// day breaks sorrow //
Snorting to hear Flora’s response, Asta rolls his eyes playfully as his fingers work at a knot in Danta’s shoulder. “I would always talk to you, darling.” He confirms as the Maverick mentions the other reality that would have occurred. And it’s true, snorting softly and lamenting the idea a touch, his chin drops for a moment as he clicks his tongue. “If it were not your night, Flora, I would have had many things to say.” And do, likely, if the bloodlust edge from their rendezvous had anything to say about it.
But that’s beside the point. Instead, the butcher focuses on Jack along with Danta’s sentiments, his head nodding as he flashes a softer smile toward Flora in response. “Or, perhaps you had so many of those around that care for you he realized it was a death wish?” He suggests, letting his honey gaze flit toward Flora with a small shrug. He didn’t know Jack well, but it’s the general vibe he got.
Flora’s gasp has his brows pinching briefly, suddenly wondering just what was happening when he realizes she’s more than willing to indulge in the trio of massages, so the butcher does as Flora tells him to, withdrawing enough to slip out of the waistcoat again, folding it and setting it on the arm of the couch before he settles at the edge of her seat so that she doesn’t have to reach too far. His hair is long enough these days to drape in a small V down his back, and no new scars sit on his back. The only thing of note is the bracelet on his wrist that remains, designed beautifully in corvid feathers and a sheen of lovely scarlet.
His head tilts over his shoulder toward her when she speaks next, almost chastising. At Danta’s answer, the butcher’s attention drifts toward him with a slight wrinkle of his nose, reaching out to continue the massage on his lover’s shoulder that’s closest to him. “Alas I believe that may make the line thinner and shorter.” He admits with a slightly frustrated sigh, but the smile tugged on his face is apologetic all the same.
But that’s beside the point. Instead, the butcher focuses on Jack along with Danta’s sentiments, his head nodding as he flashes a softer smile toward Flora in response. “Or, perhaps you had so many of those around that care for you he realized it was a death wish?” He suggests, letting his honey gaze flit toward Flora with a small shrug. He didn’t know Jack well, but it’s the general vibe he got.
Flora’s gasp has his brows pinching briefly, suddenly wondering just what was happening when he realizes she’s more than willing to indulge in the trio of massages, so the butcher does as Flora tells him to, withdrawing enough to slip out of the waistcoat again, folding it and setting it on the arm of the couch before he settles at the edge of her seat so that she doesn’t have to reach too far. His hair is long enough these days to drape in a small V down his back, and no new scars sit on his back. The only thing of note is the bracelet on his wrist that remains, designed beautifully in corvid feathers and a sheen of lovely scarlet.
His head tilts over his shoulder toward her when she speaks next, almost chastising. At Danta’s answer, the butcher’s attention drifts toward him with a slight wrinkle of his nose, reaching out to continue the massage on his lover’s shoulder that’s closest to him. “Alas I believe that may make the line thinner and shorter.” He admits with a slightly frustrated sigh, but the smile tugged on his face is apologetic all the same.
Astaroth
// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //
