Astaroth
// but if you think I'm misery,
That’s true – there was very little except for sleep that kept the Maverick from offering the last word, such that he lets him keep that one as well as his main focus becomes getting to the Dusklight in as short amount of time as possible so he can warm up as quickly as he can. Already he feels his arms growing stiffer by the passing second, the slow sluggish pull of his fingers when he opens the door for Danta to slip in first.
He trails him, still grumpy, still annoyed – and if he’d been able to partial shift everyone would be able to see just how upset he was. For now, though, it’s with the faux too sharp grin that gives him away, following the Maverick like the good bodyguard he was. “We are certainly going to Frey’s Breath tomorrow.” He murmurs, in case there were any other thoughts. “So for now, it should be enough to withstand the wait.” The shower, that is.
Actually, anything to get all this mud off of himself.
He slips out of his boots outside of their room as well, trailing after the Maverick into the comfort of their space and the bone chimes that dance from the mezzanine with the flux of air from the door swinging open and the rush of heat from the fire that Danta grows. He closes the door behind them, locking it with practiced ease, turning back to Danta with the whip of his tail in slight annoyance even as he takes in Danta hanging up his coat and peeling off his shirt.
He follows suit, slipping out of his jacket that he can’t hang, thanks to the mud coating half of it, dropping it into a pile before he’s adding his shirt and pants to it. “Leave it in a pile, darling, I will take care of it.” He’d become a master at getting blood out of his clothing, he’s positive mud can’t be that bad. And if it is, well, all the more reason for a spree outside of the Inner Quarter.
Mud coats his skin even beneath the shirt in dark strokes up his sides and against his scars, though he pays it little mind as he fights to remove the hair tie from his hair, eventually just snapping it in the process and letting the mud thick strands fall against his face, heavy and limp.
He trails him, still grumpy, still annoyed – and if he’d been able to partial shift everyone would be able to see just how upset he was. For now, though, it’s with the faux too sharp grin that gives him away, following the Maverick like the good bodyguard he was. “We are certainly going to Frey’s Breath tomorrow.” He murmurs, in case there were any other thoughts. “So for now, it should be enough to withstand the wait.” The shower, that is.
Actually, anything to get all this mud off of himself.
He slips out of his boots outside of their room as well, trailing after the Maverick into the comfort of their space and the bone chimes that dance from the mezzanine with the flux of air from the door swinging open and the rush of heat from the fire that Danta grows. He closes the door behind them, locking it with practiced ease, turning back to Danta with the whip of his tail in slight annoyance even as he takes in Danta hanging up his coat and peeling off his shirt.
He follows suit, slipping out of his jacket that he can’t hang, thanks to the mud coating half of it, dropping it into a pile before he’s adding his shirt and pants to it. “Leave it in a pile, darling, I will take care of it.” He’d become a master at getting blood out of his clothing, he’s positive mud can’t be that bad. And if it is, well, all the more reason for a spree outside of the Inner Quarter.
Mud coats his skin even beneath the shirt in dark strokes up his sides and against his scars, though he pays it little mind as he fights to remove the hair tie from his hair, eventually just snapping it in the process and letting the mud thick strands fall against his face, heavy and limp.
then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //
it never leaves me alone, no //
