Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
The sentiment is correct — and had more of them managed to take the plunge in escaping the ways of their Whitebrim lifestyle, well, he imagines there would be a fair few more of them out and about if not in a stony slumber. But the only answer he can give is a confident hum of agreement before he’s letting the Maverick tackle the nightmare that is his scarring.
He’s confident in the fact that he’ll be fine. It’s confidence that’s entirely unfounded, however.
There’s magic in Dantalion’s fingertips but there’s also fire beneath them that isn’t the comforting kind, that isn’t the kind that sings to the soul of the dark recesses of his heart.
No, this time it’s pain, and it’s with his tail half pinned beneath Danta that the spaded tip lashes against the sheets that he tries to be quite brave about it. “I will.” He says muffled, face tilting into the bed again. It’s enough that the smile falters, hidden away by rogue strands of black hair.
He’s confident in the fact that he’ll be fine. It’s confidence that’s entirely unfounded, however.
There’s magic in Dantalion’s fingertips but there’s also fire beneath them that isn’t the comforting kind, that isn’t the kind that sings to the soul of the dark recesses of his heart.
No, this time it’s pain, and it’s with his tail half pinned beneath Danta that the spaded tip lashes against the sheets that he tries to be quite brave about it. “I will.” He says muffled, face tilting into the bed again. It’s enough that the smile falters, hidden away by rogue strands of black hair.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
