// we haven't won, and if we win, //
It’s a sentiment shared by the both of them, really, because Asta can’t imagine making it entirely to an old enough age that something natural gets to him first. Not for lack of wanting it, but knowing better that given his track record something might try to take him out first – which is why he’s got that revivify feather tucked on his person everywhere he goes where something terrible might happen.
Changing the subject to Safrin is one that has the memory thrumming through him and twitching his tail like an agitated cat, quiet and the only indicator of the butcher’s distaste of it. “It was not. I do not recommend it.” He agrees, briefly, before the mention of Frey promptly swallows up each and every thought of the starry goddess that had filled his veins with healing and left behind the static of stardust.
It’s an outlet that has the butcher’s lips quirking toward something more playful – rare, but there. And as he flips the book to a new page and scribbles down yet another thing that might be a good idea or not, the butcher glances up at her. “I hope so.” He hums, confident that she’d find someone that would be able to be an outlet for her, but knowing her better than to say it aloud.
As for what else they need, he scans the rest of the last book before he’s closing it and closing his journal. “I do believe we’ve got all we need to start.” Looking over at her with a sharp yet knowing grin, the butcher’s head tilts slightly. “Thank you for your help, darling. Can I interest you in a drink or a meal, perhaps?” A dark brow lifts, offering something she’d likely prefer much more to the excitement of this.
Changing the subject to Safrin is one that has the memory thrumming through him and twitching his tail like an agitated cat, quiet and the only indicator of the butcher’s distaste of it. “It was not. I do not recommend it.” He agrees, briefly, before the mention of Frey promptly swallows up each and every thought of the starry goddess that had filled his veins with healing and left behind the static of stardust.
It’s an outlet that has the butcher’s lips quirking toward something more playful – rare, but there. And as he flips the book to a new page and scribbles down yet another thing that might be a good idea or not, the butcher glances up at her. “I hope so.” He hums, confident that she’d find someone that would be able to be an outlet for her, but knowing her better than to say it aloud.
As for what else they need, he scans the rest of the last book before he’s closing it and closing his journal. “I do believe we’ve got all we need to start.” Looking over at her with a sharp yet knowing grin, the butcher’s head tilts slightly. “Thank you for your help, darling. Can I interest you in a drink or a meal, perhaps?” A dark brow lifts, offering something she’d likely prefer much more to the excitement of this.
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
