the evidence is on my body
but I never complain
but I never complain
He remains there as Danta leans in, the scent of blood amongst the mix as his lovers warm lips press against his forehead. His eyes close momentarily before he opens them and focuses on the Maverick’s face in lieu of the area around. There is some amount of relief in the tension already weighing on his shoulders, the butcher spotting the small cut for the first time.
But before he can sluggishly reach up to caress the other man’s jaw, Danta’s moving to grab the pack, withdrawing the bedrolls and a multitude of other elements to try and make it more inviting than his memories were making it. He wants to be strong in this moment, but he stares at the spike in the ground numbly, letting Danta set things up.
The question reaches him belatedly and his tail flicks slightly, bringing him back to life rather than the tense statue he’s becoming. “Yes.” He reaches out, fingertips brushing against the rusted spike, before he latches onto it and yanks. The spike doesn’t come out the first time, and he reaches out with his other hand, fighting with this spike for a brief moment before the piece comes out. He sinks back onto his heels with the spike in his hands, glaring down at it before fire burns white in his palms as he begins to melt it down. “There were two of them.” He murmurs as the metal begins to melt down.
At least it seems like the other spike is gone.
But before he can sluggishly reach up to caress the other man’s jaw, Danta’s moving to grab the pack, withdrawing the bedrolls and a multitude of other elements to try and make it more inviting than his memories were making it. He wants to be strong in this moment, but he stares at the spike in the ground numbly, letting Danta set things up.
The question reaches him belatedly and his tail flicks slightly, bringing him back to life rather than the tense statue he’s becoming. “Yes.” He reaches out, fingertips brushing against the rusted spike, before he latches onto it and yanks. The spike doesn’t come out the first time, and he reaches out with his other hand, fighting with this spike for a brief moment before the piece comes out. He sinks back onto his heels with the spike in his hands, glaring down at it before fire burns white in his palms as he begins to melt it down. “There were two of them.” He murmurs as the metal begins to melt down.
At least it seems like the other spike is gone.
Astaroth
i wear it as a lesson, a curse, and a blessing
