reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
“Correct on all accounts.” He rumbles with a twitch of his lips, amusement flaring in the flick of his tail, still studying the Theocrat’s face as the nostalgia creeps in. It’s why he’s been so tame here. Enough sleep, enough food, and so little gobshites to ruin his clothes (and thankfully, a good enough tailor to fix any issues that did arise).
But nostalgia overcomes Astaroth in a way that he’d typically never allow – so the Maverick is fortunate in being able to see this side of him, not without the panic induced nostalgia that the Halovian liquor had sparked when he’d met Moira for the first time. “Once we were done being useful, we were eaten.” He says of the fodder comment, which truly explains a lot about himself given the upbringing he had. It also proves that he’d never known his father, but that’s a story for later. Or another day. Whichever.
“That isn’t necessary, darling.” He hums, shifting to prop himself up a bit higher, chasing after the warm breaths that leave the Maverick’s lips. “Here it is… Like a comforting middle ground. Loud enough to remind me of the Climb yet the fire crackles loud enough to dampen the sound in turn.” The best of both worlds, of course. An answer that’s sealed with the way he leans in to capture another brief kiss from the blonde, fingers tugging on tousled golden strands, before he pulls away and pins the Theocrat with a wickedly amused glint of mischief in his dark eyes. “Did you know that Astaroth isn’t even my real name?” He asks on a whisper of amusement.
But nostalgia overcomes Astaroth in a way that he’d typically never allow – so the Maverick is fortunate in being able to see this side of him, not without the panic induced nostalgia that the Halovian liquor had sparked when he’d met Moira for the first time. “Once we were done being useful, we were eaten.” He says of the fodder comment, which truly explains a lot about himself given the upbringing he had. It also proves that he’d never known his father, but that’s a story for later. Or another day. Whichever.
“That isn’t necessary, darling.” He hums, shifting to prop himself up a bit higher, chasing after the warm breaths that leave the Maverick’s lips. “Here it is… Like a comforting middle ground. Loud enough to remind me of the Climb yet the fire crackles loud enough to dampen the sound in turn.” The best of both worlds, of course. An answer that’s sealed with the way he leans in to capture another brief kiss from the blonde, fingers tugging on tousled golden strands, before he pulls away and pins the Theocrat with a wickedly amused glint of mischief in his dark eyes. “Did you know that Astaroth isn’t even my real name?” He asks on a whisper of amusement.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
