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
He draws quiet while he continues to step toward the Talism-Inn, his dark gaze flitting from the Maverick in his arms to the path to ensure he doesn’t step into too many puddles. He feels the weight of the blonde Ancient’s head as it rests heavily against his shoulder, trying to parse his thoughts to try and get his meaning across. And the butcher is patient, always willing to let Danta figure out just what to say. “It does matter, love, just as it mattered when you would refrain from using your gore crow shift before I got my item.” He offers quietly – one in the same.
Trauma for trauma, only Asta had that bracelet to help keep his reined in. But he presses that fiery kiss to his lover and letting him try to warm up wherever he can, even going so far as to blow some flame onto hands turning grey while they walk. There’s a low hum of understanding granted to Danta’s comment, however, because if anyone understood what it was like to be tired of ones self it was definitely the butcher.
“If they are not, I am sure we could make up our own.” He offers, only forced to jostle Danta slightly once they reach the door so he can open it. Slipping inside, they’re met with immediate warmth, the ghoulish green, and symbols of long since past (or made up) histories etched into the exposed wood on the interior. The little dolls swing from the ceiling with the brief gust of wind from the door opening, the chime a haunting note to announce their arrival. And the woman behind the counter looks every ounce the herbalist witch one might imagine – long curly dark hair with streaks of grey and a bright smile to greet them – even going so far as to glance toward that doll in the window that looks a little too much like the butcher, before studying the Theocrat in the taller Ancient’s arms as if she might be considering making one of their leader as well.
It's a quick exchange, one to snag the keys for a room – the best in the space as it turns out. The largest with a view over the Last Whisper’s alleyway, not unlike their room in the Dusklight. The key dangles from his finger as he takes the stairs with surprising ease, opening the door of the largest suite they have to offer. Inside, the room smells similarly to how it had downstairs – with a certain unique mixture of spices and herbs and smoke, and before the butcher has a chance to comment on it, he’s setting the Maverick down on the edge of the bed closest to the fireplace, sparking the flame to let it soak through any greyed joints the other Ancient might have. And in the mean time, he heads toward the large expanse of windows, opening the emerald and golden curtains to reveal the peppering of lights down the wet alley.
And as it turns out, it does seem to have little curses within - not only the etchings continue, but the second the butcher steps away from the curtains he's opened, one slams shut as if saying NO.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
