[SE] cut from marble

Astaroth

// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //

He hears her muttering, of course, but he makes no comment on it. It does little good to poke and prod at her when she’s clearly uncomfortable. But he’s a gentleman, evident in how he’s sought out her safety, offered his bed for her to stay in, and is already in the middle of making a small little fur nest on the floor in front of the fireplace. He hardly pays her much mind, really, fixing and readjusting the blankets and pillows to where he thinks they’d be the most comfortable.

Only then when he loosens the top two buttons of his shirt – keeping it on for her comfort – does he settle into the blankets, horned head resting on the pillow, dark eyes focusing on the licking flames. He can see her in the mirror, tense and straight backed, as if not allowing herself to grow comfortable. So he doesn’t stare, continues to watch the flames – knowing that if he can see her then she can see him in the reflection of the mirror all the same. “Take a few deep breaths, grab a blanket, and try to relax. It will be fine and morning before you realize it.” He offers, nestling in a bit more into the pillow, hand outstretched to the warmth of the edge of the flame to let his fingertips dip into the oranges and whites of the fire.

// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //