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
As Danta mentions the idea of randomly gifting her things without any explanation, the butcher nods a touch more eagerly. It made more sense to do it that way, at least then she could come up with any multitude of reasonings for it to be given rather than what the obvious one was. “Much better, darling. And I am glad, too.” It meant that Torchline could still be visited, that they could still be a part of her guild, that they’d have one hell of a strong friend at their backs should they ever need one.
But then, he’s suddenly ushered backwards and his mind takes a few seconds to catch up to hear what Danta says — subconsciously bringing the fire back up to a merry warmth as the surprise crosses his face, briefly, the butcher’s calves hit the bed and he sinks down so as to not completely fall backwards and take the Maverick with him. “That is probably true.” He admits with a soft huff as he settles onto the bed, peering up at Danta with mischief and happiness dancing in the honey dark of his eyes.
His hands loosen around Danta, making it easier for the blonde to unbutton the suit jacket and slip it over his shoulders. He shrugs out of it, reaching up shortly after to slip off the loose wine dark shirt that the other Ancient wears, hands craving the warmth of his scarred pale skin.
But then, he’s suddenly ushered backwards and his mind takes a few seconds to catch up to hear what Danta says — subconsciously bringing the fire back up to a merry warmth as the surprise crosses his face, briefly, the butcher’s calves hit the bed and he sinks down so as to not completely fall backwards and take the Maverick with him. “That is probably true.” He admits with a soft huff as he settles onto the bed, peering up at Danta with mischief and happiness dancing in the honey dark of his eyes.
His hands loosen around Danta, making it easier for the blonde to unbutton the suit jacket and slip it over his shoulders. He shrugs out of it, reaching up shortly after to slip off the loose wine dark shirt that the other Ancient wears, hands craving the warmth of his scarred pale skin.
Astaroth
say your prayers now
