// with our one foot in the grave //
There are many stray locks that Danta will find in the gentle attention he offers to the butcher. Each one neatly tucked back as Asta’s hands continue to trace along diamond horns with rough spikes, a surprising tenderness and reverence compared to moments before. The words slip from his lips, the question aired between them, and when the Maverick glances away, the butcher’s immediately left with the gut sensation he’s stepped too far. Like if he presses too hard into the question, Danta would flee, nevermind the admissions they’ve all made.
He does notice the curl of his lips in a smile, though, and it keeps him from over speaking and destroying whatever gentle kindness and tenderness they are afforded here in this moment. It’s a snort in return to the nip at his wrist, finding himself uncaring if the blonde chose to draw blood for the fun of it, before Danta’s arms loop around his shoulders and Asta’s own relax enough to drag his thumb along the Maverick’s temple in a slow and gentle touch.
His head drops to Danta’s chest as the vibrant grin blossoms on his face, the pulse of a warm breath of air as he snorts and peers over at the fireplace still raging comfortably. “A week from now, at sunset, meet me inside the Temple.” Twisting so that his chin is propped on Danta’s chest, he aims that too sharp grin at the Maverick, so bright with unbidden excitement that it nearly glows. “Wear something you’re content with getting dirty, mm?”
He does notice the curl of his lips in a smile, though, and it keeps him from over speaking and destroying whatever gentle kindness and tenderness they are afforded here in this moment. It’s a snort in return to the nip at his wrist, finding himself uncaring if the blonde chose to draw blood for the fun of it, before Danta’s arms loop around his shoulders and Asta’s own relax enough to drag his thumb along the Maverick’s temple in a slow and gentle touch.
His head drops to Danta’s chest as the vibrant grin blossoms on his face, the pulse of a warm breath of air as he snorts and peers over at the fireplace still raging comfortably. “A week from now, at sunset, meet me inside the Temple.” Twisting so that his chin is propped on Danta’s chest, he aims that too sharp grin at the Maverick, so bright with unbidden excitement that it nearly glows. “Wear something you’re content with getting dirty, mm?”
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
