did i take you from the bats in the woods?

// we can't see the end from the start //

“Ah, ah, ah!” Asta clicks toward Sicarius, loud enough to startle her but hopefully not bother the spirits and Flora – having crept out of the room relatively early, the Butcher’s down in the bar section, very evidently invested in vacation with how he’s got a glass and is pouring a knuckle or two of dark liquor within it. Nothing fancy, he wouldn’t dare to use her best spirits this early in the morning, but a little bit of day drinking sounded phenomenal when it came to warming one’s bones up. “We are guests, darling. And besides, you recall what trouble you got into back home when you tried to sneak around the bottles?” The chastise slips easily from his lips, gentle and soft toward the young but noodle-like dragonling made completely out of bones, one foot outstretched toward a bottle like she might tempt fate anyway.

It earns her a more pointed look, and with a puff of dark smoke from her lips she withdraws from the sea green bottle in question and precisely within reach of the Butcher to pluck her from the counter, lifting her to rest against his shoulders where she can finally settle. She wraps around his throat like a collar, leaving little puffs of dark hair sticking out from the back but for once the Butcher doesn’t seem to mind, not as he lifts the glass to his lips and takes a sip, settling into the bar stool with the dragonling, indulging in the sunrise that starts to fill the Wildering House.

Astaroth

// but i don't fear the dark //