so what, my friend, whatever will it be?
i can give you what you crave, just not for free
i can give you what you crave, just not for free
It’s a yin-yang place they find themselves as the nap turns into a deepening slumber – one that has the sun shifting position enough in the sky that the parasol hardly stands to do anything. And Astaroth, having had his head resting on his fist, is now soaking up the warmth from the sun, half bent against the other man who’s head is still essentially in his lap – leaving his own horned head in the sand closer to Danta’s thigh. Luckily for him, the book had already been marked so they hadn’t lost their place, and as the Maverick stretches out, it rouses the butcher from his sleep.
Sun casts against the oil slick of his horns and he immediately shifts a little to yawn – his tail tightening momentarily around Danta’s body with a slight tremble like he’s also getting that good stretch in. After a few moments, though, he shifts up, resting on an elbow and squinting along the sand for his sunglasses that had miraculously fallen off while he also dozed. “I kept our place.” He says through a voice made thick with sleep and his accent – a touch more whitebrim before he straightens up again, trying to brush the grains of sand from his beard and cheek. “I seem to have also fallen asleep.” He admits with yet another yawn, straightening up slightly to try and hide behind the cover of the parasol once more and reaching out for Danta to pull him closer and out of sunburn territory. And to selfishly chase that sage and citrus scent that had chased him into his blissfully uneventful dream.
Sun casts against the oil slick of his horns and he immediately shifts a little to yawn – his tail tightening momentarily around Danta’s body with a slight tremble like he’s also getting that good stretch in. After a few moments, though, he shifts up, resting on an elbow and squinting along the sand for his sunglasses that had miraculously fallen off while he also dozed. “I kept our place.” He says through a voice made thick with sleep and his accent – a touch more whitebrim before he straightens up again, trying to brush the grains of sand from his beard and cheek. “I seem to have also fallen asleep.” He admits with yet another yawn, straightening up slightly to try and hide behind the cover of the parasol once more and reaching out for Danta to pull him closer and out of sunburn territory. And to selfishly chase that sage and citrus scent that had chased him into his blissfully uneventful dream.
Astaroth
you know what's on the line
