// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //
Anger rings in his ears as he continues his departure, warring at himself of whether or not he wishes to fall back into old habits. The stitches itch against his skin and with eyes only for his office he carves the ear path toward it, workers immediately making themselves scarce the second they see his shadow appear.
He thinks he can hear Danta’s voice, different than it had been, but it could just be his imagination making something up to explain these feelings he has so vividly. He doesn’t know. By the time Danta does catch up with him, he is in his office, standing in front of the fireplace with both hands on the mantle, leaning in close to the fire with his tail still lashing out behind him, and the quiet mutterings of “stupid fucking shit,” and any number of other quiet curses that seem to delve more self deprecating than anything else.
He thinks he can hear Danta’s voice, different than it had been, but it could just be his imagination making something up to explain these feelings he has so vividly. He doesn’t know. By the time Danta does catch up with him, he is in his office, standing in front of the fireplace with both hands on the mantle, leaning in close to the fire with his tail still lashing out behind him, and the quiet mutterings of “stupid fucking shit,” and any number of other quiet curses that seem to delve more self deprecating than anything else.
Astaroth
// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //
