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Character of the Season
Once known as the Butcher of Whitebrim, he's now The Butcher of Dygra, stepping forward as the first created demigod of the Ancients. There is no question that Astaroth casts an intimidating silhouette. Tall, domineering and dangerous, if looks could kill you'd be dead already, but to get up close and personal with the Grounds' resident cannibal tells a much different story. Dripping with charm and clad in only the finest attire, Asta is a gentleman monster, as polite as they come and committed to his role as security for the Dusklight and those who have earned his loyalty. Be careful of that smile, though - those teeth are sharp.
Congratulations, Asta!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
OG Skinning provided by Kaons, with functionality and many custom plugins made by Neowulf!
At first, Remi couldn't meet Sam's eyes. He knew that the ascended hadn't the easiest life, but for a small and shining moment Remi cruelly wished he was broken in the same ways the alchemist was. The look of hopeful concern, the sad whispered words, the feeling of his finger tips on Remi's face were like ice being slid beneath his skin. Remi felt numb with each passing second, like he was drowning and reality was being pulled farther and farther away.
The worst part though, was that he wasn't sure he wanted to swim back towards the surface. Better to drown now, than break Sam's heart.
The alchemist's eyes were shiny with tears, the red around them making the pale green of his gaze seem extra verdant in the darkness. Gently they focused, staring into Sam's then falling from freckle to freckle to lips that he very much wanted against his own. Instead though, those lips parted, and the words spoken were like a madness Remi was helpless to cling to.
"No—" Remi whispered through lips moist with tears and a throat which was rapidly choking with emotion. "No Sam...you cannot...you—" The alchemist tried again, pulling out of Sam's all too gentle touch. Raking his hands against his skull, Remi stood, eyes closed, his breathing laboured with confusion and contradiction. One hand gripped a handful of his curls as his jaw tensed. The lion inside of him whispered dark thoughts of claws against skin, blending the copper of Sam's hair with how musky the coppery scent of blood would be in this small room. How nice blue eyes would look against crimson, how soothing the scent of death. That part of him hardened both internally and externally, the line between lust and murder for the lion a blurry line at best.
R E M I
I followed your ashes into outer space
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.