the evidence is on my body
but I never complain
but I never complain
He is right, though the butcher still remains in that odd moment of babbling too much and yet not, silencing himself with the charred bite of marshmallow, smoky and sweet. He watches the meat sit on the rock, before he collects a small slab of his own, placing it beside Danta’s for sheer formality rather than outright need, glancing over at him with a little too much fragility.
It makes sense, that Danta’s would be an opening from his prison, while the open air was Astaroth’s own prison. And it is a strange mix, adding to the combination of complicated feelings coursing through his chest. “Not even one. I ensured I got out of the Climb before I slept when I scouted.” He says quietly, snagging the meat still half raw and half cooked, biting into the raw bit first.
“I think it’s why I prefer dens. Ours specifically.” He clarifies, leaving out the sappy because you’re there though it’s implied. He draws silent after that, taking each piece of meat and downing it, alternating between it and the marshmallows on occasion, drowning it with the liquor until he feels heavy and night has fully fallen and he’s been too distracted to be distraught at the mixture of marshmallow and meat that Danta had crafted.
The darkness makes him antsy, the tremor occurring back into his hands as he closes in on himself and watches the fire, the cooler air of Angel’s End bringing a brief breeze that has his tail flicking like an annoyed feline’s. “A quarter of the way there..” And the rocks have been blessedly silent, though he knows it won’t last. So he shifts on the bedroll, twisting slightly to put his back to the fire as he goes to lay down, on his side specifically.
It makes sense, that Danta’s would be an opening from his prison, while the open air was Astaroth’s own prison. And it is a strange mix, adding to the combination of complicated feelings coursing through his chest. “Not even one. I ensured I got out of the Climb before I slept when I scouted.” He says quietly, snagging the meat still half raw and half cooked, biting into the raw bit first.
“I think it’s why I prefer dens. Ours specifically.” He clarifies, leaving out the sappy because you’re there though it’s implied. He draws silent after that, taking each piece of meat and downing it, alternating between it and the marshmallows on occasion, drowning it with the liquor until he feels heavy and night has fully fallen and he’s been too distracted to be distraught at the mixture of marshmallow and meat that Danta had crafted.
The darkness makes him antsy, the tremor occurring back into his hands as he closes in on himself and watches the fire, the cooler air of Angel’s End bringing a brief breeze that has his tail flicking like an annoyed feline’s. “A quarter of the way there..” And the rocks have been blessedly silent, though he knows it won’t last. So he shifts on the bedroll, twisting slightly to put his back to the fire as he goes to lay down, on his side specifically.
Astaroth
i wear it as a lesson, a curse, and a blessing
