// smile like you mean it //
“Correct.” He informs her, head tilting slightly as he watches her surprise, her enamored state. “I had slumbered in stone for centuries until Danta woke me.” Just to give any emphasis on how old the butcher was, and Danta, if the Queen knew anything about that.
But he doesn’t know how much Danta told her of the time before, knowing that the Maverick had a tendency to keep those things close to his chest.
Watching with his honeyed gaze in the firelight as her head lolls back, the feel of soft curls against him is a noted pleasant feeling. “Well, I suppose you will have to show me, hm?” He asks in a touch softer of a voice but still just as polite. He realizes that he might end up doing quite a bit more swimming than he’d otherwise intended on with his renewed state and new life.
Her head tilts forward, though, closer to his sharp teeth and Asta’s eyes track her curiously — wondering what exactly her motives were. Her answer sparks a snort and a tilt of his own head, up a fraction as his lips part and his tongue runs along the sharp edges in a very particular, well practiced motion to prevent from slicing open his tongue. “My tongue receives most of the trouble. I learned quickly not to bite my lip.” His head tilts back down to her, dark eyes scanning her face and the minimal space. “It was a rite of passage in my youth.” He explains, as opposed to having his adult teeth simply grow like this. “Thankfully, the rest of my scars are easily hidden.”
But he doesn’t know how much Danta told her of the time before, knowing that the Maverick had a tendency to keep those things close to his chest.
Watching with his honeyed gaze in the firelight as her head lolls back, the feel of soft curls against him is a noted pleasant feeling. “Well, I suppose you will have to show me, hm?” He asks in a touch softer of a voice but still just as polite. He realizes that he might end up doing quite a bit more swimming than he’d otherwise intended on with his renewed state and new life.
Her head tilts forward, though, closer to his sharp teeth and Asta’s eyes track her curiously — wondering what exactly her motives were. Her answer sparks a snort and a tilt of his own head, up a fraction as his lips part and his tongue runs along the sharp edges in a very particular, well practiced motion to prevent from slicing open his tongue. “My tongue receives most of the trouble. I learned quickly not to bite my lip.” His head tilts back down to her, dark eyes scanning her face and the minimal space. “It was a rite of passage in my youth.” He explains, as opposed to having his adult teeth simply grow like this. “Thankfully, the rest of my scars are easily hidden.”
Astaroth
// take a chance and you could seize it //
