we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within
let your desire be simply acquired within, within
Snorting to hear Danta’s response, the butcher doesn’t hide his grin as it grows on his face. He’s content to let that thought die as he notices Danta’s interest in the space, and so he lets him take in as much as he could. The air in here is smoky but warm, at odds with outside – and if Danta had already experienced how cold Halo could get (before turning into stone), then he certainly had an idea of what it was like outside.
“Whether you did or did not do it right, I would still enjoy you taking a chunk out of her.” He boasts as his arm wormed around his side, bringing in more warmth and connection, something its very clear Asta got none of within the confines of this home. It was solely for him, used half of the time when he wasn’t scouting. But the time he’d spent here certainly left a mark or two, trinkets left behind of blades long since gone and likely ruined over the passing of time.
Nodding as his smile grows softer, the butcher’s content to let Danta inspect it to his hearts content. “If I recall correctly, it was at least two weeks off and on.” Some of it done here in the home and some of it crafted while he was scouting, all focused on one side of it so that the butcher wouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing it to steal it.
Immediately flicking his attention down as soon as Danta pricks himself, not unlike a shark might with the drop of blood in the water, the butcher snorts softly and turns toward him – plucking his hand up to press a soft kiss to the bloodied finger. “In all fairness, I was not called the butcher back then.” He fights the smile that tugs onto his face as he squeezes Danta’s hand a little, his tail flicking contently behind him. “It could have been believable that I would keep them dull. However, I had to use them quite often.” So he’d ensured they were sharp and ready for anything that came his way.
“But... Here, I was nothing more than Ferox the Scout. Good for arrogance and being left alone.” He nearly puffs his chest out playfully with the idea, before he settles with a soft chuckle and withdraws from his lover to head toward his bed, lifting the hand sewn pillow to pluck a sharp and smooth dagger from beneath it, made with bone. Staring down at it for a moment, the butcher turns back toward Danta before sitting on the bed and gesturing for him to come closer. “This one I kept on my person and under my pillow when I slept.” The longer they spend here, the more that the butcher's carefully crafted accent begins to slip, edging closer into the grittier nature of Ferox.
“Whether you did or did not do it right, I would still enjoy you taking a chunk out of her.” He boasts as his arm wormed around his side, bringing in more warmth and connection, something its very clear Asta got none of within the confines of this home. It was solely for him, used half of the time when he wasn’t scouting. But the time he’d spent here certainly left a mark or two, trinkets left behind of blades long since gone and likely ruined over the passing of time.
Nodding as his smile grows softer, the butcher’s content to let Danta inspect it to his hearts content. “If I recall correctly, it was at least two weeks off and on.” Some of it done here in the home and some of it crafted while he was scouting, all focused on one side of it so that the butcher wouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing it to steal it.
Immediately flicking his attention down as soon as Danta pricks himself, not unlike a shark might with the drop of blood in the water, the butcher snorts softly and turns toward him – plucking his hand up to press a soft kiss to the bloodied finger. “In all fairness, I was not called the butcher back then.” He fights the smile that tugs onto his face as he squeezes Danta’s hand a little, his tail flicking contently behind him. “It could have been believable that I would keep them dull. However, I had to use them quite often.” So he’d ensured they were sharp and ready for anything that came his way.
“But... Here, I was nothing more than Ferox the Scout. Good for arrogance and being left alone.” He nearly puffs his chest out playfully with the idea, before he settles with a soft chuckle and withdraws from his lover to head toward his bed, lifting the hand sewn pillow to pluck a sharp and smooth dagger from beneath it, made with bone. Staring down at it for a moment, the butcher turns back toward Danta before sitting on the bed and gesturing for him to come closer. “This one I kept on my person and under my pillow when I slept.” The longer they spend here, the more that the butcher's carefully crafted accent begins to slip, edging closer into the grittier nature of Ferox.
Astaroth
if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap
