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
Oh he can scent the iron as soon as Danta’s clamped down on his cheek. But he still doesn’t move, doesn’t use it to draw him closer, doesn’t use it as a boon to try and get Danta to relax. He knows he won’t. It’s all he can do to stay where he is, unhurried, unpressed, disinterested in Danta that might prove to him that he isn’t there to hurt him, harm him, or maim him.
But it’s the whisper that has the butcher immediately dropping the haunt, as fiery wendigo becomes human once more, sat on the floor beside his desk, equally as small, horns and shadows perfectly properly in place. “Danta?” He asks quietly, his voice normal, softer, gentler, like trying to regain the trust of a wild animal. His dark gaze lifts to him, one hand braced against the dressing on his side only because of how he’s curled up here to sit on the floor.
He still doesn’t move, putting the cards entirely in his lover’s hands.
But it’s the whisper that has the butcher immediately dropping the haunt, as fiery wendigo becomes human once more, sat on the floor beside his desk, equally as small, horns and shadows perfectly properly in place. “Danta?” He asks quietly, his voice normal, softer, gentler, like trying to regain the trust of a wild animal. His dark gaze lifts to him, one hand braced against the dressing on his side only because of how he’s curled up here to sit on the floor.
He still doesn’t move, putting the cards entirely in his lover’s hands.
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
