// with our one foot in the grave //
He does feel the smirk bloom, the way the blonde’s chest seems to rise with a sort of pride that Astaroth can certainly pick up on. He’s starting to get the hang of reading the Maverick, and as such he buries his face again a little bit more, content to let the compliment lie where it is as they settle and get more comfortable. He’s not unlike a cat in where Danta shifts just a bit to get comfortable, his fingertips threading through the butcher’s dark hair to his neck, a light shiver racing down his spine as goosebumps flare in the spaces that aren’t destroyed by scar tissue.
“My consolation prize is breaking a collarbone and a beautiful set of fine tea ware.” He hums, stifling a bit of a yawn, before he takes a deep breath only to promptly sigh it out against the other Ancient’s skin. “Perhaps I should look into making statement pieces with the bones I acquire.” Get him back to that edge of terrifying – if only Maea didn’t find out just what the bones were from.
Or, perhaps that should remain only within the confines of his bedroom.
“My consolation prize is breaking a collarbone and a beautiful set of fine tea ware.” He hums, stifling a bit of a yawn, before he takes a deep breath only to promptly sigh it out against the other Ancient’s skin. “Perhaps I should look into making statement pieces with the bones I acquire.” Get him back to that edge of terrifying – if only Maea didn’t find out just what the bones were from.
Or, perhaps that should remain only within the confines of his bedroom.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
