// with our one foot in the grave //
He does not answer the immediate question, cut off as it is when he winds his arms around the other man and presses his forehead to the Maverick’s shoulder. There’s a sudden relief that spreads through him to realize that the other Ancient is in fact real, before he sags a little at the actual question that leaves the Maverick’s lips. “I am only sore.” Astaroth rumbles, though he’s had time on the trek to tend to any wounds that might have been sustained. For now, though, only bruising on his back and sides leave him tender, enough that they don’t need to immediately make the trek back to the Inner Quarter.
He absolutely doesn’t want to talk about it, but he does want to stand here for a few moments longer, leeching some comfort from the other man that he has no right to, no understanding for what exactly it means that this simple act could make him feel better than the past few days have left him with. His jaw is tense, though, and he shakes his head a little where he buries it into Danta’s shoulder a bit harder, exhaling a slow sigh. “What are you doing out here?” He asks instead, for a distraction.
He absolutely doesn’t want to talk about it, but he does want to stand here for a few moments longer, leeching some comfort from the other man that he has no right to, no understanding for what exactly it means that this simple act could make him feel better than the past few days have left him with. His jaw is tense, though, and he shakes his head a little where he buries it into Danta’s shoulder a bit harder, exhaling a slow sigh. “What are you doing out here?” He asks instead, for a distraction.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
