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?
“I suppose it is a good thing we have fire magic now, mm?” He drawls, despite knowing Danta’s comment is a very real worry. He pays it little more thought than just sparking a flame between his fingers and wreathing himself in it once they get there. For now, though, he rips the antlers off of the stag’s skull, collecting them in one hand as he twists back toward Danta with a tired lilt to his smile.
Despite wanting to wind his arm around the blonde, he avoids it given how messy he still is — walking companionably beside him as they drift down the deer path toward the Oasis. The closer they get, he hears the offer from Danta right in time for him to spark that flame — avoiding his clothes as he lets it flicker against his face, ridding it of the majority of the blood, flaking to ash until it vanishes. “You are so kind to me.” He purrs softly, setting the antlers to the side of the water’s edge before he turns toward the blonde, unbuttoning his shirt as he leans in for a chaste kiss, ensuring he doesn’t get Danta too dirty.
He withdraws too quickly, shedding out of his clothes before he turns to step in, blood smattering along his chest and along his sides, over the tops of his shoulders, dried and stained against his bronzed skin. Cool water reaches his legs first, before fire falls from his hands in a blanket of sorts, draping against the water to heat it.
Despite wanting to wind his arm around the blonde, he avoids it given how messy he still is — walking companionably beside him as they drift down the deer path toward the Oasis. The closer they get, he hears the offer from Danta right in time for him to spark that flame — avoiding his clothes as he lets it flicker against his face, ridding it of the majority of the blood, flaking to ash until it vanishes. “You are so kind to me.” He purrs softly, setting the antlers to the side of the water’s edge before he turns toward the blonde, unbuttoning his shirt as he leans in for a chaste kiss, ensuring he doesn’t get Danta too dirty.
He withdraws too quickly, shedding out of his clothes before he turns to step in, blood smattering along his chest and along his sides, over the tops of his shoulders, dried and stained against his bronzed skin. Cool water reaches his legs first, before fire falls from his hands in a blanket of sorts, draping against the water to heat it.
Astaroth
come a little closer
