spine as their purpose sharpens. "Asta, you know I live for the messy assignments," she purrs, plucking the proffered blade with the kind of reverence one might reserve for jewellery rather than an instrument of bloodletting. "Of course I'll help." The blade balances prettily in her palm, and she tests the weight as though deciding if it was preferable to the instruments already present in the room. Then, with the barest smirk, she vanishes from the slab in a dart!, reappearing at the door just long enough to sweep it shut so the room's enchantments might fully take effect.
Another dart! and she’s beside him again, close enough that the air carries her perfume, the dagger glittering in one hand while the other wanders up the line of his arm. Fingertips tickle languidly along muscle, tracing the neat line of his sleeve until they reach his bicep, where she lingers with a teasing tap-tap-tap. Her grin curves wicked as her gaze roams the clothes he’s chosen, so much simpler than his usual splendour, but Charlie doubts if there's anything in the butcher's wardrobe that he'd be happy to simply ruin.
"Not just for the sake of your clothes, but for efficiency, I think it'd be best if you were wearing less," the priestess suggests with a raise of her dark eyebrows, knowing well not only how Asta's behaviour had changed with the arrival of Leafchange, but also with how careful he was about allowing physical touch. Still, if this was what Dygra had asked of him, Charlie was not about to shy away from the challenge.
Her gaze slides to the shawl, lips pursed in a thoughtful hum that’s more theatre than anything else, yet she still tilts her head as if weighing exactly how much crimson it would take to drown lace so delicate. Only then does she turn her attention back to the glittering spread of knives, a little shiver of realisation trailing down her spine as their purpose sharpens. "Asta, you know I live for the messy assignments," she purrs, plucking the proffered blade with the kind of reverence one might reserve for jewellery rather than an instrument of bloodletting. "Of course I'll help." The blade balances prettily in her palm, and she tests the weight as though deciding if it was preferable to the instruments already present in the room. Then, with the barest smirk, she vanishes from the slab in a dart!, reappearing at the door just long enough to sweep it shut so the room's enchantments might fully take effect.
Another dart! and she’s beside him again, close enough that the air carries her perfume, the dagger glittering in one hand while the other wanders up the line of his arm. Fingertips tickle languidly along muscle, tracing the neat line of his sleeve until they reach his bicep, where she lingers with a teasing tap-tap-tap. Her grin curves wicked as her gaze roams the clothes he’s chosen, so much simpler than his usual splendour, but Charlie doubts if there's anything in the butcher's wardrobe that he'd be happy to simply ruin.
"Not just for the sake of your clothes, but for efficiency, I think it'd be best if you were wearing less," the priestess suggests with a raise of her dark eyebrows, knowing well not only how Asta's behaviour had changed with the arrival of Leafchange, but also with how careful he was about allowing physical touch. Still, if this was what Dygra had asked of him, Charlie was not about to shy away from the challenge.
Mark your territory, Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
