Dygra
"Sweet butcher," Dygra breathes, her smile growing just a fraction, sharp teeth glittering white and bright even against the shadows and the gemstone fire. "You have been mine for centuries already." Since the day she'd crowned him with fire obsidian, since he'd started to spill blood in her name. But she knows the truth in what he asks, though before she can respond she senses it, that haze in the air, the way it drags the body towards sleep and the mind towards dreams.
It isn't personal, then, the way her hand draws back only to connect with Asta's cheek in a sharp slap that echoes around the Reach. It's insurance, it's evidence of why he is needed here and now. "Knell is still growing," she continues, as though she hasn't given him quite a literal rude awakening from the drowsiness that tries to infect the air. "She does not have your years of experience, or your patience yet. So yes, Astaroth. You would be mine. My knife in the dark, my shadow on the wall, my butcher. Is that agreeable to you?"
Her head tilts a fraction then, exposing the pale and perfect column of her neck. An invitation for him to seal the deal with his teeth, as he has done so many times before.
Sky has used an Impossible Thing to make Asta into a demigod!
It isn't personal, then, the way her hand draws back only to connect with Asta's cheek in a sharp slap that echoes around the Reach. It's insurance, it's evidence of why he is needed here and now. "Knell is still growing," she continues, as though she hasn't given him quite a literal rude awakening from the drowsiness that tries to infect the air. "She does not have your years of experience, or your patience yet. So yes, Astaroth. You would be mine. My knife in the dark, my shadow on the wall, my butcher. Is that agreeable to you?"
Her head tilts a fraction then, exposing the pale and perfect column of her neck. An invitation for him to seal the deal with his teeth, as he has done so many times before.
Sky has used an Impossible Thing to make Asta into a demigod!
