and the mome raths outgrabe

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

He remains cowering, growling and hissing and watching for more as Danta takes his fill, fully unaware that it’s the Maverick that’s come to take part in the hunt. And it makes it even worse for him to sit there and have to watch, especially as the other Ancient shifts back and Asta only barely begins to relax, each muscle tense to the point of quivering, to pain.

Crouching closer, the fyrhund eyes Danta, sees the bow, and approaches to take a few strips just to take the edge off. He’ll save the rest of it for later; but he’s careful to position himself directly opposite of the Maverick.

Some sense comes back, though, in the face of rage and anger as he shifts into himself, still knelt in the ground, shirtless because he hadn’t anticipated not shifting until he was home again and content, only to practically snarl at the Maverick. “How fucking gracious of you.” He snaps through a snarl, though it’s clear there’s still that quivering tension of his muscles, and every fucking scar on display, carved from his forearms by his elbows all the way up his arms, criss crossing against his back and chest and deep in places that the shadows turn it black.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///