run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
Well, as Danta smooths the tension, Astaroth finally starts to loosen up — embracing the warmth and the explanation offered in regards to the rooms of the House of Midnight. So curious, in fact, that he hates the way it also helps him deflate his otherwise puffy exterior. And by that time, the butcher’s glass is filled up again. “I admit I was never one for the gods before I met Dygra.” Ah, but then she saved his life. And from that point on, the butcher was devoted.
“I, too, have a more canine shift.” He starts, as if extending that olive branch for Sunjata to try and relax some. He remains silent, nursing his glass as Danta explains how he intends for it to work, before he downs the rest of his glass and boldly stakes his claim; tail unwinding from his lover’s leg as he turns toward him, arm tightening a fraction as he aims to snatch a chaste kiss, because all of that liquor has hit hard from the frustration that had blossomed in his chest. “I think I shall get ready for bed. But yes, do let us know if there is anything you require.” He announces, leaving it to Danta to navigate, before he extracts himself from his lover’s embrace and leaves the empty glass on the table.
And he vanishes, only a few feet away, disappearing into the warm dark of their den; listening to any further conversation as he takes in the state of one of his favorite shirts, who’s collar at the back of his neck is peppered with small burns, meticulously ensuring each portion of his vest and ruined shirt are hung. He can assess the damage later.
“I, too, have a more canine shift.” He starts, as if extending that olive branch for Sunjata to try and relax some. He remains silent, nursing his glass as Danta explains how he intends for it to work, before he downs the rest of his glass and boldly stakes his claim; tail unwinding from his lover’s leg as he turns toward him, arm tightening a fraction as he aims to snatch a chaste kiss, because all of that liquor has hit hard from the frustration that had blossomed in his chest. “I think I shall get ready for bed. But yes, do let us know if there is anything you require.” He announces, leaving it to Danta to navigate, before he extracts himself from his lover’s embrace and leaves the empty glass on the table.
And he vanishes, only a few feet away, disappearing into the warm dark of their den; listening to any further conversation as he takes in the state of one of his favorite shirts, who’s collar at the back of his neck is peppered with small burns, meticulously ensuring each portion of his vest and ruined shirt are hung. He can assess the damage later.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
