// we haven't won, and if we win, //
It’s true, the Maverick wouldn’t lie about something like that – which means that the next words that fall from his lips have an almost hungry grin blossoming across his face. “Beautiful.” Astaroth purrs on a dark hum of a heavier accented voice. But then, Danta is bumping his shoulder back against his and he tilts his head toward the blonde as they continue to walk, unaware of the glances made toward the suspenders he wears despite how his eyes keep drifting back to try and meet those electric blues surrounded by kohl.
“Of course I do, darling.” Astaroth says without a heartbeat of a second passing to question it. He’d been in it before not that long ago, as a lial, but this time something tells him he might prefer the feel of the thick liquid against his skin, staining and blooming dried patchworks of iron into the olive tones of his body.
His steps pick up the pace too, as it turns out, ducking lower than Danta to try and avoid the outcrop as well, turning the corner toward the water as the scent and the echoed thunder of the waterfall nearly drowns out their voices initially before he focuses on listening to hear Danta’s crooning voice. “Towels, Danta.” He says with a roll of his eyes, playfully exasperated as he steps forward toward it, already lowering the bag from his shoulder to start to drop the suspenders so that they hang around his waist, getting more and more comfortable as he takes a long, deep inhale of the scent. As he does so and walks a small fraction ahead of Danta, there’s the glint of something in his back pocket, a bulge of sorts that shouldn’t be there. “I was here not that long ago, bathing in my lial shift. I wish to feel it again.” He seems extra excited with how his tail wags, like a child seeing the Christmas tree and the presents beneath it on Christmas morning.
“Of course I do, darling.” Astaroth says without a heartbeat of a second passing to question it. He’d been in it before not that long ago, as a lial, but this time something tells him he might prefer the feel of the thick liquid against his skin, staining and blooming dried patchworks of iron into the olive tones of his body.
His steps pick up the pace too, as it turns out, ducking lower than Danta to try and avoid the outcrop as well, turning the corner toward the water as the scent and the echoed thunder of the waterfall nearly drowns out their voices initially before he focuses on listening to hear Danta’s crooning voice. “Towels, Danta.” He says with a roll of his eyes, playfully exasperated as he steps forward toward it, already lowering the bag from his shoulder to start to drop the suspenders so that they hang around his waist, getting more and more comfortable as he takes a long, deep inhale of the scent. As he does so and walks a small fraction ahead of Danta, there’s the glint of something in his back pocket, a bulge of sorts that shouldn’t be there. “I was here not that long ago, bathing in my lial shift. I wish to feel it again.” He seems extra excited with how his tail wags, like a child seeing the Christmas tree and the presents beneath it on Christmas morning.
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
