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
It’s growth in their relationship, the fact that they can be this close to one another without burning or snapping at the other, sharing these deep secrets with the comfort that it wouldn’t slip out again past their lips. It was nice in the way that Asta hasn’t had for some time, at least not with someone who hadn’t been around to see the transformation as Danta had been (partially).
She’s tense when he first moves, but he can feel the ripples of her relaxing, his shoulder offering a bit of a personal warmth through the wet fabric that helps with the blooming orb he’s conjured that continues to warp and spin around in front of them, drying their clothes somewhat.
Flashing her an amused yet soft smile, toothy enough to glint the fangs in his mouth, he nods. “That is the consensus.” He’s realized lately, between her and Danta, even if it was an indicator that he wasn’t fully right with how easily he slipped into it when inebriated or slipping back into old ways because it was easier to compartmentalize the overwhelm if he wasn’t always his uptight self.
The smile breaks into a dramatic roll of his eyes as a deep chuckle escapes him. “Yeah?” His voice drips with the accent this time, finding it amusing for the moment to unleash it as she asks her question and leans her head against the allogator as Astaroth sinks down a little to do the same (and silently curses his too long torso). “It’s the name my founders gave me. I couldn’t speak when they took me to see Dygra, so.” A free hand lifts to rub at his chest that hides bark like scar tissue. “They picked a name and when She saved me, I was more than happy to leave the old me behind.” He murmurs.
The hand on his chest flattens for a moment as he thinks, eventually turning a bit toward her to extend his hand between them for a handshake and an amused smile on his face as he lets his accent fully drip. “Nice to meet you Lassie. I’m Ferox.” Comes the playful tease, the charming wink, his voice rough and thick and dripping with that Whitebrim tone that seems more akin to rocks scraping together than the eloquent purr of his usual tone, but with a very clear glint of playfulness that she could push him away or smack him if she wanted to.
She’s tense when he first moves, but he can feel the ripples of her relaxing, his shoulder offering a bit of a personal warmth through the wet fabric that helps with the blooming orb he’s conjured that continues to warp and spin around in front of them, drying their clothes somewhat.
Flashing her an amused yet soft smile, toothy enough to glint the fangs in his mouth, he nods. “That is the consensus.” He’s realized lately, between her and Danta, even if it was an indicator that he wasn’t fully right with how easily he slipped into it when inebriated or slipping back into old ways because it was easier to compartmentalize the overwhelm if he wasn’t always his uptight self.
The smile breaks into a dramatic roll of his eyes as a deep chuckle escapes him. “Yeah?” His voice drips with the accent this time, finding it amusing for the moment to unleash it as she asks her question and leans her head against the allogator as Astaroth sinks down a little to do the same (and silently curses his too long torso). “It’s the name my founders gave me. I couldn’t speak when they took me to see Dygra, so.” A free hand lifts to rub at his chest that hides bark like scar tissue. “They picked a name and when She saved me, I was more than happy to leave the old me behind.” He murmurs.
The hand on his chest flattens for a moment as he thinks, eventually turning a bit toward her to extend his hand between them for a handshake and an amused smile on his face as he lets his accent fully drip. “Nice to meet you Lassie. I’m Ferox.” Comes the playful tease, the charming wink, his voice rough and thick and dripping with that Whitebrim tone that seems more akin to rocks scraping together than the eloquent purr of his usual tone, but with a very clear glint of playfulness that she could push him away or smack him if she wanted to.
Astaroth
fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart
