the wind around the willow

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

He’s lucid enough for the time being to let his thoughts loose – not blocked out by the seconds of hesitating that the butcher often did to ensure he meant exactly what he said. Instead, the butcher feels his lips quirk up slightly to hear Danta’s laugh – the haze in his gaze glittering as he reluctantly lets his lover go to sit up. “I am being serious.” Comes his quiet, accented protest – the whitebrim accent growing thicker with each passing minute.

Asta curls up in the space left behind, head propped slightly to peer up at the Maverick as if he might be able to feel the warmth left behind. “And I am okay, now. And I will be if you go.” He hums a little quieter, the original smile fading for something serious as he tries to sit up again but feels his body weigh a little too heavy for him to succeed. “No region to rule or worry about, no me to worry about.” He feels like it isn’t selling well enough, though, so rather than try to sit up to chase and invade his lover’s space, he reaches up with his hand, fingertips encased with little rings of mud under his fingernails as he cups his lover’s cheek.

“I know you are upset, love. And I know you have no good way to get it out right now.” He whispers softly, like their confession earlier, words shared only for them in the confines of the plush blankets and pillows and ashy mud.

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?