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
As long as he knows how sorry he is, the butcher can take some amount of solace in it. As he continues to offer affection in the gentle touches along his side and back, flame tipped and hot wherever he touches, he indulges in the silence of listening to Danta’s breaths even out, for the way the tremble begins to slow. And when he hears the answer, it’s something that cements within him even if subconsciously he knows it.
Sometimes it’s nice to hear it, though. “I know, darling.” He says equally as soft, letting Danta draw silent and even letting him free one hand to wipe at his cheeks. He takes the moment to loosen his grip, to let that fire warmed hand lift to follow after Danta’s fingers, swiping away the mess of tears in a small puff of steam. “I’m still learning how to get to you when you’re in them. I can’t just.. Talk to you.” The tone is still off, even if it's still apologetic – the Whitebrim accent heavy and flooding each and every word, like he’s trying to keep the more proper version of himself at bay until he’s certain it won’t reflect negatively.
Sometimes it’s nice to hear it, though. “I know, darling.” He says equally as soft, letting Danta draw silent and even letting him free one hand to wipe at his cheeks. He takes the moment to loosen his grip, to let that fire warmed hand lift to follow after Danta’s fingers, swiping away the mess of tears in a small puff of steam. “I’m still learning how to get to you when you’re in them. I can’t just.. Talk to you.” The tone is still off, even if it's still apologetic – the Whitebrim accent heavy and flooding each and every word, like he’s trying to keep the more proper version of himself at bay until he’s certain it won’t reflect negatively.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
