// don't you fight my hold on you //
Squinting at the mud monster as he corrals it away, the butcher snorts a little and shakes his head. “No, they do not appear to.” Perhaps that made more sense than he’d originally given the mud creatures credit for. Either way, it’s a thought that’s there and lost immediately upon the retreating form of the creature, sluggish and slow with how it doesn’t have all of its mobility.
Turning back to his lover, the butcher steps over in time to find the Maverick crouched amongst branches and leaves, inspecting a scrap of fabric that’s the tell tale sign that it’s the prisoner they’re after. It’s calculated and quiet, the way that Danta inspects the track left behind, and he thinks momentarily that had he been born in Whitebrim just as Asta was, they would have made one hell of a scouting team.
It's a touch of pride and excitement to watch as he pinpoints where exactly the man has run off to, trailing behind him silently – equally just as much predator and with less agility than the Maverick has, that the butcher chases after. He, too, doesn’t leave prints as they close in, and before long they’ll find a clearing where the man has attempted to hide behind a large boulder in the right side of the clearing to catch his breath and to try and scheme his way out of it.
The only problem is that he’s staring in the opposite direction of them, having not yet made the connection that he’s being followed closely. So the two Ancients get a full view of the man trying to hide behind this boulder, peeking up and over it, mumbling to himself in a moment of insanity.
"After you, my Wasp." The butcher purrs in a tone low and only for Danta's ears, not hiding the sharp grin gracing his face.
Turning back to his lover, the butcher steps over in time to find the Maverick crouched amongst branches and leaves, inspecting a scrap of fabric that’s the tell tale sign that it’s the prisoner they’re after. It’s calculated and quiet, the way that Danta inspects the track left behind, and he thinks momentarily that had he been born in Whitebrim just as Asta was, they would have made one hell of a scouting team.
It's a touch of pride and excitement to watch as he pinpoints where exactly the man has run off to, trailing behind him silently – equally just as much predator and with less agility than the Maverick has, that the butcher chases after. He, too, doesn’t leave prints as they close in, and before long they’ll find a clearing where the man has attempted to hide behind a large boulder in the right side of the clearing to catch his breath and to try and scheme his way out of it.
The only problem is that he’s staring in the opposite direction of them, having not yet made the connection that he’s being followed closely. So the two Ancients get a full view of the man trying to hide behind this boulder, peeking up and over it, mumbling to himself in a moment of insanity.
"After you, my Wasp." The butcher purrs in a tone low and only for Danta's ears, not hiding the sharp grin gracing his face.
Astaroth
// pour the gasoline, strike your match on me //
