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
He doesn’t blame Danta for using the tools he has. Gods knew Asta did. It’s why the crescent mark of his teeth still remain scarred in his lover’s arm. The butcher’s best weapon was a part of him, incapable from being separated. And the two Ancient’s aren’t so dissimilar that they wouldn’t use the tools at their disposal. He’s sure if Danta hadn’t had a blade, he would have tried to dig his fingers in as he’d done once before. Anything to make it worth trying to spill blood. “I forgive you, darling.” He says, unsure what else to say to that. Because he gets it, so much.
The trail is even and flat at this portion, which certainly helps the blade refrain from being jostled further. And he feels like he can take his breaths a bit easier, even if Danta’s question has him hitching and looking at him before he sinks more of his weight into his lover’s side, nodding numbly. “I see.” He admits, his smile lines fading in lieu of a frown that finds his face before he’s nodding short and abruptly. “Okay. We will work on it. Starting tonight.” It’s resigned as nausea blooms in his gut again, nose wrinkling slightly as more lancing pain grips him, stuttering his steps.
But the Infirmary is shortly in the distance, and gods if he can’t wait to get this fucking dagger out of his chest. “If it becomes too much, darling… I can sleep in the mezzanine.” He hums, because he knows that Danta would refuse the idea of him sleeping back in his old room. But their own, just a different portion, might be suitable enough as an option, in case Danta was worried about it as Asta had been when going through the crow encounters to get his charm.
The trail is even and flat at this portion, which certainly helps the blade refrain from being jostled further. And he feels like he can take his breaths a bit easier, even if Danta’s question has him hitching and looking at him before he sinks more of his weight into his lover’s side, nodding numbly. “I see.” He admits, his smile lines fading in lieu of a frown that finds his face before he’s nodding short and abruptly. “Okay. We will work on it. Starting tonight.” It’s resigned as nausea blooms in his gut again, nose wrinkling slightly as more lancing pain grips him, stuttering his steps.
But the Infirmary is shortly in the distance, and gods if he can’t wait to get this fucking dagger out of his chest. “If it becomes too much, darling… I can sleep in the mezzanine.” He hums, because he knows that Danta would refuse the idea of him sleeping back in his old room. But their own, just a different portion, might be suitable enough as an option, in case Danta was worried about it as Asta had been when going through the crow encounters to get his charm.
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
