you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
“I shall.” He murmurs softly, playfully, surprisingly content and excited with the idea of sharing a bit more of his secretive side with her. So much so that his own mood seems to improve, relaxed as he is and absolutely a mess between the blood and rain without a single ounce of care for the blood splattered on his face and drenching his beard in iron.
Barking a laugh at the middle finger she tosses up his way, it’s an affectionate roll of his eyes that softens as he returns to his carefree lounge, tail flicking idly beside his leg while he asks his question. Watching her reaction carefully, it’s another one of those you can tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to talk about it, which seems to be the game of the day. Not that he’s complaining. He likes her. Having her as his friend more and more as the seasons pass only seem like an improvement to his life, so he’s happy to share what he can and he’s grateful for her own indulgences to his curiosity in return.
Summoning a small ball of flame to keep them warm, he lets the orb of it hover in front of them, the rogue drops of rain hiss as it hits the orb but begins to warm the space they share. “Do you believe her? Or only partially?” He asks softly, no judgement in his tone as his dark eyes watch her face. He imagines she does to an extent, but how far that went was entirely within her mind.
Barking a laugh at the middle finger she tosses up his way, it’s an affectionate roll of his eyes that softens as he returns to his carefree lounge, tail flicking idly beside his leg while he asks his question. Watching her reaction carefully, it’s another one of those you can tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to talk about it, which seems to be the game of the day. Not that he’s complaining. He likes her. Having her as his friend more and more as the seasons pass only seem like an improvement to his life, so he’s happy to share what he can and he’s grateful for her own indulgences to his curiosity in return.
Summoning a small ball of flame to keep them warm, he lets the orb of it hover in front of them, the rogue drops of rain hiss as it hits the orb but begins to warm the space they share. “Do you believe her? Or only partially?” He asks softly, no judgement in his tone as his dark eyes watch her face. He imagines she does to an extent, but how far that went was entirely within her mind.
Astaroth
fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart
