// with our one foot in the grave //
Wholly at Danta’s mercy, lugged along like a tall anchor for the Theocrat, Astaroth says nothing but tries to regain his shivering breath and the tremors racking through his body, tremors that are slowing but not for a good reason. No, because where it might be far more likely that it’s because he’s warming up, in this instance he’s freezing up back to that gargoyle he’d been essentially a season ago.
It's a struggle up the stairs, and each step feels heavy and weighty, positioned wherever Danta needs him to be before he’s shed of his layers and lets the cane clatter to the ground. The gloves reveal blackening fingertips, his ears a stone grey and darker than the grey in his face, amongst the rest of him where the ice had settled harsher. Hips and legs slowly creeping up a black inky stone held at bay with the warmth of the fireplace and the preventative layers gone to allow the heat in, he gladly places his weight into Danta’s embrace, arms winding around his middle as his face tucks into his neck and shoulder, while the shivering returns. “Evidently th-they we’re wait-t-ting for m-me.” He breathes out, stuttering a little from the chatter of his sharp teeth, he draws silent for a moment to soak in the warmth.
“Th-Thank you, Danta.” He says instead of the cocky, haughty you’re welcome he’d otherwise say, his stuttering voice full of a surprising amount of gratitude.
It's a struggle up the stairs, and each step feels heavy and weighty, positioned wherever Danta needs him to be before he’s shed of his layers and lets the cane clatter to the ground. The gloves reveal blackening fingertips, his ears a stone grey and darker than the grey in his face, amongst the rest of him where the ice had settled harsher. Hips and legs slowly creeping up a black inky stone held at bay with the warmth of the fireplace and the preventative layers gone to allow the heat in, he gladly places his weight into Danta’s embrace, arms winding around his middle as his face tucks into his neck and shoulder, while the shivering returns. “Evidently th-they we’re wait-t-ting for m-me.” He breathes out, stuttering a little from the chatter of his sharp teeth, he draws silent for a moment to soak in the warmth.
“Th-Thank you, Danta.” He says instead of the cocky, haughty you’re welcome he’d otherwise say, his stuttering voice full of a surprising amount of gratitude.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
