Dygra
"Astaroth." His name drips from her lips like a brand, and around her the cavern of gemstones seems to shift and writhe with his entrance, making space for him to arrange himself before her. Dygra breathes him in, matching his smile with one just as sharp and jagged as his own, though as he settles she shakes her head, beckoning him to draw up to his full height. Buxom and surprisingly petite in this form though she may be, Asta will find himself somehow never looking down at her despite what physics and reality might decide.
"The honour is yet to come, my gentleman monster." Once they are just so, she reaches out with fingers tipped with nails as dark and sharp as shards of obsidian, cupping his cheek in her palm. "That is, if you are ready to receive it."
The cloak of rough stone shifts with her a fraction, revealing the impossible glow of blood red rubies within, and she regards him as if ensuring all parts of him are in order. "You were at the Peepholes. You recall the strangeness there." It isn't a question. "Such chaos is to be embraced, but I sense there may be complications in it. Complications that may require a butcher, should the occasion call for it."
"The honour is yet to come, my gentleman monster." Once they are just so, she reaches out with fingers tipped with nails as dark and sharp as shards of obsidian, cupping his cheek in her palm. "That is, if you are ready to receive it."
The cloak of rough stone shifts with her a fraction, revealing the impossible glow of blood red rubies within, and she regards him as if ensuring all parts of him are in order. "You were at the Peepholes. You recall the strangeness there." It isn't a question. "Such chaos is to be embraced, but I sense there may be complications in it. Complications that may require a butcher, should the occasion call for it."
