lord help anyone who stands in my way; for I am not merciful, and i am not kind
and i am not afraid to make you wish that i was
and i am not afraid to make you wish that i was
“I tend to prefer my sailors rare, darling.” Comes the quick admission, while he starts the impulsive thought process of sticking his hand into the flame. And he does, once he’s grounded himself, his other hand curling into the back of Danta’s wine dark shirt, uncaring what thoughts anyone around might have or be thinking of when it comes to the two of them.
The fire singes the cuff of his shirt, catching on the threads in a small blue flame that starts to smoke, and the butcher’s grin widens as it catches further. Removing his hand and watching the heat of it affect the view above it, the butcher manipulates the flame to extinguish it from his clothes and to snag the ribbon of it to let it dance in the air. “I’ll be careful,” he playfully drawls, sending the ribbon of fire over to caress Danta’s cheek. “See?” He hums, careful enough not to burn Danta’s clothing but to let the warmth tickle along his skin.
The fire singes the cuff of his shirt, catching on the threads in a small blue flame that starts to smoke, and the butcher’s grin widens as it catches further. Removing his hand and watching the heat of it affect the view above it, the butcher manipulates the flame to extinguish it from his clothes and to snag the ribbon of it to let it dance in the air. “I’ll be careful,” he playfully drawls, sending the ribbon of fire over to caress Danta’s cheek. “See?” He hums, careful enough not to burn Danta’s clothing but to let the warmth tickle along his skin.
Astaroth
say your prayers now
