// with our one foot in the grave //
Ignoring Kaisel and Flora for the most part as he heads toward Danta – reaching out carefully as though he might be able to stop Danta from leaving. The hope dies the second that he spies the overbright smile, the roughened voice that to others might signify he’s drank a bit too much. Asta knows better, though, and when he lets him go, muscles feather in the butcher’s jaw, his hand closing in the space his lover has left before he draws it back into his shadows.
“It’s… alright.” He mutters into the space after Danta’s disappeared, the hand that had stretched for the Maverick curls around his bicep over pale scar tissue hidden beneath a damp shirt sleeve. “Fuck.” He whispers, drawing himself back together enough to straighten his posture, to pretend like things were okay, before he turns and stalks off toward the drink stall to snag another shot of absinthe to down before he’s stalking out of the Blood Moon festival to give Danta space and to see whether or not he’ll eventually head home.
Asta out!
“It’s… alright.” He mutters into the space after Danta’s disappeared, the hand that had stretched for the Maverick curls around his bicep over pale scar tissue hidden beneath a damp shirt sleeve. “Fuck.” He whispers, drawing himself back together enough to straighten his posture, to pretend like things were okay, before he turns and stalks off toward the drink stall to snag another shot of absinthe to down before he’s stalking out of the Blood Moon festival to give Danta space and to see whether or not he’ll eventually head home.
Asta out!
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
