Astaroth
// but if you think I'm misery,
“Please,” the butcher hums, hesitating enough for Danta to tie back the long raven strands of his hair out from his face so at the very least he wouldn’t have to battle that alongside the mud that coats his boots. Once they’ve finished that, though, it’s a rare event for the butcher to have his hair up so much but it’s the least of his worries as they make their way over toward the disrupted path.
Shovels and buckets are used to try and scoop the mud away, resigning a sigh that’s betrayed by the lilt of his lips as they curve in a small smile. “It shall be well worth it, however.” He’s very much looking forward to it already, based off the soreness lingering in his arms from the antics of his dragon shift and the few crash landings he’d suffered through.
Stretching them out as water pelts down against them, he tries to push his sleeves up enough to keep them from getting too muddy (it will fail spectacularly), because as the butcher snags a shovel to start heaving the mud out and away from the cart half eaten by the mud, the butcher finds trouble. He goes to swing the shovel to dispel some mud, only to feel as it clings to it and the relief of pressure doesn’t come. Instead it launches him off balance again – and thanks to the willowiness of his body and the height he typically boasts about, he’s far too far from the ground to save himself. “Shit--” Is really all he manages to get out before he can’t catch himself and slams into the ground and the mud, coating his entire left side as the shovel and butcher both go down.
Shovels and buckets are used to try and scoop the mud away, resigning a sigh that’s betrayed by the lilt of his lips as they curve in a small smile. “It shall be well worth it, however.” He’s very much looking forward to it already, based off the soreness lingering in his arms from the antics of his dragon shift and the few crash landings he’d suffered through.
Stretching them out as water pelts down against them, he tries to push his sleeves up enough to keep them from getting too muddy (it will fail spectacularly), because as the butcher snags a shovel to start heaving the mud out and away from the cart half eaten by the mud, the butcher finds trouble. He goes to swing the shovel to dispel some mud, only to feel as it clings to it and the relief of pressure doesn’t come. Instead it launches him off balance again – and thanks to the willowiness of his body and the height he typically boasts about, he’s far too far from the ground to save himself. “Shit--” Is really all he manages to get out before he can’t catch himself and slams into the ground and the mud, coating his entire left side as the shovel and butcher both go down.
then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //
it never leaves me alone, no //
