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?
The clack of the beak sparks another glance, but when it’s clear that Danta isn’t moving from his position (even if he spots the occasional feather fall and it captures his attention with a sharp lurch of his gut, nothing happens). It gives him time to focus on the companion darting around the room, chasing peanut after peanut. It’s almost mesmerizing, and this close he actually can spot the differences between the traditional crow and the gore crow. And somehow, it helps, because Moira becomes far less frightening to him. First of all, she has eyes that match the hue of her feathers rather than the bloody orbs the gore crows had. Second of all, she’s fucking small and her beak and talons seem less sharp as she runs across the wooden floor.
Content with this, he does toss her a few more peanuts to watch her chase around before he finds himself standing, swallowing now that he’s had sober, focused, silent moments to catalogue the differences. Nowhere is he perfect, obviously, but he does find himself able to approach Danta. He continues with the mantra while his lover sleeps in his shift, tucked in under his wing, and he’s quiet and curious as he fights the tightening of his heart as he snags one of those feathers that’s escaped, running his fingers over it in slow motions as he peers down at the gore crow on the shoulder of the mannequin.
And then, with another long and slow inhale, he keeps the feather in one hand and reaches up with a trembling hand, letting two fingers brush along Danta’s back, feeling their softness just as he was so curious about.
Content with this, he does toss her a few more peanuts to watch her chase around before he finds himself standing, swallowing now that he’s had sober, focused, silent moments to catalogue the differences. Nowhere is he perfect, obviously, but he does find himself able to approach Danta. He continues with the mantra while his lover sleeps in his shift, tucked in under his wing, and he’s quiet and curious as he fights the tightening of his heart as he snags one of those feathers that’s escaped, running his fingers over it in slow motions as he peers down at the gore crow on the shoulder of the mannequin.
And then, with another long and slow inhale, he keeps the feather in one hand and reaches up with a trembling hand, letting two fingers brush along Danta’s back, feeling their softness just as he was so curious about.
Astaroth
come a little closer
