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
It’s a lot. So much so that when Asta finally has a chance to take a breath that isn’t all heady sweat and humidity, he has a moment to wonder if he’s claustrophobic. It isn’t so much that as it is the aversion to being touched that really gets him, as he’ll think about later, with the unknown strangers around that drag them into the fold, bodies pressing up against them in a variety of ways both intentional and not.
Danta, at least, is fully in his element, right on the beat with a flashy shake of his head to set his glamour up, which is a very good idea and one that Asta also indulges in. His horns melt away and his tail no longer a threat, but it does fuck up the long dark strands of his hair into falling whatever way their movements have dictated. “It is a lot.” He responds belatedly, shifting to press his answer into Danta’s cheek.
It’s a gesture that doesn’t last, though, because suddenly his hands are covered by someone else, the intent to pull the Maverick away from him that has him on high alert. There’s no tail now to whip into the crowd, but there are other subtle ways the butcher can work around it. He bites back the snarl for the way he moves deftly and expertly, ignoring the other bodies around him as he zeroes in on the one that has the audacity to think he can get Danta away from him. His hand lingers on Danta’s chest as he swoops around, deftly pressing himself in closer and knocking the stranger away from him. Given the liquor, he can’t tell if their hands tighten around Danta’s hips or not, but the butcher’s hands replace them deftly as he crowds in, flashing a snap of his teeth to the fool before his cheek is pressing in over Danta’s shoulder. “Is everyone this bold?” He asks on the air of a hiss.
Danta, at least, is fully in his element, right on the beat with a flashy shake of his head to set his glamour up, which is a very good idea and one that Asta also indulges in. His horns melt away and his tail no longer a threat, but it does fuck up the long dark strands of his hair into falling whatever way their movements have dictated. “It is a lot.” He responds belatedly, shifting to press his answer into Danta’s cheek.
It’s a gesture that doesn’t last, though, because suddenly his hands are covered by someone else, the intent to pull the Maverick away from him that has him on high alert. There’s no tail now to whip into the crowd, but there are other subtle ways the butcher can work around it. He bites back the snarl for the way he moves deftly and expertly, ignoring the other bodies around him as he zeroes in on the one that has the audacity to think he can get Danta away from him. His hand lingers on Danta’s chest as he swoops around, deftly pressing himself in closer and knocking the stranger away from him. Given the liquor, he can’t tell if their hands tighten around Danta’s hips or not, but the butcher’s hands replace them deftly as he crowds in, flashing a snap of his teeth to the fool before his cheek is pressing in over Danta’s shoulder. “Is everyone this bold?” He asks on the air of a hiss.
Astaroth
'cause there ain't no other place to go
