// we haven't won, and if we win, //
“I absolutely am.” Comes the soft hum of Astaroth’s voice, capping the canteen off and simply sitting there to enjoy it a few moments longer before he has to set the canteen back toward where they would remember to take it. He sounds so much more at peace, his tone softer and almost sleepy, before his dark gaze finds Danta starting to remove his own clothes. “She would prefer us enjoy both, wouldn’t you agree?” He asks, raising a dark brow and unabashedly watching as the Maverick prowls around the edge, taking in each and every curve and sharp jut of his body, the scars that remain along pale skin.
It isn’t until Danta’s crouching that Astaroth moves, wading closer to the edge to set the canteen down where it wouldn’t be lost, before he’s standing before the Maverick, dripping blood from each of the recesses each of his own scars has trapped. “I remember you were forced to sit there and watch.” Astaroth says with a hum of sadness in his tone, reaching out with bloodied hands to tug him up and toward him, marring that pristine skin with handprints of scarlet.
Starting to walk Danta back into the water with him, Astaroth’s grin returns, the sharpness invading the haze of content he feels. “Fuck them and fuck that." A drop of venom in his voice at odds with the relaxed state of his shoulders and body. "Come. Be frivolous with me.” This is softer, a hint of a plea in the tone of his voice he doesn’t shy away from for once, not as his olive skin, dyed red by the blood, makes it seems as if he’s been reborn.
It isn’t until Danta’s crouching that Astaroth moves, wading closer to the edge to set the canteen down where it wouldn’t be lost, before he’s standing before the Maverick, dripping blood from each of the recesses each of his own scars has trapped. “I remember you were forced to sit there and watch.” Astaroth says with a hum of sadness in his tone, reaching out with bloodied hands to tug him up and toward him, marring that pristine skin with handprints of scarlet.
Starting to walk Danta back into the water with him, Astaroth’s grin returns, the sharpness invading the haze of content he feels. “Fuck them and fuck that." A drop of venom in his voice at odds with the relaxed state of his shoulders and body. "Come. Be frivolous with me.” This is softer, a hint of a plea in the tone of his voice he doesn’t shy away from for once, not as his olive skin, dyed red by the blood, makes it seems as if he’s been reborn.
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
