we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within
let your desire be simply acquired within, within
Leaving the thoughts of whatever his nickname could mean, he focuses instead as Thalassa arrives in a flare of wickedness that Asta can’t help but to admire, snorting as everyone seems dead set on cake. Watching Charlie and @Kaisel’s display has him even more amused, even as his arm tightens a touch around Danta’s waist, casting a glance over to him with amusement only to see the bit of slightly scorched meat offered to him – easily snatching it away carefully lest his sharp teeth nick a finger or two.
“Icing is dreadful to get out of fabric, darling.” He says it so casually, like it’s the verbal equivalent of brushing off a piece of lint from his shoulder. “But there may be cake of another sort awaiting you later.” Comes the quieter drawl, the wicked smirk that plays on his lips before the butcher’s glancing toward Thal again with a low rumble of a laugh and an affectionate glance granted toward Charlie’s comment.
Then, just like that, the party seems to change. The blood-soaked heat of the day shifts toward something else, something heavier and heady and the butcher is incapable of glancing over in time to spot Frey just before their departure. It’s a strange sight and one far different than he imagined they would look if he ever set eyes on them, sparking a heat that flares in his cheeks and his ears he isn’t sure quite how to stifle. Instead, his fingertips dig into Danta’s hip and he takes a long sip of his cocktail as if the burn from that might explain the burning in his face.
“If my information is correct, I believe that was Frey.” Glancing over at Danta for potential confirmation – and seeing just how alike the god had looked to the blonde at his side is astounding enough to keep him at bay. He's enough of a Dygra follower that the sensation of Frey affecting him is reminiscent of when Safrin had healed him, somehow feeling both right and wrong simultaneously. A strange loosening of the control over himself he isn't entirely sure how to feel. But it isn't his party and if Danta's enjoying the show, well, who's he to deny the simple pleasure Danta gets from this display?
“Icing is dreadful to get out of fabric, darling.” He says it so casually, like it’s the verbal equivalent of brushing off a piece of lint from his shoulder. “But there may be cake of another sort awaiting you later.” Comes the quieter drawl, the wicked smirk that plays on his lips before the butcher’s glancing toward Thal again with a low rumble of a laugh and an affectionate glance granted toward Charlie’s comment.
Then, just like that, the party seems to change. The blood-soaked heat of the day shifts toward something else, something heavier and heady and the butcher is incapable of glancing over in time to spot Frey just before their departure. It’s a strange sight and one far different than he imagined they would look if he ever set eyes on them, sparking a heat that flares in his cheeks and his ears he isn’t sure quite how to stifle. Instead, his fingertips dig into Danta’s hip and he takes a long sip of his cocktail as if the burn from that might explain the burning in his face.
“If my information is correct, I believe that was Frey.” Glancing over at Danta for potential confirmation – and seeing just how alike the god had looked to the blonde at his side is astounding enough to keep him at bay. He's enough of a Dygra follower that the sensation of Frey affecting him is reminiscent of when Safrin had healed him, somehow feeling both right and wrong simultaneously. A strange loosening of the control over himself he isn't entirely sure how to feel. But it isn't his party and if Danta's enjoying the show, well, who's he to deny the simple pleasure Danta gets from this display?
Astaroth
if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap
