// with our one foot in the grave //
“D-deal.” Astaroth mutters, hissing out another air of frustration as he leans against Dantalion while the soldiers move in to haul the ringleader away. He grits his teeth, trying to keep his shivering to a minimum, his dark hair falling into his face, tinged with a pale sheen of ice on the ends. He tries to soak up what heat the Maverick offers, though its difficult through the layers that originally he’d warn to ward off anything getting in.
As such, his arm slips around the Maverick as he grits his teeth, tasting smoke on his tongue from his shift as they slip into the Dusklight to thankfully averted eyes, the heat blasting him in such an opposite effect that he’s almost dizzy from it. It warms his face at least, granting more color back than the grey it had started to turn, and the ice in his hair begins to melt in cold little droplets down his neck and back. “Yours.” He says on a breath, already aiming them straight for it.
Dantalion’s fireplace was the first and foremost thing on his mind since stepping into the heady Dusklight.
As such, his arm slips around the Maverick as he grits his teeth, tasting smoke on his tongue from his shift as they slip into the Dusklight to thankfully averted eyes, the heat blasting him in such an opposite effect that he’s almost dizzy from it. It warms his face at least, granting more color back than the grey it had started to turn, and the ice in his hair begins to melt in cold little droplets down his neck and back. “Yours.” He says on a breath, already aiming them straight for it.
Dantalion’s fireplace was the first and foremost thing on his mind since stepping into the heady Dusklight.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
