/// i'm uncontrollable, emotional, chaotically proportional
i'm visceral, reloadable
i'm visceral, reloadable
Asta doesn’t mind waiting, at least. It gives him time to take in the entirety of what this space has become, time to decide whether or not he can pluck and pull the parts that screamed Dantalion out of the rest of it. And gods, it becomes a game of sorts with the mental checklist he has going.
Blood? Check. Red? Check. Gaudy for no really good reason? Check.
You get the idea.
It’s that entirety of a checklist that is also met when that familiar figure arrives, a woman on his arm, the speck of blood on the cuff of his shirt, the rings and jewelry that glint in the light down here.
Astaroth is acknowledged relatively quickly at least, and does admittedly grin there in the shadows as Dantalion’s back snaps straight. And he waits, knowing that Danta wouldn’t be able to leave him alone.
He does step forward when the other Ancient’s arms spread in welcome and he’s acknowledged, the click of the cane and his boots a dull echo as he steps out into the light a bit more, meeting the Maverick halfway. “It looks as if you are replicating.” He points toward the Dusklight with the cane, before it sets back onto the ground and he bends a little to lean toward the other man. “I will admit I do prefer the colors.” He always had, though, and cockily he opens his arms to reveal the same blood red fashioned into the jacket that fits his body tightly and perfectly. It’s the only compliment he can summon up, though, keeping his other thoughts locked within his mind.
Blood? Check. Red? Check. Gaudy for no really good reason? Check.
You get the idea.
It’s that entirety of a checklist that is also met when that familiar figure arrives, a woman on his arm, the speck of blood on the cuff of his shirt, the rings and jewelry that glint in the light down here.
Astaroth is acknowledged relatively quickly at least, and does admittedly grin there in the shadows as Dantalion’s back snaps straight. And he waits, knowing that Danta wouldn’t be able to leave him alone.
He does step forward when the other Ancient’s arms spread in welcome and he’s acknowledged, the click of the cane and his boots a dull echo as he steps out into the light a bit more, meeting the Maverick halfway. “It looks as if you are replicating.” He points toward the Dusklight with the cane, before it sets back onto the ground and he bends a little to lean toward the other man. “I will admit I do prefer the colors.” He always had, though, and cockily he opens his arms to reveal the same blood red fashioned into the jacket that fits his body tightly and perfectly. It’s the only compliment he can summon up, though, keeping his other thoughts locked within his mind.
Astaroth
i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy, i'm crazy ///
everybody in the world knows i'm a little twisted
everybody in the world knows i'm a little twisted
