seven sins, don't let them in

// Greed won't rest 'til he's crowned as a king //

It is and it isn’t funny, because on one hand the butcher would love nothing more than to forget and pretend it was still a similar time frame to what he’s used to, but he’s also faced with the differences more often than not. The star paths he would take to get around out and about were different now, nothing like what he’d recalled back in the day when he’d scouted, and when he was often alone in Halo and even the Climb, they had been their own little comfort. A friend, of sorts, and one that was no longer there. “Mm, yes.” He agrees with a wistful sigh, the corner of his lips twitching up. “Along those lines, it feels as though it has only been fifteen-ish years since I became an Ancient.” He hums.

Slipping into their room, the butcher closes the door behind them and locks it, hooking his cane beside it and knocks back his own second shot, relishing in the warmth that greets his skin and drips along his bones. Setting the glass down and looking up in time to see Danta’s hands extend toward him, he ignores everything else in order to reach his fiance, not unlike a moth to flame. “I hear the auroras are different than they were when I was there.” He admits of Halo, stilling in front of the Maverick, buzzed leaning toward being drunk, completely letting the other Ancient start to rid him of his rumpled, stained clothes as though he were a doll. “Supposedly they are more vibrant.”

Astaroth

// From the land to the sea, he'll take all that he needs //