// day breaks sorrow //
Ah, just like that, the mood is ruined. Destroyed in the quiet brimming confidence that Danta has that immediately falters and hides behind the mask the Maverick puts up. The twitch in the dance is enough of an indicator for the start, but it’s the comment after that certainly proves it to him, and his smile shifts toward a frown, apologetic as he can be as he slows the steps more, drawing Danta closer to him, more intimate, more apologetic. “It is.” He admits, a muscle feathering in his jaw as he steps back and pulls Danta with him, then to the side.
“I did not want to surprise you with it.” Which is why he’s telling him now, without the shadows to smile back at him in the dark of their dance. Without the flicker of a skeletal face overcoming the butcher’s appearance. Without the long, arcing antlers that the butcher could grow with an easy command. “You were, after all, the one who saw it utilized the most.” The shame hangs in the rich tones of his voice, without the dissonance of undertones he’d often add for the dramatic flare. His hand squeezes Danta’s gently as he slows them to a stop, the hand at his shoulder dropping to rest above his hip, thumb brushing against the soft slate grey corset, over the embroidery.
“I did not want to surprise you with it.” Which is why he’s telling him now, without the shadows to smile back at him in the dark of their dance. Without the flicker of a skeletal face overcoming the butcher’s appearance. Without the long, arcing antlers that the butcher could grow with an easy command. “You were, after all, the one who saw it utilized the most.” The shame hangs in the rich tones of his voice, without the dissonance of undertones he’d often add for the dramatic flare. His hand squeezes Danta’s gently as he slows them to a stop, the hand at his shoulder dropping to rest above his hip, thumb brushing against the soft slate grey corset, over the embroidery.
Astaroth
// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //
