// allow me to introduce myself //
It is working beautifully, to the point that the butcher has joined one of the groups of onlookers, smirking behind the shawl that hides half of his face. People arrive to help, granting her a safe passage toward the bench before they continue on. The man she’s impersonating is stubborn, though, and continues to go without help – frowning and grumbling and talking to himself like someone who’s lost his mind.
He's old, though, perhaps he has.
Ah, but then Melita is calling out to him and he breaks from the crowd that starts to fall away, drifting over with practiced ease over the somewhat slippery cobblestones to reach the bench to sit beside her and take in the full grimace that’s on display – glancing back to the man across the way as he huffs a little more hot air. “You are doing an impeccable job, darling.” He says lowly, tilting his horned head back toward her and her “frail” composure.
He's old, though, perhaps he has.
Ah, but then Melita is calling out to him and he breaks from the crowd that starts to fall away, drifting over with practiced ease over the somewhat slippery cobblestones to reach the bench to sit beside her and take in the full grimace that’s on display – glancing back to the man across the way as he huffs a little more hot air. “You are doing an impeccable job, darling.” He says lowly, tilting his horned head back toward her and her “frail” composure.
Astaroth
// i'm the one who pulls all the strings, son //
