// with our one foot in the grave //
“S’close enough.” The butcher slurs lightly, pausing immediately in his attempt to stand from the window’s bench at the sight of Danta snagging the blanket – and how he seems to move impossibly fast. It doesn’t matter, though, because in that very same impossibly fast movement the Maverick is doing, a warm blanket is draped across him and his arms twist into it to keep it pressed against his chest, quite literally needing no other encouragement to press his back into the warmth the blonde Ancient offers.
“I did too.” Lifting an elbow under the blanket to gesture toward the plate, the Theocrat would be able to see that there was one item missing. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something, even as his head lolls back against Danta’s chest a fraction, dark eyes viewing the lightning strikes across the way in the barren expanse. “It still causes some pain in my throat to eat. The wine has helped, though.” He offers a hint unhelpfully, not realizing he’d left that particular tidbit of the gritty details out.
“I did too.” Lifting an elbow under the blanket to gesture toward the plate, the Theocrat would be able to see that there was one item missing. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something, even as his head lolls back against Danta’s chest a fraction, dark eyes viewing the lightning strikes across the way in the barren expanse. “It still causes some pain in my throat to eat. The wine has helped, though.” He offers a hint unhelpfully, not realizing he’d left that particular tidbit of the gritty details out.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
