// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //
Of course the butcher is delighted to hear the same consensus fall from Danta’s lips, the grin spanning his face is stretched wide and impossibly sharper in the sun that filters down through a drifting cloud. The ground here is wet and soggy enough that his boots sink in as he lets his dark gaze linger back on Danta and his usual — quite informal but handsome — attire. “You would loathe living in a mansion, darling.” He comments with a fraction of amusement.
Obviously incredibly intrigued by the memory it sparks with the Maverick, Astaroth’s steps shift to slow him down a bit, giving a chance for the shorter Ancient to catch up, letting a deep chuckle escape him. “Chaotic, mm?” It takes an act of god to pull his gaze away from the blonde, but he starts to scan the top of the large hill as they crest it for anything of note and out of place, or purple for that matter. A hum of no starts to leave his lips until something catches his eye and his shoulder brushes against Danta’s as his hand lifts to pull the Maverick to a stop with him and give a light squeeze.
“That doesn’t appear to belong, what do you think?” He hums with a spark of delight, head over Danta’s shoulder as he points out a tendril-ified tangleweed suddenly darting through the grasses and up the hill, its shadowy and purple appendages tugging and pulling along newly blooming flowers, leaving a wake of dread and darkness in its path.
Obviously incredibly intrigued by the memory it sparks with the Maverick, Astaroth’s steps shift to slow him down a bit, giving a chance for the shorter Ancient to catch up, letting a deep chuckle escape him. “Chaotic, mm?” It takes an act of god to pull his gaze away from the blonde, but he starts to scan the top of the large hill as they crest it for anything of note and out of place, or purple for that matter. A hum of no starts to leave his lips until something catches his eye and his shoulder brushes against Danta’s as his hand lifts to pull the Maverick to a stop with him and give a light squeeze.
“That doesn’t appear to belong, what do you think?” He hums with a spark of delight, head over Danta’s shoulder as he points out a tendril-ified tangleweed suddenly darting through the grasses and up the hill, its shadowy and purple appendages tugging and pulling along newly blooming flowers, leaving a wake of dread and darkness in its path.
Astaroth
// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //
