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?
If he wasn’t so focused on the true crow approaching, the butcher might have noticed the way Danta’s gotten trapped into the sleeve. He might have even seen the flit of frustration because of it and never let the Maverick live it down. As it stands, though, he misses it completely as he tries to keep his brain power focused on one thing at a time. Regulate his breathing. Ignore his rising heartbeat. Keep the nausea at bay (much easier this time around).
He does look over periodically toward Danta as he moves around the room, though, and only when he’s settled on the mannequin (he reminds himself to thank the gore crow later when his mouth isn’t so dry), does he look back to Moira to toss the peanut. He fully expects her to eat it and when she doesn’t, instead deciding to shoot it across the room and chase after it, the butcher relaxes a fraction. Some warmth comes back into the paleness of his face, and he draws his legs up a little closer as he tosses another one out for her to have two options before he sinks back to watch – content, so long as none are near him.
It's coincidentally this time that he looks over at Danta again, catching that fleeting look. He loves you. He reminds himself when he captures the gaze for a split second. “I’m okay.” Comes the far more Ferrox accent than Astaroth, but it’s true nevertheless. The butcher has ensured he’s remained precisely where he can keep vision on everything around him, testing with two creatures he knows wouldn’t harm a hair on his head. And it does wonders to loosening the ice in his gut.
He does look over periodically toward Danta as he moves around the room, though, and only when he’s settled on the mannequin (he reminds himself to thank the gore crow later when his mouth isn’t so dry), does he look back to Moira to toss the peanut. He fully expects her to eat it and when she doesn’t, instead deciding to shoot it across the room and chase after it, the butcher relaxes a fraction. Some warmth comes back into the paleness of his face, and he draws his legs up a little closer as he tosses another one out for her to have two options before he sinks back to watch – content, so long as none are near him.
It's coincidentally this time that he looks over at Danta again, catching that fleeting look. He loves you. He reminds himself when he captures the gaze for a split second. “I’m okay.” Comes the far more Ferrox accent than Astaroth, but it’s true nevertheless. The butcher has ensured he’s remained precisely where he can keep vision on everything around him, testing with two creatures he knows wouldn’t harm a hair on his head. And it does wonders to loosening the ice in his gut.
Astaroth
come a little closer
