// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
She’ll feel the chuckle before she hears it as it rises from his chest, away from the rough gnarled scar tissue adorning his skin like crocodile armor. “Complete with karaoke?” He murmurs, adding into the jest. It doesn’t pull him away from her, though, if anything it keeps him just as close as her arms slip around him, the warmth of her palms against the scar tissue in his back – a barely there whisper of what he’s sure would be such a soft caress if he could actually feel it.
At least he has a good imagination.
Their eyes meet, the moonlight reflected in her own like the world sat within the pools of blue he finds there as she compliments him still, his lips quirking into a small smile as she rests her chin on his chest and his arms slip around her a touch easier. “They do call me the butcher for a reason..” He whispers, as if it were a secret and not something that others had known already.
But he spots the sly gleam before her words follow it up, snorting before he sighs and slumps a little – which only serves to pull her in against him tighter beneath the blanket, radiating the warmth between them with nothing but the waves and ship beneath them. “Unfortunately. It seems she told Thalassa of my preferences.” Rolling his eyes again, he huffs a little. “Despite the fact that she still wishes to apologize.” His hand lifts from her back to the nape of her neck, threading fingers through the blonde sea-salt curls. “But I shall not dwell on it, lest it make me bad company.” Comes the soft little apology, muting it for the moment.
“What are your plans after this? Might I convince you to come back to the Dusklight with me when we return?” The butcher offers, dark eyes dropping down to watch her for her reaction.
At least he has a good imagination.
Their eyes meet, the moonlight reflected in her own like the world sat within the pools of blue he finds there as she compliments him still, his lips quirking into a small smile as she rests her chin on his chest and his arms slip around her a touch easier. “They do call me the butcher for a reason..” He whispers, as if it were a secret and not something that others had known already.
But he spots the sly gleam before her words follow it up, snorting before he sighs and slumps a little – which only serves to pull her in against him tighter beneath the blanket, radiating the warmth between them with nothing but the waves and ship beneath them. “Unfortunately. It seems she told Thalassa of my preferences.” Rolling his eyes again, he huffs a little. “Despite the fact that she still wishes to apologize.” His hand lifts from her back to the nape of her neck, threading fingers through the blonde sea-salt curls. “But I shall not dwell on it, lest it make me bad company.” Comes the soft little apology, muting it for the moment.
“What are your plans after this? Might I convince you to come back to the Dusklight with me when we return?” The butcher offers, dark eyes dropping down to watch her for her reaction.
Astaroth
// and i'll paint it red //
