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
A dark brow lifts in stubborn defiance to Danta’s teasing, even in the face of the fanged grin. He adjusts easily with the way the Theocrat’s arms wind around him, the butcher settling in for letting all etiquette drop from his tongue for the next few moments at the very least, head tilting lightly into the feel of Danta’s face in against his hair. It’s a touch that doesn’t last long as he blinks his dark honeyed gaze to meet the mischievous blues that peer down at him.
The butcher sinks in limply enough that if Danta did want to twist them, he’d find no fight in the cannibal’s attempts to keep them as they are, instead allowing himself to eye Danta suspiciously as if he can gather Danta’s motivations for himself, still debating whether to say it or not. Of course, the hum of his once-moniker strokes that ego of his and he sighs a huff of playful annoyance, tilting his head to where his cheek presses against the other Ancient’s chest, horns dangerously close to knocking against Danta’s nose. “My name was Ferox.” He says stubbornly.
The butcher sinks in limply enough that if Danta did want to twist them, he’d find no fight in the cannibal’s attempts to keep them as they are, instead allowing himself to eye Danta suspiciously as if he can gather Danta’s motivations for himself, still debating whether to say it or not. Of course, the hum of his once-moniker strokes that ego of his and he sighs a huff of playful annoyance, tilting his head to where his cheek presses against the other Ancient’s chest, horns dangerously close to knocking against Danta’s nose. “My name was Ferox.” He says stubbornly.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
