now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence
won't accept your silence
Too busy staring at the vein on the wall to notice how Danta brushes away the soot, he’s also trying to formulate a plan of attack, head tilting canine-like as he ponders and listens to the options laid out by the Maverick. The idea of lugging stone over in order to make some semblance of steps sounds absolutely exhausting, and given the smirk the blonde has sent his way, he sets the bag down and clears his throat with a soft laugh.
“Will you catch me in a mirror of the apple orchard, should I lose my balance?” He asks, waggling his brows playfully, readjusting the pickaxe on his shoulder. Regardless of what Danta says, he casts a glance back up to the vein in the wall, exhaling a soft sigh and inclining his head. “I am willing to try.” Leaning over toward Danta in order to reach up to gently clasp his jaw and steal another kiss (this time he leaves sooty fingerprints against the sharp jaw of the blonde).
He withdraws and prepares, though, waiting for Danta to give him the boost.
“Will you catch me in a mirror of the apple orchard, should I lose my balance?” He asks, waggling his brows playfully, readjusting the pickaxe on his shoulder. Regardless of what Danta says, he casts a glance back up to the vein in the wall, exhaling a soft sigh and inclining his head. “I am willing to try.” Leaning over toward Danta in order to reach up to gently clasp his jaw and steal another kiss (this time he leaves sooty fingerprints against the sharp jaw of the blonde).
He withdraws and prepares, though, waiting for Danta to give him the boost.
Astaroth
beg me for forgiveness
