my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,
come now, bite through these wires,
“It is not a threat, darling, it is a promise.” The butcher flashes a wink once he’s devoured the shared bite of Danta’s meal. It’s just as delicious as he’d suspected it would be – even if his attention seems a bit more focused on his reaction to the scallops with the deep reddish purple hue of the pomegranate glaze.
He offers his own bite of the lamb over, keeping an eye on him as he takes the bite and relaxes with the approval that has the butcher sinking back a touch in his chair with an easy but still sharp smile. “I have to agree.” He murmurs, settling into the silence aside from the chatter around them and the filtered soft music that only adds to the ambiance of the bonfire light flickering against their faces.
It's perhaps the most he’s eaten in a single sitting without falling asleep immediately after and the butcher neatly cleans up his plate by placing the used cutlery that he isn’t keeping, atop the plate and slides it toward the edge of the table when he hears his lover’s voice and spots the wicked smile. “I may burst if we indulge in dessert but I feel as though it is a must.” He drawls with a playful weariness, head cocking slightly as his sharp smile brightens. “What stolen forks?” He whispers as he leans across the table a touch, showing the sleeve in question to reveal that it’s empty. But if Danta listens intently when he leans back, he’ll hear the quiet clank of metal upon metal from his pocket.
He offers his own bite of the lamb over, keeping an eye on him as he takes the bite and relaxes with the approval that has the butcher sinking back a touch in his chair with an easy but still sharp smile. “I have to agree.” He murmurs, settling into the silence aside from the chatter around them and the filtered soft music that only adds to the ambiance of the bonfire light flickering against their faces.
It's perhaps the most he’s eaten in a single sitting without falling asleep immediately after and the butcher neatly cleans up his plate by placing the used cutlery that he isn’t keeping, atop the plate and slides it toward the edge of the table when he hears his lover’s voice and spots the wicked smile. “I may burst if we indulge in dessert but I feel as though it is a must.” He drawls with a playful weariness, head cocking slightly as his sharp smile brightens. “What stolen forks?” He whispers as he leans across the table a touch, showing the sleeve in question to reveal that it’s empty. But if Danta listens intently when he leans back, he’ll hear the quiet clank of metal upon metal from his pocket.
Astaroth
i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired
