If you're standing in the cold out of fear your flaws will show
“I will try.” He says, distracted as he gets himself free of the mud, but not any less delighted by the result. In fact, as he peers around the trunk and drags his fingers along, collecting crimson on his spindly fingers, he turns back to Danta as he begins to hack away at the tree. “Mm, well, perhaps we have surpassed the test?” He grins at the idea, before he returns to Danta’s side, standing on a few of the roots that are large enough to keep him from sinking into the muck.
He crouches beside him, fingers painted red and hair a bit messy from where he’d fallen backwards, but for the life of him finds he doesn’t care. (He will when they depart, but for now? This is perfect.) “Perhaps I was.” He muses, doing his diligence in scouting for ghosts and ghouls and beasts of the deep dark mud.
His tail flicks as he considers it, turning his attention back toward Danta briefly with that same too sharp grin. “It is not that different from the deepest snows I have endured. Perhaps I have already done my time as a snowbank creature.” It’s a dramatic drawl, one that’s equally as playful as everything else has been before.
“Besides, I do not believe I could ever go back to such isolation after enduring such pleasant attention in the years since.” A nod to Danta for that one, because while Asta had always loved the attention he received, it was different when there was love and affection within. And he’d realized after so many years of living in his isolation, that it was more of a prison of his own making.
He crouches beside him, fingers painted red and hair a bit messy from where he’d fallen backwards, but for the life of him finds he doesn’t care. (He will when they depart, but for now? This is perfect.) “Perhaps I was.” He muses, doing his diligence in scouting for ghosts and ghouls and beasts of the deep dark mud.
His tail flicks as he considers it, turning his attention back toward Danta briefly with that same too sharp grin. “It is not that different from the deepest snows I have endured. Perhaps I have already done my time as a snowbank creature.” It’s a dramatic drawl, one that’s equally as playful as everything else has been before.
“Besides, I do not believe I could ever go back to such isolation after enduring such pleasant attention in the years since.” A nod to Danta for that one, because while Asta had always loved the attention he received, it was different when there was love and affection within. And he’d realized after so many years of living in his isolation, that it was more of a prison of his own making.
Astaroth
We can live out where the warmth is 'til our names are etched in stone
