// with our one foot in the grave //
He knows and its with a glimmer of sorrow that sparks in the dark recesses of his gaze that he leans in to press his forehead to the Maverick’s at the acceptance of his answer and his touch, and its with a quiet sigh of relief that he would get everything else ready. Bruises spark along his hips but mercifully his legs are free from any damage – if not just the pain of walking for gods knew how long. “Thank you.” He offers as he releases Danta, watching with a hint of worry as the blonde vanishes and he sighs as he looks to the bathtub.
Bringing the water to a halt and slipping in with a hiss of relief, he can actually think about what occurred, still feeling oily and sick from it despite the way his bruises feel ten times better. And with fire magic remaining in his veins, Astaroth is able to keep the water piping hot until Danta’s returned, having quite literally passed out for a few moments thanks to the soothing heat against his sore joints and bones.
The second the Maverick steps through the door again, Astaroth is already working to get out of the bath, already more limber than he had been before, collecting the towel and winding it around part of him while he dries off with the heat of the fire elsewhere – enough time for Danta to set the food and wine down, and gingerly steps over to settle on the edge of the bed, sinking into the furs and blankets and annoyingly tugging on Danta’s wrist to pull him in for a proper embrace, even if he’s in the middle of trying to pour wine or offer some of the food to a quite loud and rumbling stomach from the butcher. "I'm sorry." He starts off by saying.
Bringing the water to a halt and slipping in with a hiss of relief, he can actually think about what occurred, still feeling oily and sick from it despite the way his bruises feel ten times better. And with fire magic remaining in his veins, Astaroth is able to keep the water piping hot until Danta’s returned, having quite literally passed out for a few moments thanks to the soothing heat against his sore joints and bones.
The second the Maverick steps through the door again, Astaroth is already working to get out of the bath, already more limber than he had been before, collecting the towel and winding it around part of him while he dries off with the heat of the fire elsewhere – enough time for Danta to set the food and wine down, and gingerly steps over to settle on the edge of the bed, sinking into the furs and blankets and annoyingly tugging on Danta’s wrist to pull him in for a proper embrace, even if he’s in the middle of trying to pour wine or offer some of the food to a quite loud and rumbling stomach from the butcher. "I'm sorry." He starts off by saying.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
