/// come close to midnight, hell fade me down
and then my eyes got used to the darkness
and then my eyes got used to the darkness
It will be his first flying shift ever - not even having had one back when he’d tormented the Climb. It would be an adjustment, and he’s nearly a breath away from asking Danta if he’d teach him to fly when he hesitates. Because of course he would.
Of course his little crow would teach his wolf how to fly. It’s a question that doesn’t need an answer.
So the butcher smiles instead, snorting a hoarse sound as they work to regain their footing. Asta helps him with the boon of the tree trunk for stability, until they’ve managed to get settled and balanced, and only as he’s trying to tug up his own pants does Danta start tugging him toward a lush, mossy patch that looks like the kind he’d seek out when he’d go on his scouting missions.
“Obviously, darling.” He touts playfully as he finds one space in particular that looks perfect, thick and lush and beneath the branches of another large tree nearby without the worry of a wicker woman to come and ruin their nap. His shadows trail after them, before extending in a mock movement of laying down before they have a chance to - which is fair, given the way Asta tugs Danta back toward him, smoothing his hands in a gentle and tender motion against his skin, checking for hidden weapons. “Mm, well, you do have a tendency of hiding them. I must be thorough.” He notes, like he’s well versed in removing weaponry from Danta in particular.
He is, but for different reasons.
Guiding him with his gentle yet firm touch to sit down amongst the lush moss and his shadow, the butcher follows after, still smoothing his hands down along Danta’s hips and up his back against small superficial scratches from the bark of the tree and over pale, pearlescent scars.
Of course his little crow would teach his wolf how to fly. It’s a question that doesn’t need an answer.
So the butcher smiles instead, snorting a hoarse sound as they work to regain their footing. Asta helps him with the boon of the tree trunk for stability, until they’ve managed to get settled and balanced, and only as he’s trying to tug up his own pants does Danta start tugging him toward a lush, mossy patch that looks like the kind he’d seek out when he’d go on his scouting missions.
“Obviously, darling.” He touts playfully as he finds one space in particular that looks perfect, thick and lush and beneath the branches of another large tree nearby without the worry of a wicker woman to come and ruin their nap. His shadows trail after them, before extending in a mock movement of laying down before they have a chance to - which is fair, given the way Asta tugs Danta back toward him, smoothing his hands in a gentle and tender motion against his skin, checking for hidden weapons. “Mm, well, you do have a tendency of hiding them. I must be thorough.” He notes, like he’s well versed in removing weaponry from Danta in particular.
He is, but for different reasons.
Guiding him with his gentle yet firm touch to sit down amongst the lush moss and his shadow, the butcher follows after, still smoothing his hands down along Danta’s hips and up his back against small superficial scratches from the bark of the tree and over pale, pearlescent scars.
Astaroth
and everyone that i knew,
was lost and so long forgotten after you ///
was lost and so long forgotten after you ///
