// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //
With Danta getting things ready, Astaroth has a few moments of focusing on peeling himself out of the bed, of the promise of curling up with the Maverick on the windowsill to look at whatever might interest them at the moment. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen the view out of the window from up here – not with how Danta had covered most of the space from the typical vantage points he was used to being at within this room, that when the full bay window comes into view after ducking around a few bits and pieces – the butcher is captivated.
Letting Danta settle in first against the windowsill, the butcher peels the blanket off of his shoulders temporarily so that he might be able to slip out of the still open waistcoat, letting it fall and crumple to the ground before he’s slipping into the space provided by the Maverick. “It’s good.” He hums quietly, situating himself and utilizing the distraction of getting the weighted blanket just right around his shoulders but with his bare back pressed against the plush warmth of the oversized sweater Danta wears. He settles in and presses his head into the crook of Danta’s shoulder, letting his dark gaze take in the sights below, lingering on a particular magic user that’s making fire look like little fireworks.
“Can they see us?” He asks suddenly and quietly, though the weight of his body and how he’s essentially collapsed into Danta’s arms seems to suggest he doesn’t care – that it’s mere curiosity at this point, choosing the comfort of Danta’s embrace and the safety of it over whether or not they’re witnessed.
Like it really matters in the long run, anyway.
Letting Danta settle in first against the windowsill, the butcher peels the blanket off of his shoulders temporarily so that he might be able to slip out of the still open waistcoat, letting it fall and crumple to the ground before he’s slipping into the space provided by the Maverick. “It’s good.” He hums quietly, situating himself and utilizing the distraction of getting the weighted blanket just right around his shoulders but with his bare back pressed against the plush warmth of the oversized sweater Danta wears. He settles in and presses his head into the crook of Danta’s shoulder, letting his dark gaze take in the sights below, lingering on a particular magic user that’s making fire look like little fireworks.
“Can they see us?” He asks suddenly and quietly, though the weight of his body and how he’s essentially collapsed into Danta’s arms seems to suggest he doesn’t care – that it’s mere curiosity at this point, choosing the comfort of Danta’s embrace and the safety of it over whether or not they’re witnessed.
Like it really matters in the long run, anyway.
Astaroth
// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //
