// with our one foot in the grave //
“A real bed sounds lovely.” Astaroth concedes, watching as the fire dies around them and remaining stock still as he’s given the second once over. As Danta moves to tuck in at his side to help bear some of the weight, the butcher stifles the wince that creases the crows feet on the corners of his eyes, but gladly loops his arm around the Maverick’s shoulders.
It is slow going, and just before his legs start to feel like jelly and pulp does the Sparkbird’s Nest come into view. He nearly sags further with relief, but prevents himself from doing so until they’re within the confines of the building and away from the electricity that continues to have him somewhat on edge. Dark eyes take in the people coming and going, before he unwinds his arm from around Danta’s shoulders – appearances and all that, of course, wouldn’t want to give the wrong impression after all – and gestures for the blonde to take the lead. “I will manage until we are inside the room.” He says softly, following on Danta’s heels like a sore, lost dog.
Taking in the building on the inside, though, it’s adorned with golden couches and embroidered lightning strikes to match the scars on the stone outside and the Levinsward proper, and Astaroth finds it a welcome distraction, hand running gingerly along the back of the sitting area’s couch to distract himself with the soft touch while he trusts Danta does whatever he needs to get them a room, waiting patiently to be directed wherever.
It is slow going, and just before his legs start to feel like jelly and pulp does the Sparkbird’s Nest come into view. He nearly sags further with relief, but prevents himself from doing so until they’re within the confines of the building and away from the electricity that continues to have him somewhat on edge. Dark eyes take in the people coming and going, before he unwinds his arm from around Danta’s shoulders – appearances and all that, of course, wouldn’t want to give the wrong impression after all – and gestures for the blonde to take the lead. “I will manage until we are inside the room.” He says softly, following on Danta’s heels like a sore, lost dog.
Taking in the building on the inside, though, it’s adorned with golden couches and embroidered lightning strikes to match the scars on the stone outside and the Levinsward proper, and Astaroth finds it a welcome distraction, hand running gingerly along the back of the sitting area’s couch to distract himself with the soft touch while he trusts Danta does whatever he needs to get them a room, waiting patiently to be directed wherever.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
