// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //
There was a reason Astaroth always had his own space, especially in the Climb. It was also why he kept to himself night after night, untrusting of any lapses. Since his time in stone, however, he’d certainly adjusted to it, and since then had no issues up until now much to his surprise. So much so, that when it does happen and he scrambles back from Danta only to fall onto the floor, does he suddenly find himself full of regrets and confusion, trying desperately to put the pieces back together.
He doesn’t see Danta’s approach, but he can hear as the Maverick slips onto the floor with him (they both have slept on harder surfaces, it’s true), that he can feel the fire grow and allows himself to be bullied into letting Danta’s arms wind around him, tense and yet somehow boneless, Astaroth heaves a trembly sigh as his hands start to fall away from his face, twitchy and uncertain. “I’m sorry.” He says quietly, unsure what else to say for the moment, warring with himself to try and relax even if nausea spikes in his gut from the lingering nightmare.
He doesn’t see Danta’s approach, but he can hear as the Maverick slips onto the floor with him (they both have slept on harder surfaces, it’s true), that he can feel the fire grow and allows himself to be bullied into letting Danta’s arms wind around him, tense and yet somehow boneless, Astaroth heaves a trembly sigh as his hands start to fall away from his face, twitchy and uncertain. “I’m sorry.” He says quietly, unsure what else to say for the moment, warring with himself to try and relax even if nausea spikes in his gut from the lingering nightmare.
Astaroth
// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //
