// with our one foot in the grave //
The butcher takes it in while Danta laments that it’s finally here – the Blood Moon festival that he hasn’t been a part of in centuries. His gaze drifts toward the bonfire in the distance with the glittering jewels, the way the mud still clings to parts of the cobblestones, the glowing scarlet hue that the Inner Quarter has taken on from fireworks randomly popping off in the distance. He’s still stiff, but limber enough that it’s easy to walk hand in hand with the Maverick, even dressed with the waterproof jacket, cut just high enough to make it easy for Danta to slip his hand into his back pocket as he sidles a touch closer to him and tightens his arm around his waist.
“It is my first since reawakening, yes.” He confirms, tilting his head toward Danta with a shark-tooth grin of his own, letting the chaos fill him and rejuvenate him. So much so, that with the prospect that Danta puts in his mind, he can’t help the way he all but leans into the idea and bumps it up. “Oh, I am not opposed. We can still invite Charlie, even.” Raising his brow playfully, he squeezes Danta and takes in the charged sensation in the air, the soft chuckle leaving him. “Come, I think I spot those taffies I like.” That just so happens to be next to the liquors. A perfect win-win.
“It is my first since reawakening, yes.” He confirms, tilting his head toward Danta with a shark-tooth grin of his own, letting the chaos fill him and rejuvenate him. So much so, that with the prospect that Danta puts in his mind, he can’t help the way he all but leans into the idea and bumps it up. “Oh, I am not opposed. We can still invite Charlie, even.” Raising his brow playfully, he squeezes Danta and takes in the charged sensation in the air, the soft chuckle leaving him. “Come, I think I spot those taffies I like.” That just so happens to be next to the liquors. A perfect win-win.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
