/// i'm uncontrollable, emotional, chaotically proportional
i'm visceral, reloadable
i'm visceral, reloadable
The immediate shift of mood from Danta only adds to Asta’s tail lashing beneath the bar, the compliment aired and caught and the buzz that burns in Asta’s hot blood only continues to bloom from the alcohol as he ducks his head the tiniest bit, dark eyes focusing on the way Danta lifts so effortlessly, as if the compliment was all he needed to alleviate the shit spanning centuries between them.
Astaroth doesn’t respond to the comment, instead, his nose wrinkles – which is answer enough for the other Ancient, and he exhales a slow sigh, fully not believing Dantalion is capable of crafting him anything nice, immediately suspicious of it. But he is surprised as the Maverick is the one to actually craft it, watching idly while his tail starts to calm down from a lashing, pissed off cat, to waving idly.
“It was… Strange. Innovative, I suppose, but strange.” He shrugs lightly, sitting back and exhaling softly. “I even took one to Stormbreak after.” More idle commentary, no details on that, but the attire he wears should make it make sense. And it’s all he has to say for the moment as his dark eyes take in the martini glass sliding toward him, leaning forward as he inspects it. He’s still uncertain, taking a sniff of it and smelling nothing but sweet chocolate and a hint of alcohol (he knows there’s more in it than it gives away), but the chocolate immediately has his gaze lifting to Danta as he takes a sip.
He stills so quickly, lips twitching in a smile that wishes to bloom, and between the alcohol and the surprising kindness, and his head tilts a little – one lock of dark hair falling into his face. “This is… Divine, Danta.” It feels like he’s trying to choke when he says it, but the second it leaves his lips it sounds as sincere as he’d intended it, even if it burned.
Astaroth doesn’t respond to the comment, instead, his nose wrinkles – which is answer enough for the other Ancient, and he exhales a slow sigh, fully not believing Dantalion is capable of crafting him anything nice, immediately suspicious of it. But he is surprised as the Maverick is the one to actually craft it, watching idly while his tail starts to calm down from a lashing, pissed off cat, to waving idly.
“It was… Strange. Innovative, I suppose, but strange.” He shrugs lightly, sitting back and exhaling softly. “I even took one to Stormbreak after.” More idle commentary, no details on that, but the attire he wears should make it make sense. And it’s all he has to say for the moment as his dark eyes take in the martini glass sliding toward him, leaning forward as he inspects it. He’s still uncertain, taking a sniff of it and smelling nothing but sweet chocolate and a hint of alcohol (he knows there’s more in it than it gives away), but the chocolate immediately has his gaze lifting to Danta as he takes a sip.
He stills so quickly, lips twitching in a smile that wishes to bloom, and between the alcohol and the surprising kindness, and his head tilts a little – one lock of dark hair falling into his face. “This is… Divine, Danta.” It feels like he’s trying to choke when he says it, but the second it leaves his lips it sounds as sincere as he’d intended it, even if it burned.
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
