if you could find your way inside
you'd have to find a way to stay alive
you'd have to find a way to stay alive
It is the worst part of it. The sticky air, the way it catches in one’s throat. The way that there seems to be little to no reprieve. For the butcher, at least, it’s only the occasional visit that helpsIt is the worst part of it. The sticky air, the way it catches in one’s throat. The way that there seems to be little to no reprieve. For the butcher, at least, it’s only the occasional visit that helps keep it at bay.
So he grins at her instead as he explains his shift, and a touch delighted to hear that she isn’t unfamiliar with shifts similar. “I do, admittedly.” He sighs a little, as if it was a terrible burden to bear despite having dealt with worse. “It has certainly been something to navigate.” The soft laugh that leaves him has a hint of pent up energy yet somehow simultaneously tired that he stands shortly after Isla as she tells him she’d love to see him prance.
Which is good, because the butcher needs to let it out one way or another. So he flashes her a brighter, shark tooth grin, and shifts so that man becomes fiery deer. His pelt is dark, a low sheen like an oil slick as it catches the glow of the lava and the fire erupting from the large set of horns protruding from his head. A short tail (but never the less fluffy for it) flicks twice and his hooves click against the lava rock as he turns and in as dramatic and cocky of a motion the butcher can do, he hops off the large flat rock they’d been on to hop to the next section, thin spindly legs rising and falling with a trot that looks more like a dance amongst the flames than it does much else.
It's unfortunately enough to catch the eye of a hidden fyrhund that’s nearer to them than the one he’d been watching earlier. This one was hungrier, tainted by the void.
So he grins at her instead as he explains his shift, and a touch delighted to hear that she isn’t unfamiliar with shifts similar. “I do, admittedly.” He sighs a little, as if it was a terrible burden to bear despite having dealt with worse. “It has certainly been something to navigate.” The soft laugh that leaves him has a hint of pent up energy yet somehow simultaneously tired that he stands shortly after Isla as she tells him she’d love to see him prance.
Which is good, because the butcher needs to let it out one way or another. So he flashes her a brighter, shark tooth grin, and shifts so that man becomes fiery deer. His pelt is dark, a low sheen like an oil slick as it catches the glow of the lava and the fire erupting from the large set of horns protruding from his head. A short tail (but never the less fluffy for it) flicks twice and his hooves click against the lava rock as he turns and in as dramatic and cocky of a motion the butcher can do, he hops off the large flat rock they’d been on to hop to the next section, thin spindly legs rising and falling with a trot that looks more like a dance amongst the flames than it does much else.
It's unfortunately enough to catch the eye of a hidden fyrhund that’s nearer to them than the one he’d been watching earlier. This one was hungrier, tainted by the void.
Astaroth
welcome to the show, come show me in
