// tell me i'm forgiven, say you'll always be mine //
“There are more where those came from.” Unsurprisingly, of course. The butcher is pretty much a walking dictionary for all the words he could utter from his lips (like he’d spent time studying them and what not). Anyway, the butcher flashes a sharp smile toward Danta and Moira with a nod, a hum of agreement that’s the equivalent of I know she can’t, even as she hops from his lover’s shoulder to land on his own. Her feathers mesh with the tips of his dark hair, as though she’s some kind of extension to his attire – stark against the sweater that is far less menacing than the man wearing it.
Departing from Danta with a smile, the butcher starts his rounds – scouting for any trouble makers, using the tip of the cane to push someone a smidge away before they get too handsy with a server, and flashing a group a shark tooth smile that has them thinking twice about growing more rowdy.
Rather than paperwork, however, the butcher slips by the entrance to check in with the man stationed out there – partially shifted and eager to report that there was nothing but snow out there – the butcher withdraws before his skin starts turning grey. Which leads him back around to the bar and the letters Danta’s perusing through, does he lean against it and hook the cane against the edge, tail flicking behind him contently. “Might the owner take pity on his security and give him a drink?” He hums, full of dramatics.
Departing from Danta with a smile, the butcher starts his rounds – scouting for any trouble makers, using the tip of the cane to push someone a smidge away before they get too handsy with a server, and flashing a group a shark tooth smile that has them thinking twice about growing more rowdy.
Rather than paperwork, however, the butcher slips by the entrance to check in with the man stationed out there – partially shifted and eager to report that there was nothing but snow out there – the butcher withdraws before his skin starts turning grey. Which leads him back around to the bar and the letters Danta’s perusing through, does he lean against it and hook the cane against the edge, tail flicking behind him contently. “Might the owner take pity on his security and give him a drink?” He hums, full of dramatics.
Astaroth
// say that everything is over, tell me i'm fine //
