sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth

// up above so, up above so quiet //

There is no reason to fight, at least from Asta’s perspective. Danta was allowed to feel what he was feeling, even if the butcher couldn’t see it. The way he explains it and he has a chance to put the pieces together, he understands, which is a rare thing indeed this season. After all, he didn’t need his Feirw shift to feel suddenly possessive and protective of the Maverick when he was flashing flirty smiles at anyone else but himself. He’d already had his own momentary panic about it before.

And they’d talked about it after. As they are now, it seems, with the way his lover’s voice leaves him. Softer, a confession, like he doesn’t want to admit it. It’s a large step for the other Ancient, he realizes suddenly, and so he tears his gaze away from the ceiling to scan his lover’s face, one hand leaving him to cover the hand that presses against his chest. “I am sorry that you have felt that way.” He starts off, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps it is because Charlie and Flora engage with you more than Thalassa does.” Not to give an excuse to it, but if it had been more friendly perhaps it wouldn’t be as big of a deal.

Because he can see the pieces of why he’d started to get so guarded. “Let me heal her, darling, and I will fix this.” He vows, the dark honey of his gaze scans Danta’s face with conviction.

Astaroth

// down below so, down below so violent //