i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse
i am the shadow driving the hearse
The voice that hums from the back, angled toward him feels like nothing more than the whisper of a breeze, casting a glance up to spy Danta as he arrives, spying the affection that sits there just before it breaks with the sight of him. He remains silent, his throat dry despite the way he tries to swallow. He wants to harbor all the swagger he can, to tell him the ghosts are a nice touch to the crimson suspenders, the black pants that pull it all together. He’d have more time to admire it if he didn’t feel like he was fighting for his life to use his haunt to hide the worst of the damage.
Even still, the quiet claim is heard by the bartender – ushering everyone out as he puts all of his focus on standing at the bar and not just collapsing, leaning heavily on the threaded cane for balance even if the tip of his spaded tail flits back and forth in both frustration and agony.
The glass that falls and shatters doesn’t even register, but he latches onto the blonde Ancient’s presence where he can, his back cold where Danta touches his ruined shirt. It’s coated in mud and bruises sit beneath it and even he can’t find it in himself to flinch when he feels the touch. The shadows part, stutter, before reaching out for him as he drags a barstool over for him.
“I am.. okay.” He blatantly lies, sitting once he can and only when he’s sure that the bartender has managed to get everyone out of the vicinity does the butcher finally let some of the shadows drop. His breath harbors a soft whine, tail whipping as he drops the threaded cane and lets it fall to the ground in a metallic thump, ignoring it to let his dark gaze focus on the Maverick as the shadows fall, bruising spotting around his face against his jaw and in the ring around one of his eyes.
Even still, the quiet claim is heard by the bartender – ushering everyone out as he puts all of his focus on standing at the bar and not just collapsing, leaning heavily on the threaded cane for balance even if the tip of his spaded tail flits back and forth in both frustration and agony.
The glass that falls and shatters doesn’t even register, but he latches onto the blonde Ancient’s presence where he can, his back cold where Danta touches his ruined shirt. It’s coated in mud and bruises sit beneath it and even he can’t find it in himself to flinch when he feels the touch. The shadows part, stutter, before reaching out for him as he drags a barstool over for him.
“I am.. okay.” He blatantly lies, sitting once he can and only when he’s sure that the bartender has managed to get everyone out of the vicinity does the butcher finally let some of the shadows drop. His breath harbors a soft whine, tail whipping as he drops the threaded cane and lets it fall to the ground in a metallic thump, ignoring it to let his dark gaze focus on the Maverick as the shadows fall, bruising spotting around his face against his jaw and in the ring around one of his eyes.
Astaroth
what was it like to feel in love?
