now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence
won't accept your silence
“As am I, darling.” He assures her, flashing a grin over toward Thalassa as they start on their excursion toward the wooded, forested area where the prey Asta is in the market for comes up. They cut a terribly imposing figure as they reach the woods, Asta inclining his head toward her as he lets his little plan slip away. “Something small. I would like to try my hand at a bouquet out of bones.” He can explain further should she wish it, but for the moment as they reach the edge, the butcher’s feet slow.
He tilts his head, ear pointed toward the underbrush that quiets upon their approach. Small creatures flit throughout it, some that aren’t quite as obvious as others. The bird chirps overhead begin to move, too, as if sensing two predators within their midst. “Do you happen to have any requests?” The butcher asks in a whisper, his dark gaze flitting toward Thalassa with a crooked yet extremely sharp smile.
He tilts his head, ear pointed toward the underbrush that quiets upon their approach. Small creatures flit throughout it, some that aren’t quite as obvious as others. The bird chirps overhead begin to move, too, as if sensing two predators within their midst. “Do you happen to have any requests?” The butcher asks in a whisper, his dark gaze flitting toward Thalassa with a crooked yet extremely sharp smile.
Astaroth
beg me for forgiveness
