my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake
Glancing sidelong at Maea as she grasps at the fireplace mantle, Danta raises a curious brow, his fingers still curled towards himself to ensure his adornments are just so. He doesn't speak, not since he's already given what he sees as adequate clarification, but the question she fires back at him is unexpected enough to have a glimmer of something sharp and chaotic creeping into his gaze.
"If it had not, I wouldn't be standing before you now," he tells her in a low, conspiratory tone. Granted, Danta is all in all a hypocrite, and although his ghosts are far from his door and his past selves long buried, to say that it has worked without a hitch and that he has fixed himself is, after all, a lie. But Maea doesn't need to know that.
"Perhaps we could give you a funeral," he suggests, all mischief and possibilities.
"If it had not, I wouldn't be standing before you now," he tells her in a low, conspiratory tone. Granted, Danta is all in all a hypocrite, and although his ghosts are far from his door and his past selves long buried, to say that it has worked without a hitch and that he has fixed himself is, after all, a lie. But Maea doesn't need to know that.
"Perhaps we could give you a funeral," he suggests, all mischief and possibilities.
the maverick
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
