// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //
It’s a vow he’s fully going to keep the Maverick accountable for, just in case it is broken down the line. For the moment, however, Astaroth is too comfortable tangled up with the other man – and a part of him feeling guilty for having ruined the night Danta was intending to have – that he seems almost a bit distracted when he nods just enough for the Maverick to be able to feel the gesture from where his head rests into the crook of his neck. “I still require a source of fire to utilize my magic, so, it cannot hurt to have more.” Reasonably so, and in a way that meant he wouldn’t have to focus so much on keeping the fires lit in the first place.
He wants LongNight to be a relaxing time, not aware of what those in the Grounds typically dealt with in the past. And with his attempts to get used to Moira, well, perhaps he could succeed in having a relatively uneventful time. He does immediately realize he needs to get a stash of his own favored food, though, but he’s too drunk to comment or delve further into planning than the bare minimum of the thought itself.
“I will.” He vows quietly in turn to Danta’s request, and it doesn’t take long for the butcher to fall asleep, as drunk as he is, and while he typically has quite an uneventful sleep of hardly moving, Danta’s right in that his subconscious seems to toy with him. It takes some time of nothing but a immoveable sleep, but the arms wrapped around the Maverick tighten, fingertips clutching at the sheets and blankets with a white knuckled death grip, jaw tight enough that the muscle will be sore in the morning, still too far asleep to even realize that it is only a dream.
He wants LongNight to be a relaxing time, not aware of what those in the Grounds typically dealt with in the past. And with his attempts to get used to Moira, well, perhaps he could succeed in having a relatively uneventful time. He does immediately realize he needs to get a stash of his own favored food, though, but he’s too drunk to comment or delve further into planning than the bare minimum of the thought itself.
“I will.” He vows quietly in turn to Danta’s request, and it doesn’t take long for the butcher to fall asleep, as drunk as he is, and while he typically has quite an uneventful sleep of hardly moving, Danta’s right in that his subconscious seems to toy with him. It takes some time of nothing but a immoveable sleep, but the arms wrapped around the Maverick tighten, fingertips clutching at the sheets and blankets with a white knuckled death grip, jaw tight enough that the muscle will be sore in the morning, still too far asleep to even realize that it is only a dream.
Astaroth
// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //
