// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //
Her light playfulness is met with a warm and low chuckle – allowing her the jest despite knowing how it cut deeper. “That is true. Though, I suppose, a fireplace does not talk back.” He muses thoughtfully, horned head tilting enough to allow strands of his raven black hair to slip and get caught on the protruding horn. “Though, perhaps enchanted fireplaces could exist.” He doesn’t know if it’s a reality, but given the nature of their joking and her preference to fireplaces in lieu of people that could manipulate her, maybe an enchanted fireplace would be up the alley of options.
He does seem a little too interested when she tells him that he sounded certain they weren’t coming back – and for that the butcher exhales a soft sigh of relief, hidden behind the sharp smile aimed her way. “Well, I suppose your next few bloodlust hunts shall be quite interesting. Imagining his face on everything you tear up.” He’d love to be there to see it, too. The spray of blood and fiery passion in the air as some poor creature is utterly destroyed sounded delightful.
She pours herself some more alcohol and the butcher peers down at the limp, sad looking rose still in his hand with one singular petal sticking out when she makes her offer. “Mm, how about a hunt later as well?” He asks, raising his brow as he decides against setting the singular petal aflame, instead allowing his hand to suddenly spark with it and light the entire flower up in a haze of blue, white, and orange sparks.
He does seem a little too interested when she tells him that he sounded certain they weren’t coming back – and for that the butcher exhales a soft sigh of relief, hidden behind the sharp smile aimed her way. “Well, I suppose your next few bloodlust hunts shall be quite interesting. Imagining his face on everything you tear up.” He’d love to be there to see it, too. The spray of blood and fiery passion in the air as some poor creature is utterly destroyed sounded delightful.
She pours herself some more alcohol and the butcher peers down at the limp, sad looking rose still in his hand with one singular petal sticking out when she makes her offer. “Mm, how about a hunt later as well?” He asks, raising his brow as he decides against setting the singular petal aflame, instead allowing his hand to suddenly spark with it and light the entire flower up in a haze of blue, white, and orange sparks.
Astaroth
// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //
