and the mome raths outgrabe

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

Dantalion should consider himself already counted in, evident by the twist of Astaroth’s lips and the bob of his head as they continue to walk and talk, the chill of the breeze off the water causing the Ancient to draw the Maverick’s jacket tighter around his shoulders.

At least the frustration over Morax and Danta’s history fuels him with enough warmth to stoke the fire within him as he tears his gaze from the path to glance sidelong at the Maverick, listening to the explanation that’s admittedly, really fucking sad.

He steps forward, utilizing his longer legs to get into Danta’s space, to stop him in his tracks and force the shorter Ancient’s attention onto him. “Let's leave them, shall we? It’s about time we took the reins.” Their decisions, their own choices, consequences be damned (if there were even a chance they could do anything if they did wake up). “You’ve done quite a marvelous job here without their influence.” The sincerity comes at the tone of his sharp smile and tongue, thirsty yet again for blood, but from a different reason.

A giant middle finger to the statues possibly stuck in the Climb.

Astaroth

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