am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?
“It was insinuated.” The butcher retorts, smirking lightly before it softens into a smile that is soft and gently there against his face as he feeds the Maverick another bite. As for his tension – precisely when not caused by the blonde – he tilts his head a little and nods. “Alright, I will give you that one.” He concedes, more proof to the fact that he is tired and isn’t willing to debate it fervently like he otherwise often would.
Sitting back on his heels, the butcher reaches up with his bloodied hand to brush some bloodslick hair away from his forehead, feeling as bits and pieces have already begun to dry, clinging to him in ways that are both uncomfortable and comfortable. “I am tired.” He admits softly, before he’s pushing himself up slowly from the space beside Danta, careful to not get any blood on him as he steps away toward the stag’s head. “That is what the Glade is for, is it not?” He muses, even as he doesn’t look to the Maverick as he continues his little ritual.
It's with more precision that the butcher deftly removes the antlers from the felled beast, between the slicing and cracking of them and the clacking of the two separate antlers as he goes to carry them in one hand. “Are you ready, darling?” He asks, glancing between the remnants of the stag he fully intends to leave for the rest of the wildlife now that he’s claimed his prize, even after he’s taken the bits and pieces from it to continue to feed Danta should he still want to snack.
Sitting back on his heels, the butcher reaches up with his bloodied hand to brush some bloodslick hair away from his forehead, feeling as bits and pieces have already begun to dry, clinging to him in ways that are both uncomfortable and comfortable. “I am tired.” He admits softly, before he’s pushing himself up slowly from the space beside Danta, careful to not get any blood on him as he steps away toward the stag’s head. “That is what the Glade is for, is it not?” He muses, even as he doesn’t look to the Maverick as he continues his little ritual.
It's with more precision that the butcher deftly removes the antlers from the felled beast, between the slicing and cracking of them and the clacking of the two separate antlers as he goes to carry them in one hand. “Are you ready, darling?” He asks, glancing between the remnants of the stag he fully intends to leave for the rest of the wildlife now that he’s claimed his prize, even after he’s taken the bits and pieces from it to continue to feed Danta should he still want to snack.
Astaroth
come a little closer
