Recent content by Asta

There won't be a head to decorate after I tear it right off your neck, Asta thought, unaware of her face speaking for her while her lips pressed tighter into a thinner line. She had no words for the man she was forced to work with. She had always settled arguments with her fists. Words and logic...

The silence was welcomed. Just as the werewolf was about to allow herself a hint of a smirk, a small sign of victory in her battle against monsters, he spoke again. Her sole fist that loosely held the leather reigns in her hand tightened, a soft prick of nail against palm. His words hung between...

When coin was low and her belly growled endlessly through the night, Asta knew it was time to pick up an odd job. The more ravenous she was, the smarter the wolf was— able to get out of her trickster ties and rampage across the lines. She’d wake up, naked and disoriented, with the rancid breath...

This was why Asta should never used her “nice voice” because it allowed someone to have the goddamn gall of speaking to her like she was some idiot. Her nostrils flared as she exhaled loudly, wanting the young man to hear how little time she had for his attitude— which, in case he was unaware...

The inn was farther away than she had thought it was. That was what happened when she got directions from old farmers, they never seemed to realize how long things took when on foot instead of a horse. Unfortunately, horses didn’t like Asta very much. Not that she cared, the werewolf hunter...

“I ain’t lyin’, Anna!” “Asta.” The woman corrected. Really, one would think that someone would learn to the name of a person carrying a giant battle axe on their back, but Otto was the sort of old man who couldn’t remember a name much less a face. It made his story about the were-weasels highly...

It was a good thing that Raf had stopped talking as soon as Tulio threw himself onto the ground, Asta had stopped listening the moment the good boy did the best roll over she had ever seen. She clapped her hands, cooing at the dog in a baby voice. “What a good boy,” Asta said, both hands going...

Somewhere in Asta’s mind she knew the words of this Goddess were wrong. Pain and death multiplying, a strange feeling like watching a sinking yet living light from the sky fall down behind the horizon. There was a mixture of intrigue and horror and Asta could do nothing but look at Mallia. Why...

“You’re not allowed to do any of those until you learn how to wear clothes,” Asta said in regards to the girl’s question being answered. Her voice was a low whisper, eyes trained on what was supposed to be Mallia. “Sometimes you just say fucking because it’s cool. Holy fucking shit sounds cooler...

“Of course they don’t. Religion makes people placid.” Asta said, surprising herself with the vehemence in her tone. Her fingers were still for a moment. “Well. Not all the time.” It felt wrong to have said that. Her grandma would be turning in her grave if she knew. Good thing she was far away...

It was immediately, the change in her face, her body, her entire demeanor and aura. Her eyes once blazing with fury softened and she looked at Tulio with a smile that matched her gold eyes. “I am nice.” Asta agreed. She knelt down, shaky hands going over to then pet the dog. His little metal...

Tulio was a sweet fluffy little moron. Even now he seemed oblivious to the words that Asta had said, if anything, Tulio looked rather pleased with having the two of them lower on the ground. Or maybe the dog was quite fond of Rafael and was happy just to have the man hug him. That wouldn’t...

Gold eyes regarded Izolde with a inchoate blaze of aggression, but this look was hardly one reserved for the shifter. It was for any who dared look her way, for any pair of eyes that lingered too long. Making eye contact didn’t help, staring them all down did little to calm her nerves. But how...

“No shit.” Asta cursed under her breath, fingers tightening up around the tunic and turning it into a wad of fabric as she pictured it being Isolde’s neck. “Damn brat. Kids these days. Ungrateful. Don’t expect me to be nice again.” She muttered under her breath, thinking how she shouldn’t be...

A part of Asta felt like every other word that fell from Rafael’s lips had to be a lie. A second part of her felt a sort of intrigue that she had to keep at bay. Yet her thoughts would wander to the possibility of maybe he was on something. Asta could, more than she would ever want to admit to...