Astaroth
// so sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke. sip the gossip, burn down your throat //
The smile that blooms across his face to hear that Danta knows him well enough to know he’d very likely be limp the rest of the day, he lets the smile answer the question of it for him. It gives him time to let the smile twitch a little softer as he shakes his head, confirming Danta’s suspicion. “Sadly, it is not.” Which is extremely weird feeling. Because given the whole entirety of his life as an Ancient, Asta had never gone a day without his fyrhund shift to rely on. “I suppose She thought the Feirw suited my soul better.”
He could muse all morning about the change in his shifts and simultaneously his identity, but he’s glad to know that it wouldn’t be the end of the world when it came to how many pillows they might go through, depending on how many he skewered with the sharp tines of his fire obsidian horns. It would be the end of the pillows, though. “That is true.” He admits softly.
Blinking slowly as he peers up at Danta and focuses on the feeling of the dark hair being swept out of his face, Asta hardly notices Sicarius until the blinding ping of comfort comes through his mind as she settles into the nest of furs and grumbles a little croaky sound of content – reverberated between man and companion, proven only by the tap against his temple. “Extremely.” He isn’t used to sharing his mind, but he supposes if there was something to share it with so intensely, a bone dragon is probably at the top of the list. “Can you feel Moira all the time? The.. Curiosity and the experiences as they happen?”
He could muse all morning about the change in his shifts and simultaneously his identity, but he’s glad to know that it wouldn’t be the end of the world when it came to how many pillows they might go through, depending on how many he skewered with the sharp tines of his fire obsidian horns. It would be the end of the pillows, though. “That is true.” He admits softly.
Blinking slowly as he peers up at Danta and focuses on the feeling of the dark hair being swept out of his face, Asta hardly notices Sicarius until the blinding ping of comfort comes through his mind as she settles into the nest of furs and grumbles a little croaky sound of content – reverberated between man and companion, proven only by the tap against his temple. “Extremely.” He isn’t used to sharing his mind, but he supposes if there was something to share it with so intensely, a bone dragon is probably at the top of the list. “Can you feel Moira all the time? The.. Curiosity and the experiences as they happen?”
// you're not iconic, you are just like them all. don't act like you don't know //
