so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats
It was a rare thing, even back then, for Danta to get such a blow on him. For anyone to, really, because he was smart and resourceful and he didn’t get put into situations like this. But here he is, a complete shift from the past in the hopes that it might drag Danta out of it, and it works.
Though, not before the sharp biting pain of the blade sinks between his ribs. A hitch of his breath, a grunt of pain, his body tensing as his breath picks up a touch. Blood pools and floods through the already bloody waistcoat the butcher wears, but at least it offers some stability for the blade still sticking out of him. And only when he’s confident Danta’s back to himself does he tilt his horned head back against the grass, taking another sharp breath, voice rougher than it had been even previously. “It’s okay.” He repeats when Danta sits back a fraction. His eyes open up in time to see Danta’s gaze flit to the handle he can see sticking out of him and with another short burst of breath, the butcher replies more instructionally than he probably should be in this situation.
“Leav-Leave it.” His hand comes up protectively, in case Danta was thinking about pulling the blade from him, covering the space which it’s plunged in. “I can stand. I think.”
Though, not before the sharp biting pain of the blade sinks between his ribs. A hitch of his breath, a grunt of pain, his body tensing as his breath picks up a touch. Blood pools and floods through the already bloody waistcoat the butcher wears, but at least it offers some stability for the blade still sticking out of him. And only when he’s confident Danta’s back to himself does he tilt his horned head back against the grass, taking another sharp breath, voice rougher than it had been even previously. “It’s okay.” He repeats when Danta sits back a fraction. His eyes open up in time to see Danta’s gaze flit to the handle he can see sticking out of him and with another short burst of breath, the butcher replies more instructionally than he probably should be in this situation.
“Leav-Leave it.” His hand comes up protectively, in case Danta was thinking about pulling the blade from him, covering the space which it’s plunged in. “I can stand. I think.”
Astaroth
so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine
