and you'll wake up all alone, on an old beat-down dirt country road
and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
“Oh, of course. Let me check my journal that dictates just what kind of chaos I shall be every given day.” Like he suddenly picked up bullet journaling and somewhere in the middle had the Ancient equivalent of a mood tracker. It’s all said in jest, though, the low chuckle leaving him as he thinks about it (he does have a journal, as it turns out, but it’s mostly just to keep track of Danta’s bloodlust, lest it get out of hand).
His amusement is postponed momentarily as he sips from the glass and his hand squeezes his lover’s leg gently in appreciation for the mercy granted to make it easier to down the Pina colada, feeling the ghost of Danta’s hand still trailing past the pink lines under his waistcoat. He withdraws just in time to make a face, nose wrinkling as his dark gaze flits to Danta’s. “Disgusting.” The butcher notes - not the cocktail, the Pina colada was fantastic.
But to wake up as half a statue? No thank you. Maybe they should mention to Flora just how to wake them should it happen just in case.
Luckily, the immediate sourness of his face softens to feel Danta’s face press in against his neck and his side, his arm squeezing tightly around his lover’s shoulders to keep him just as close as he inclines his horned head enough to press his cheek to the side of his face. “You are making it very difficult to stay awake.” He complains softly, though everything in his body language seems to suggest he’d not have it any other way.
His amusement is postponed momentarily as he sips from the glass and his hand squeezes his lover’s leg gently in appreciation for the mercy granted to make it easier to down the Pina colada, feeling the ghost of Danta’s hand still trailing past the pink lines under his waistcoat. He withdraws just in time to make a face, nose wrinkling as his dark gaze flits to Danta’s. “Disgusting.” The butcher notes - not the cocktail, the Pina colada was fantastic.
But to wake up as half a statue? No thank you. Maybe they should mention to Flora just how to wake them should it happen just in case.
Luckily, the immediate sourness of his face softens to feel Danta’s face press in against his neck and his side, his arm squeezing tightly around his lover’s shoulders to keep him just as close as he inclines his horned head enough to press his cheek to the side of his face. “You are making it very difficult to stay awake.” He complains softly, though everything in his body language seems to suggest he’d not have it any other way.
Astaroth
'cause there ain't no other place to go
