// with our one foot in the grave //
“That sounds lovely, Danta.” Comes the soft agreement, settling into the comfort and letting it burn away any prior memories or traumas that have been brought up in regards to the Climb in the most recent days.
The wine helps with it as he explains, even as a soft whine escapes him when the Maverick moves just a fraction, eyes pulling away from the window as he looks up at an angle to the blonde, careful to not impale him on the sharp tines of his horns. His brows pinch, confusion clear as day in his face. “Yes. I think that’s why she didn’t pin me down.” Because she remembered how he’d only just told her he was tied down in the Climb to submit to his torture.
Sighing a little, the butcher shifts within Danta’s arms, enough to get a better look at him. “I think she was worried and wanted to try to help..? I don’t know. All I know is that I ran and gave over to my fyrhund instinct.” Here he pauses, uncharacteristically grinding his teeth as more thoughts flood in through the haze of the wine. “I remember getting sick and feeling.. Trapped. So I fought.” His dark gaze drops from Danta’s face to the lightning outside again. “And when I was lying there I recall asking her why she’d followed me again and she told me because I was her friend and that she cared when I was upset. That she said it was her fault even if she didn’t know it. That she hurt me.” His brows pinch as he recalls more and more of those fleeting memories at odds with the living, brimming anger that it had been compartmentalized with. “She did not want me to go through it alone.”
He sighs and pushes up now, turning to face Danta, however slow and sluggish it is. “We argued more.” That’s when she’d said he was an easy target for her frustrations. “She healed me enough to stop coughing blood and I threatened to kill her.” And the rest, Danta knew. That she’d said go ahead and the butcher had fled.
The wine helps with it as he explains, even as a soft whine escapes him when the Maverick moves just a fraction, eyes pulling away from the window as he looks up at an angle to the blonde, careful to not impale him on the sharp tines of his horns. His brows pinch, confusion clear as day in his face. “Yes. I think that’s why she didn’t pin me down.” Because she remembered how he’d only just told her he was tied down in the Climb to submit to his torture.
Sighing a little, the butcher shifts within Danta’s arms, enough to get a better look at him. “I think she was worried and wanted to try to help..? I don’t know. All I know is that I ran and gave over to my fyrhund instinct.” Here he pauses, uncharacteristically grinding his teeth as more thoughts flood in through the haze of the wine. “I remember getting sick and feeling.. Trapped. So I fought.” His dark gaze drops from Danta’s face to the lightning outside again. “And when I was lying there I recall asking her why she’d followed me again and she told me because I was her friend and that she cared when I was upset. That she said it was her fault even if she didn’t know it. That she hurt me.” His brows pinch as he recalls more and more of those fleeting memories at odds with the living, brimming anger that it had been compartmentalized with. “She did not want me to go through it alone.”
He sighs and pushes up now, turning to face Danta, however slow and sluggish it is. “We argued more.” That’s when she’d said he was an easy target for her frustrations. “She healed me enough to stop coughing blood and I threatened to kill her.” And the rest, Danta knew. That she’d said go ahead and the butcher had fled.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
