the evidence is on my body
but I never complain
but I never complain
Blissfully unaware, it takes less than a second for Danta to move and the crows to grow bold for Asta to break through the alcoholic slumber to wake up. And of course, by this time, the circle of fire has warded off a few of the corvids. All but one, which remains in the circle, directly by the butcher’s face, squawking a very loud and grotesque caw at the time Asta opens his eyes.
He recoils hard enough that he presses back into Danta sharply, his gasp of surprise sucking into his chest and locking there. The crow’s wings flare as the fire burns its tail feathers, another screech of a sound before it launches up and out of the circle, and as Asta presses back further into the warmth of Danta despite not realizing it, his hands lift, out of the fur blanket and wreathed in fire.
The crow rises from the center of the fire into the black of the night, but the fire begins to rotate glimpses of what look like moving stars, circling like a vortex above them, dozens of more crows suddenly cawing and croaking into the dark of night.
Without realizing it until after the tang of blood is in the air, the butcher grunts with the sound of pain, trembling hard, a knife from his hand clatters to the volcanic surface of Angel’s End and blood bubbles from his palm, the singular crow begins to drop suddenly, barreling down toward them.
He recoils hard enough that he presses back into Danta sharply, his gasp of surprise sucking into his chest and locking there. The crow’s wings flare as the fire burns its tail feathers, another screech of a sound before it launches up and out of the circle, and as Asta presses back further into the warmth of Danta despite not realizing it, his hands lift, out of the fur blanket and wreathed in fire.
The crow rises from the center of the fire into the black of the night, but the fire begins to rotate glimpses of what look like moving stars, circling like a vortex above them, dozens of more crows suddenly cawing and croaking into the dark of night.
Without realizing it until after the tang of blood is in the air, the butcher grunts with the sound of pain, trembling hard, a knife from his hand clatters to the volcanic surface of Angel’s End and blood bubbles from his palm, the singular crow begins to drop suddenly, barreling down toward them.
Astaroth
i wear it as a lesson, a curse, and a blessing
