// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
Danta can be as good or as terrible of a passenger as he wants – the butcher finds he cares very little. But he does realize he needs a nap and while Asta hadn’t been as exhausted from this trek – given that it wasn’t his bloodlust they’d sated – that a nap on the way home meant that Danta wouldn’t be so dead to the world when he got them back into their room. So he continues the idle little scritches until Danta doesn’t seem to move much more, sapped of his energy and sunk into a slumber that the butcher uses to focus on getting them back toward home.
The Brambles are still dark and it’s a fairly long trek, but he’s managed to get out of the thick of it by the time he feels the shift of Danta in between his jacket and chest. His feet are steady as they follow the well worn wagon pathway toward home and he doesn’t quite acknowledge Danta until the clack of his beak drags his attention down.
“Goodmorning, darling.” He hums playfully, because it’s got to be the early morning by now, judging by the pathway of the moon. “Are you feeling better?” He hums softly, reaching up to brush a finger along the length of Danta’s beak before dragging it through the feathers around his head and neck.
The Brambles are still dark and it’s a fairly long trek, but he’s managed to get out of the thick of it by the time he feels the shift of Danta in between his jacket and chest. His feet are steady as they follow the well worn wagon pathway toward home and he doesn’t quite acknowledge Danta until the clack of his beak drags his attention down.
“Goodmorning, darling.” He hums playfully, because it’s got to be the early morning by now, judging by the pathway of the moon. “Are you feeling better?” He hums softly, reaching up to brush a finger along the length of Danta’s beak before dragging it through the feathers around his head and neck.
Astaroth
// and i'll paint it red //
