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
The last of the stairs is the only thing preventing them from never having to leave the room again, and the excitement of such a prospect has the butcher a touch too eager. But he’s careful to not rush him, he only seems to relax the second they’re in their room. Letting Danta step in and shed his cloak, the butcher shuts the door behind them, leaving it unlocked for when the bartender shows later.
Letting the licks of flame disappear from Danta when he steps away, the roar of their beautiful fireplace soothes him as he sheds the cloak as well, setting it off to the side before he sets the basket down, careful to not jostle his shoulder too much. He doesn’t hide the winces and the slight furrow to his brow, however.
“It’s too fuckin’ cold.” He admits with a sigh, plucking a few things from the basket and drifting toward the tea kettle, setting it onto the heat to get the water warm, before he finally finishes his rounds with appearing in front of Danta, sinking down before him onto the short coffee table that sits in front of the sofa. Bracing his good arm’s elbow on his leg, he holds up the pill bottles for him to peruse which he might want. “Tea is on the fire. Do you need anything else?” Blunt and to the point, his dark gaze focuses up at his lover, something cold and hidden in the dark of his eyes.
Letting the licks of flame disappear from Danta when he steps away, the roar of their beautiful fireplace soothes him as he sheds the cloak as well, setting it off to the side before he sets the basket down, careful to not jostle his shoulder too much. He doesn’t hide the winces and the slight furrow to his brow, however.
“It’s too fuckin’ cold.” He admits with a sigh, plucking a few things from the basket and drifting toward the tea kettle, setting it onto the heat to get the water warm, before he finally finishes his rounds with appearing in front of Danta, sinking down before him onto the short coffee table that sits in front of the sofa. Bracing his good arm’s elbow on his leg, he holds up the pill bottles for him to peruse which he might want. “Tea is on the fire. Do you need anything else?” Blunt and to the point, his dark gaze focuses up at his lover, something cold and hidden in the dark of his eyes.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
