love, do you want love?
do you want lust? say you don't know
do you want lust? say you don't know
“Now that is an idea.” The butcher drawls with all of his playful accented tones – though the brief mental image of peering at themselves in plastic mirrors feels more like a funhouse than it does anything particularly useful, perhaps it would make for an amusing prank. So eh files the idea away for later, working efficiently despite the conversation to continue carving these sections of bones.
He catches her glance when she seems like she might be ramping up to rebuke his claim when he spots the sparkle to her eyes. He simply flashes her a knowing grin back – temporary as he lets his mask start to fall to tell her the truth. He does look tired, like he’s been at war with himself (he has been). It was one thing to have his traditional, usual possessiveness that geared him to start the fight and ask questions later.
It was another to be a cannibal who has had to learn that there’s a time and place for his preferences. Fortunately, he has an insane amount of selfawareness when it came to it, which is the only reason he hasn’t decided to hunt the Hollowed Grounds. Yet, anyway.
Her voice distracts him from those paths, though, and as he sets down the completed portion of this side of the frame, he plucks the next one up – adding in clouds and sun rays beating down on a forest (his best rendition of the Greatwood where she’s told him she’d grown up), following her line of sight to the bracelet on his arm. “Mm, perhaps. Or, perhaps it makes up for the rest of the year? Though Danta does not seem to mind either way. I do think he is exhausted as well.” He pauses in his carving to shrug his shoulder slightly, looking back over to her with a warm smile.
He catches her glance when she seems like she might be ramping up to rebuke his claim when he spots the sparkle to her eyes. He simply flashes her a knowing grin back – temporary as he lets his mask start to fall to tell her the truth. He does look tired, like he’s been at war with himself (he has been). It was one thing to have his traditional, usual possessiveness that geared him to start the fight and ask questions later.
It was another to be a cannibal who has had to learn that there’s a time and place for his preferences. Fortunately, he has an insane amount of selfawareness when it came to it, which is the only reason he hasn’t decided to hunt the Hollowed Grounds. Yet, anyway.
Her voice distracts him from those paths, though, and as he sets down the completed portion of this side of the frame, he plucks the next one up – adding in clouds and sun rays beating down on a forest (his best rendition of the Greatwood where she’s told him she’d grown up), following her line of sight to the bracelet on his arm. “Mm, perhaps. Or, perhaps it makes up for the rest of the year? Though Danta does not seem to mind either way. I do think he is exhausted as well.” He pauses in his carving to shrug his shoulder slightly, looking back over to her with a warm smile.
Astaroth
maybe you just like the control
