run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
She’s warm and molds against him as he hugs her tight to him despite the soreness and the bruises that are slowly recovering day by day. And as he takes her hand, he feels her squeeze back in agreement just before the spirits of the Wildering House make their appearance with all the lovely little items they’ll need for a perfect day in her healing waters.
“Thank you, my dears.” The butcher trills as he lets Flora’s hand go to collect the towel and the swim trunks, taking note of the little hellhounds and their proud puffed out chests as they appear to be designed like they’re trotting across the soft material. “Oh, and hellhounds,” he drawls with a warm laugh of appreciation, his tail wagging slightly with the reaction not unlike a dog about to go to the park).
Nuding her back lightly with his shoulder as he beams his sharp smile her way, he takes in her bright gaze and sighs contently with the prospect of becoming a prune. “Very good. I cannot wait.” He says as he follows her without any additional prompting, listening instead to the things he’s missed since they’d last talked.
“Oh ho, do tell.” The butcher grins over at Flora – letting the smile fade slightly as he perks up with the mention of the Hanged Man. “What happened to the Hanged Man?” He asks, trying to recall if he’d heard her mention anything about it when they’d gotten together during LongNight. “As for Kai, I can try to be somewhat helpful for his birthday party planning. It is Danta’s this season as well and have thankfully already planned most of it, even if the mud behemoth was a surprise.” His nose wrinkles as he shakes his head and sighs, stepping out after her toward the steaming pool toward the lounging pool chairs where he might be able to change and slip out of the clothes he’d traveled in so he can slip on the hellhound shorts.
Slow at first, the butcher peels the jacket and the shirt off, revealing the mapping of healing bruises that are there that the healing waters would hopefully take good care of, and the wide arcs of pale skin on his arm in three separate places which are new from the last time she had seen his arm and multitude of scars already littered about.
“Thank you, my dears.” The butcher trills as he lets Flora’s hand go to collect the towel and the swim trunks, taking note of the little hellhounds and their proud puffed out chests as they appear to be designed like they’re trotting across the soft material. “Oh, and hellhounds,” he drawls with a warm laugh of appreciation, his tail wagging slightly with the reaction not unlike a dog about to go to the park).
Nuding her back lightly with his shoulder as he beams his sharp smile her way, he takes in her bright gaze and sighs contently with the prospect of becoming a prune. “Very good. I cannot wait.” He says as he follows her without any additional prompting, listening instead to the things he’s missed since they’d last talked.
“Oh ho, do tell.” The butcher grins over at Flora – letting the smile fade slightly as he perks up with the mention of the Hanged Man. “What happened to the Hanged Man?” He asks, trying to recall if he’d heard her mention anything about it when they’d gotten together during LongNight. “As for Kai, I can try to be somewhat helpful for his birthday party planning. It is Danta’s this season as well and have thankfully already planned most of it, even if the mud behemoth was a surprise.” His nose wrinkles as he shakes his head and sighs, stepping out after her toward the steaming pool toward the lounging pool chairs where he might be able to change and slip out of the clothes he’d traveled in so he can slip on the hellhound shorts.
Slow at first, the butcher peels the jacket and the shirt off, revealing the mapping of healing bruises that are there that the healing waters would hopefully take good care of, and the wide arcs of pale skin on his arm in three separate places which are new from the last time she had seen his arm and multitude of scars already littered about.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
