// i get a toothache every time i lie to someone i love //
Lightning cracks around them, the echo drumming through the valleys of the Levinsward as a ominous backdrop to the story that Asta weaves. Upon reaching the climactic point – the slap, obviously – the Butcher can’t help but to laugh along with her, sighing and rolling his eyes to take a pause. “I am not proud of it.” He half mutters, ashen tail tip twitching where it’s wound around him to rest at his thigh.
But the tale is told and the Butcher settles in to take a sip of his whiskey, content as can be before he’s tugging the coat a bit tigher around him to retain the heat. The liquor helps bolster more warmth at least, and for that Asta is quietly grateful. And while he tells her about the Peephole event, Sicarious carefully snags the jerky from Thalassa’s fingers and then promptly hops over her legs to settle in the middle of the blanket to chew pieces and strips off as though it were some kidn of prized bounty.
“I am not sure.” He admits with a wistful sigh, gaze dropping toward the bone dragon as he considers it. At least, for a few moments before the gore crows fly above them in their own little gathering. Eternally grateful for the bracelet on his arm, Asta returns his attention to Thalassa and ignores the crows. “They were.. warm and inviting and kept leading us deeper until eventually they stopped.” His nose wrinkles briefly before he’s gesturing toward her with the hand that holds the glass of whiskey. “Have you witnessed anything like that?” He asks, taking a sip of the liquor.
But the tale is told and the Butcher settles in to take a sip of his whiskey, content as can be before he’s tugging the coat a bit tigher around him to retain the heat. The liquor helps bolster more warmth at least, and for that Asta is quietly grateful. And while he tells her about the Peephole event, Sicarious carefully snags the jerky from Thalassa’s fingers and then promptly hops over her legs to settle in the middle of the blanket to chew pieces and strips off as though it were some kidn of prized bounty.
“I am not sure.” He admits with a wistful sigh, gaze dropping toward the bone dragon as he considers it. At least, for a few moments before the gore crows fly above them in their own little gathering. Eternally grateful for the bracelet on his arm, Asta returns his attention to Thalassa and ignores the crows. “They were.. warm and inviting and kept leading us deeper until eventually they stopped.” His nose wrinkles briefly before he’s gesturing toward her with the hand that holds the glass of whiskey. “Have you witnessed anything like that?” He asks, taking a sip of the liquor.
Astaroth
// please just look me in my rotting smile and tell me i'm the only one you think of //
