run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
He can feel the war that Danta has with himself, the way he both wants to not be touched and to fold into his embrace. He’s glad when ultimately he sinks in and Asta draws him in close, trying to offer whatever kind of heat he can in the passing moments as they decide where they’re heading. As the mumble is pressed into the side of his neck, his arms tighten a little with understanding – recalling the unique little inn that very likely does not have too many visitors given its spooky nature, but one that the butcher is quite a fan of.
So, picking the path so that the Talism-Inn is their destination, the butcher spends the time it takes them to get there making sure that Danta doesn’t get soaked through with more rain. “Oh my love, I am sorry for not thinking better about using it.” Comes his own apology, shifting his head slightly so that he can press a kiss to the blonde crown of his head and try to inject some flame into his lover without it sparking his soaked clothes.
“You never have to apologize to me if it becomes too much.” He adds in a lower whisper. “I will always understand.” And he always will, even if his own nightmares had been perfectly encapsulated in the corvid bracelet around his wrist, exposed at the moment to the elements as he carries Danta toward the inn in the distance – it’s gloomy, green lighting emitting brightly amongst the rest of the darkly lit alleyway, a beacon for those like them for solace.
So, picking the path so that the Talism-Inn is their destination, the butcher spends the time it takes them to get there making sure that Danta doesn’t get soaked through with more rain. “Oh my love, I am sorry for not thinking better about using it.” Comes his own apology, shifting his head slightly so that he can press a kiss to the blonde crown of his head and try to inject some flame into his lover without it sparking his soaked clothes.
“You never have to apologize to me if it becomes too much.” He adds in a lower whisper. “I will always understand.” And he always will, even if his own nightmares had been perfectly encapsulated in the corvid bracelet around his wrist, exposed at the moment to the elements as he carries Danta toward the inn in the distance – it’s gloomy, green lighting emitting brightly amongst the rest of the darkly lit alleyway, a beacon for those like them for solace.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
