// with our one foot in the grave //
Chaos thrums in the steady beat of the crackling fire and the cacophony of voices that rise above the rest. Charlie’s is the most notable, and as he flashes his lover his traditional shark tooth grin, he follows the nudge to spot their favorite Priestess off in the distance – her voice still the loudest, stunning beacon of their festival and her lively body encapsulating the very chaos of attire he’d expect from her on a night like tonight.
Chuckling softly as he takes her in, the butcher inclines his head in agreement. “I am sure she will manage just fine. She lives for this, no?” He asks as they reach the taffy stall and he’s already plucking a variety of different sweets to tuck away. Turning back to the Maverick at the precise time that the shot of absinthe is produced, the butcher’s eyes softening with appreciation at the dramatics of the flame that curls in a blueish hue toward the top of the liquor. “Thank you, darling.” He purrs, taking the shot glass before clinking it against Danta’s own.
“And to the blood moon.” He tacks onto Danta’s perfect toast, downing the shot with the black licorice taste and the singe of flame entirely, warmed through almost immediately like the fire’s trailed down his throat. His tail wags slightly with the delight of the taste, already reaching to snag another with a soft nudge to his lover in case he would like another one.
Chuckling softly as he takes her in, the butcher inclines his head in agreement. “I am sure she will manage just fine. She lives for this, no?” He asks as they reach the taffy stall and he’s already plucking a variety of different sweets to tuck away. Turning back to the Maverick at the precise time that the shot of absinthe is produced, the butcher’s eyes softening with appreciation at the dramatics of the flame that curls in a blueish hue toward the top of the liquor. “Thank you, darling.” He purrs, taking the shot glass before clinking it against Danta’s own.
“And to the blood moon.” He tacks onto Danta’s perfect toast, downing the shot with the black licorice taste and the singe of flame entirely, warmed through almost immediately like the fire’s trailed down his throat. His tail wags slightly with the delight of the taste, already reaching to snag another with a soft nudge to his lover in case he would like another one.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
