// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
They can’t do much more than just intimidate – and Charlie; sweet, lovely, darling Charlie, is brilliant as always. Sharp and feral herself as she grins back at the shadows that watch her intently. They reach for her, harmlessly, helplessly, stretching and warping and losing their sharp outlines with the way Asta’s mind begins to buzz and he forces every ounce of thought and willpower into ensuring he doesn’t break his arms loose from where he’s currently clutching them against his back.
Her voice is distant, a whisper that’s placed in the same vein as chimes and bells, the blood slowing as his breathing grows ragged and tired, his chest sore with the weight of how hard his heart has been forced to beat. He doesn’t quite get to see the end result, as it turns out, because those last few beats of his heart drag him under the blanket of darkness he’d been fighting this entire time. Not dead (not that it would matter much in the rage room), but certainly blacked out.
The second he loses consciousness, the butcher’s haunt drops. The shadows fall from the room, leaving him there limp and completely unaware of anything else that happens, head slumping to the side unless Charlie aims it a certain way. At least the tension in his jaw has loosened, accompanied by the sickly paleness to his usually warm skin tone.
Her voice is distant, a whisper that’s placed in the same vein as chimes and bells, the blood slowing as his breathing grows ragged and tired, his chest sore with the weight of how hard his heart has been forced to beat. He doesn’t quite get to see the end result, as it turns out, because those last few beats of his heart drag him under the blanket of darkness he’d been fighting this entire time. Not dead (not that it would matter much in the rage room), but certainly blacked out.
The second he loses consciousness, the butcher’s haunt drops. The shadows fall from the room, leaving him there limp and completely unaware of anything else that happens, head slumping to the side unless Charlie aims it a certain way. At least the tension in his jaw has loosened, accompanied by the sickly paleness to his usually warm skin tone.
Astaroth
// and i'll paint it red //
