Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
Things were slowly going back to normal – a normal in which the butcher and Maverick have ended up returning to work. Enough that Danta’s in his office and Kiada took it as an excuse to zip out for coffee and to check in with Fox, such that when Deimos steps down the path toward the office to the door, Astaroth is slipping out of it and closing the door easily behind him, straightening up and heading out the back door of the backrooms to head out to the muddy street.
The hood of his wool jacket is tugged up to blot out the rain, sat a touch too high on his head with the help of his antler-horns. Stepping across the street and under the cover of the buildings beside him, the butcher looks up precisely in time to spot Deimos heading toward the Dusklight. Popping on a cheerful razor sharp smile, he nods his chin toward Deimos if he’s acknowledged, his shadows dancing at his heels with equally bright grins. “Deimos, hello. What brings you to the Grounds?” He asks, even if It’s none of his business, really. Call him curious.
The hood of his wool jacket is tugged up to blot out the rain, sat a touch too high on his head with the help of his antler-horns. Stepping across the street and under the cover of the buildings beside him, the butcher looks up precisely in time to spot Deimos heading toward the Dusklight. Popping on a cheerful razor sharp smile, he nods his chin toward Deimos if he’s acknowledged, his shadows dancing at his heels with equally bright grins. “Deimos, hello. What brings you to the Grounds?” He asks, even if It’s none of his business, really. Call him curious.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
