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
The bone that makes up the bridges to get here comes into view, sun bleached and bright against the greenery that surrounds it, and it distracts him enough to not look at Danta while he tries to filter his words. He doesn’t get past the point of his lips parting, to hear him suggest if Charlie had advice for it, which — not noticing the way he seems far more reserved than normal. “She certainly does not know. I suggested she might ask our tailor out on a date and she asked me questions.” He says with a huff of a laugh.
It does with the wind, though, and he reaches up to try and brush his hair back behind his horns. “What I mean is that while she is lovely, I worry that she is wanting to change herself to suit me, and I do not know how to tell her that I do not want that?” It feels terrible to say, but it’s true. “The first date was a bargain for help with the wicker woman, and yet the second one was me attempting to make sure all was right when I nearly tore her shoulder on the first one.” Sighing and stepping onto the bone bridge to guide the way, hoping that perhaps there’s an inn nearby they might be able to snatch before the rain sets in, the butcher — careless of the mark that’s visible — glances back toward Danta with a raised brow, his tail waving slowly in his contemplation. “I think she is seeking true romance and I will be unable to provide that.”
It does with the wind, though, and he reaches up to try and brush his hair back behind his horns. “What I mean is that while she is lovely, I worry that she is wanting to change herself to suit me, and I do not know how to tell her that I do not want that?” It feels terrible to say, but it’s true. “The first date was a bargain for help with the wicker woman, and yet the second one was me attempting to make sure all was right when I nearly tore her shoulder on the first one.” Sighing and stepping onto the bone bridge to guide the way, hoping that perhaps there’s an inn nearby they might be able to snatch before the rain sets in, the butcher — careless of the mark that’s visible — glances back toward Danta with a raised brow, his tail waving slowly in his contemplation. “I think she is seeking true romance and I will be unable to provide that.”
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
