you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
Oh he does feel the curve of the grin, and he elects to ignore it until Danta’s mischief is heavy in his voice and the butcher already regrets bringing it up. “I let my thirty ninth pass without so much of a comment.” He drawls as if it had entirely been his intention to do the very same for this one, too. It was just a day like anything else. He wasn’t about to change that (himself, at least). “Deepfrost. A few days before LongNight, if you must know the specifics.” Because he knows Danta would want nothing more than to know the exact date if he could, even if Astaroth is already dreading it.
Nuzzling into the press of Danta’s lips to his temple and his cheek, he huffs a soft laugh and squeezes the other Ancient a bit closer. “I have had these longer, at least.” His teeth — the coming of age ceremony for Whitebrim at the time of his particular sect of cannibals. “I think I would actually die if my teeth were normal.” He announces, dropping back into full dramatics, voice dropping into the whine of even having to think about such a thing.
He’s careful to not trace his teeth with his tongue despite wanting to, if only so he doesn’t slice his already sore tongue.
Nuzzling into the press of Danta’s lips to his temple and his cheek, he huffs a soft laugh and squeezes the other Ancient a bit closer. “I have had these longer, at least.” His teeth — the coming of age ceremony for Whitebrim at the time of his particular sect of cannibals. “I think I would actually die if my teeth were normal.” He announces, dropping back into full dramatics, voice dropping into the whine of even having to think about such a thing.
He’s careful to not trace his teeth with his tongue despite wanting to, if only so he doesn’t slice his already sore tongue.
Astaroth
fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart
