// with our one foot in the grave //
Blissfully unaware of the inspection that takes place, the Butcher sleeps so deep and so still it’s almost surprising (if it weren’t for the sedative in the medicine, of course). There’s also the subconscious level of his pain that prevents him from turning and twisting, having found the one spot that’s comfortable and never quite leaving it. At least until he starts to wake and stir, sluggishly turning to seek out the warm body beside him, Astaroth is not coherent at all by the time he’s bullied his way into resting his head on Danta’s lap as a pillow.
But don’t worry, Danta, it’s still in a perfect spot to keep running that hand through his hair.
Only after a few long moments of that and little stirring and unhidden winces, Astaroth’s eyes start to blink open, as if taking in his surroundings (like he’s forgotten or half expected yesterday to be a dream and that he’d wake on the solid cold ground again). As it so happens, though, he blinks up and focuses on the light filtering through the window, setting the blonde of Danta’s hair into a golden river, blocked only partially by the mug the other Ancient sips from.
Turning with a slight hiss that he does try to hide, the butcher presses his face into Danta’s stomach, eyes closing as he offers a muffled and sleep hoarse “good morning, darling.”
But don’t worry, Danta, it’s still in a perfect spot to keep running that hand through his hair.
Only after a few long moments of that and little stirring and unhidden winces, Astaroth’s eyes start to blink open, as if taking in his surroundings (like he’s forgotten or half expected yesterday to be a dream and that he’d wake on the solid cold ground again). As it so happens, though, he blinks up and focuses on the light filtering through the window, setting the blonde of Danta’s hair into a golden river, blocked only partially by the mug the other Ancient sips from.
Turning with a slight hiss that he does try to hide, the butcher presses his face into Danta’s stomach, eyes closing as he offers a muffled and sleep hoarse “good morning, darling.”
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
