/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain
i promise honey, i can feel your pain
“Perhaps.” Asta says with a hint of amusement creasing the wrinkles by his eyes, one that remains when his face shifts into a slight wince as Danta repeats the subject of his upbringing. A low hum confirms that Dantalion had heard him correctly and he shrugs a shoulder beneath the ruddy leather jacket with the quiet probing. “Numbers were dwindling. We had gone through much of the surrounding area and they turned on one another.” He says with a small sigh. “I had come back from scouting to find half of them tearing each other apart.” So he’d left and never come back.
But he didn’t have the tools necessary at first to not make his presence so overwhelming and primitive to the actual towns and cities with rules against that sort of thing. He’d fucked up, and when he’d become an Ancient he’d told himself he could be better. And such began the reign of his attention to his appearance, his learning of proper etiquette. The less assuming one is, the easier it is to thrive.
Danta’s story distracts him wholly, though, his nose wrinkling as he actually does swing his head back toward the Maverick with dark brows pinched and a look of low seething anger. “You shouldn’t have had to endure that. Was she just hoping it’d keep you from fighting back against her?” He asks, despite knowing the obvious that Morax was a piece of shit person (yet also quite fucking strong, which had always pissed him off), but the fact was that they had never really gone without in the Climb. Whether it were wayward people (Astaroth’s favorites), or the creatures that dwelled in the heat or wandered in, they’d never gone without food. So why make him starve?
But he didn’t have the tools necessary at first to not make his presence so overwhelming and primitive to the actual towns and cities with rules against that sort of thing. He’d fucked up, and when he’d become an Ancient he’d told himself he could be better. And such began the reign of his attention to his appearance, his learning of proper etiquette. The less assuming one is, the easier it is to thrive.
Danta’s story distracts him wholly, though, his nose wrinkling as he actually does swing his head back toward the Maverick with dark brows pinched and a look of low seething anger. “You shouldn’t have had to endure that. Was she just hoping it’d keep you from fighting back against her?” He asks, despite knowing the obvious that Morax was a piece of shit person (yet also quite fucking strong, which had always pissed him off), but the fact was that they had never really gone without in the Climb. Whether it were wayward people (Astaroth’s favorites), or the creatures that dwelled in the heat or wandered in, they’d never gone without food. So why make him starve?
Astaroth
and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///
does that make me insane? ///
