[SWE] The Feast of Bells - 318PC

now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence

Its easy on both of their parts – and relieving for exactly the same reasons. Because given the state of how they ended, the butcher wasn’t sure they’d ever reach this comfortability with one another again – that he could take her out onto the dance floor and put on a show for everyone who deigned to look in their direction and they could part after as nothing more than good friends.

So as she says them? and questions him with amusement in her aqua gaze, his dark honeyed ones are equally as amused as they are mischievous, spinning along the packed floor of the dance floor as they expertly move across it – his hand warm where it presses against her lower back, his other twined easily and effortlessly into her own hand. “Anyone who may be curious, I suppose.” He starts to say, before he’s leaning in toward her ear, in a gesture that to some might seem intimate when he whispers, “I spy a pale Ancient amongst the crowd.”

He withdraws, then, flashing her a brilliantly sharp smile before he spins her again as if giving her a moment to look for herself and brings her back to his chest, his sharp grin effortlessly on display. He doesn’t look away from her, though, giving her his complete attention.

Astaroth

beg me for forgiveness