Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
The longer they settle like this the easier it is for Asta to start to pull himself out of his head, to feel the warmth radiating through each of his bones, and now his limbs aren’t trembling. His head tilts into the Maverick’s blonde hair, humming a little note that seems to snarkily seem like ’yeah, oh’, but refraining to hum a little laugh in response. “I was actually quite good.” Despite Danta looking like a walking warning sign on precisely one half of his body. At least he’d left one side of him pristine.
Danta’s hand covers his own, though, and Asta blinks as his attention focuses on the marks and their hands, as he’s guided along the warmth, soaking it up like he had when he’d stuck those very same fingers into the bonfire a few weeks ago. “They certainly will be. What ever will you tell people?” He muses, a hint of playfulness and deep-seated exhaustion now that he’s horribly sober and far more relaxed than Danta’s ever seen him now that he's gone through the brunt of the cravings.
Danta’s hand covers his own, though, and Asta blinks as his attention focuses on the marks and their hands, as he’s guided along the warmth, soaking it up like he had when he’d stuck those very same fingers into the bonfire a few weeks ago. “They certainly will be. What ever will you tell people?” He muses, a hint of playfulness and deep-seated exhaustion now that he’s horribly sober and far more relaxed than Danta’s ever seen him now that he's gone through the brunt of the cravings.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
