Adore me, Hold me and explore me
Charlie knows the exact moment Asta slips beneath the dark tide; not because his head lolls or his chest stutters, but because every sharpened instinct in her hums with the change. Predatory senses scream that he’s gone slack, unconscious, the heartbeat slowing into that dangerous lull. But Charlie doesn’t falter. Not until the lace is drunk deep, every pale thread saturated crimson, does she relent. The priestess holds steady, tail curling reverently as she lifts the sodden relic away and sets it on the counter with all the delicacy of a chalice in ceremony.
Different circumstances might have let her tug him free by hand, but here? With the slab sticky with his blood, his weight anchored, it’s no good. She wrinkles her nose, makes her choice. "Oh, Asta," she sighs, affectionate even now, "I'm sorry for this in advance."
In an instant she’s dart!ed to the door, swinging it open before flashing back to his side. The shift overtakes her like an eclipse; one heartbeat she’s blonde and radiant, the next she’s onyx-scaled and monstrous, wings and horns and serpentine length forcing every inch of the rage room to buckle around her. It isn’t elegant, it isn’t tidy, and it isn’t meant to be. Stone groans, foundations crack, the world shrieks under her impossible bulk as she drives her body forward, using sheer size to shove the limp butcher out through the narrow spill of freedom.
The moment he clears the threshold she’s gone again, dart!ing out on delicate heels just as the room threatens to crumble under her weight. And as her feet kiss the floor outside, the Temple sighs back into order, the rage room knitting itself whole and pristine once more, as if no dragon had ever burst through its bones.
Different circumstances might have let her tug him free by hand, but here? With the slab sticky with his blood, his weight anchored, it’s no good. She wrinkles her nose, makes her choice. "Oh, Asta," she sighs, affectionate even now, "I'm sorry for this in advance."
In an instant she’s dart!ed to the door, swinging it open before flashing back to his side. The shift overtakes her like an eclipse; one heartbeat she’s blonde and radiant, the next she’s onyx-scaled and monstrous, wings and horns and serpentine length forcing every inch of the rage room to buckle around her. It isn’t elegant, it isn’t tidy, and it isn’t meant to be. Stone groans, foundations crack, the world shrieks under her impossible bulk as she drives her body forward, using sheer size to shove the limp butcher out through the narrow spill of freedom.
The moment he clears the threshold she’s gone again, dart!ing out on delicate heels just as the room threatens to crumble under her weight. And as her feet kiss the floor outside, the Temple sighs back into order, the rage room knitting itself whole and pristine once more, as if no dragon had ever burst through its bones.
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.
