/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain
i promise honey, i can feel your pain
As expected, each and every point that Asta thinks might be a good lead up to actually asking the Maverick for his hand has been interrupted one way or another. It isn’t a big deal to him, really, given that they’re on vacation, but Asta has wanted to ensure that they were alone without prying eyes for something so special as this.
Such that, today he’s planned a divine dinner in one of the nicest spots of Torchline – later in the evening where they can snag a table up high in the city and watch the sunset, presumably post ask. For now, however, he’s in their room, having spent the last few minutes dressing up far nicer than he has all vacation. It’s still absolutely vacation wear for the butcher – toned down, but not without its golden accents.
Chains dangle from his antlers, a long sleeve silken shirt with gold threads weaved throughout it. The sleeves are rolled up, tucked into a pair of black pants and a nice worn leather belt. “Danta, darling, what about something like… this?” He asks, emerging from edge of their room in the Wildering House into a stream of sunlight, making his antlers flare to the rainbow hue of the fire obsidian color as he stills in it, holding up a rust red shirt – nicer than what Danta typically wears, but acid washed in a way that makes it scream the Maverick. Paired with it is an older necklace he’d given to Danta before that he’d snuck into their bags. It’s a beautiful golden chain that gleams in the sunlight, bone fragments dangling from various portions of the draping necklace.
Such that, today he’s planned a divine dinner in one of the nicest spots of Torchline – later in the evening where they can snag a table up high in the city and watch the sunset, presumably post ask. For now, however, he’s in their room, having spent the last few minutes dressing up far nicer than he has all vacation. It’s still absolutely vacation wear for the butcher – toned down, but not without its golden accents.
Chains dangle from his antlers, a long sleeve silken shirt with gold threads weaved throughout it. The sleeves are rolled up, tucked into a pair of black pants and a nice worn leather belt. “Danta, darling, what about something like… this?” He asks, emerging from edge of their room in the Wildering House into a stream of sunlight, making his antlers flare to the rainbow hue of the fire obsidian color as he stills in it, holding up a rust red shirt – nicer than what Danta typically wears, but acid washed in a way that makes it scream the Maverick. Paired with it is an older necklace he’d given to Danta before that he’d snuck into their bags. It’s a beautiful golden chain that gleams in the sunlight, bone fragments dangling from various portions of the draping necklace.
Astaroth
and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///
does that make me insane? ///
