// day breaks sorrow //
He is very prince-like as he drifts through the warm trees. And Asta is soaking it in shamelessly from behind him, like the ever watchful bodyguard he is. His own hair free of any leaves or flowers that may have tried to snag into them, it’s all prim and proper compared to the beautiful chaos that Danta embodies. From the rainbow sheen of his horns cascading against liquid gold, to the pop of color snagged in his hair that the butcher only notices once he’s side by side with him, from the vibrant blues that seem somehow brighter than before in the green reflected hue of the sun against the canopy above.
Asta’s feet find steady ground soon enough, though, and his tail flits contently with the result as he straightens up back to his perfect posture, the warm hand at his lover’s back sweeps gently against bare skin before finding its place against his hip. “Oh, it would not surprise me.” The accented chuckle that leaves him is a gentle one, thoughtful, contemplative. “Perhaps it is where the will-o-wisps sleep?” Angling his head down toward Danta with a playful bounce of his brow, his gaze is honey bright, a certain golden fiery hue within them that only appeared when directly cast upon by the sun. “Less work but still efficient?”
"How many lanterns do you think are out there that we had a hand in?" He muses the previous thought aloud, angling his head as he continues to look at him with warmth and affection rather than the path they take.
Asta’s feet find steady ground soon enough, though, and his tail flits contently with the result as he straightens up back to his perfect posture, the warm hand at his lover’s back sweeps gently against bare skin before finding its place against his hip. “Oh, it would not surprise me.” The accented chuckle that leaves him is a gentle one, thoughtful, contemplative. “Perhaps it is where the will-o-wisps sleep?” Angling his head down toward Danta with a playful bounce of his brow, his gaze is honey bright, a certain golden fiery hue within them that only appeared when directly cast upon by the sun. “Less work but still efficient?”
"How many lanterns do you think are out there that we had a hand in?" He muses the previous thought aloud, angling his head as he continues to look at him with warmth and affection rather than the path they take.
Astaroth
// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //
