/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain
i promise honey, i can feel your pain
“I will and did.” Asta hums boldly, letting Danta’s rich laughter warm him and bolster that warmth into the recesses of his heart that his nerves have tried to get a foothold in. When Danta turns around, Asta’s smile is sharp but perhaps one of the softest ones it’s been lately, charmed and equally as warm as the light also brightens the dark honey brown of his gaze into brighter, sharper pools of molten gold.
He straightens a bit, taking in the light that plays with Danta’s hair and brightens his eyes even more, beautiful and vibrant. “Exactly, my wasp.” He hums, as if the whole reason he wouldn’t be drowning Danta is because of the finery of his outfit. It isn’t, for the record. But Danta doesn’t know that just yet.
Preening, however, under Danta’s warm wandering hands and the compliment, his smile twists a bit playfully as he tilts his head, the golden chains glinting with the movement. “Mm, well, you do not have to be too careful. It is a celebration, after all.” And he wouldn’t complain when he’s positive these pieces could be fixed by his favorite tailor back home if anything terrible happened to them.
But it’s this holding pattern that has the butcher breaking, not thinking of a better moment that might fall into place. Not where he has him precisely where he wants him, the two of them illuminated in half light and half shadow, the perfect combination of the both of them, he thinks. “Now why is it a celebration, you may be wondering?” He teases, his tail still wagging a touch, though it slows in its earlier excitement. “Because I have thought about today for a while now. I have thought about how you are the only one that could ever understand me, who has not shied from the challenge that I often bring. You are bold, smart, resilient, and strong and absolutely everything else that I am not and it is only a few of the ways in how much I love you, Dantalion.” The full name drop feels necessary here, and paired with the vibrant way his shark-toothed smile grows, the butcher’s hands smooth down Danta’s arm, one pausing to cover the crescent shape of the bite scar he’d given him just before he’d finished the quest for the crow charm on his own wrist. “I will forever be grateful for this second chance and to spend it with you, without the hierarchy and lies of the Climb weighing on our necks. I am so deeply glad that you decided to wake me from my stone prison before we had a chance to know the real us and what that became. So thank you, my love, for granting me everything a man like me could ever want in this life.” He’s gotten wordsy, he knows it, and his smile twists a touch apologetic as he keeps them both anchored there in the sunlight.
He lowers himself to one knee, pulling a carved bone box out of his pocket with etchings made on the lid. A crow with its wings spread taking flight in its own freedom, the deer beneath it on a knoll that seems to look up at said crow. “So, my wasp, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” Anyone that knows the butcher knows he does not prefer to be shorter than anyone else, but for this he concedes – peering up at the Maverick with hope glinting in the gold of his sunlit gaze, the box popping open to reveal a golden ring within, adorned in fire obsidian gemstones to match the butcher’s horns that mirror the way his own antlers glint in this moment.
He straightens a bit, taking in the light that plays with Danta’s hair and brightens his eyes even more, beautiful and vibrant. “Exactly, my wasp.” He hums, as if the whole reason he wouldn’t be drowning Danta is because of the finery of his outfit. It isn’t, for the record. But Danta doesn’t know that just yet.
Preening, however, under Danta’s warm wandering hands and the compliment, his smile twists a bit playfully as he tilts his head, the golden chains glinting with the movement. “Mm, well, you do not have to be too careful. It is a celebration, after all.” And he wouldn’t complain when he’s positive these pieces could be fixed by his favorite tailor back home if anything terrible happened to them.
But it’s this holding pattern that has the butcher breaking, not thinking of a better moment that might fall into place. Not where he has him precisely where he wants him, the two of them illuminated in half light and half shadow, the perfect combination of the both of them, he thinks. “Now why is it a celebration, you may be wondering?” He teases, his tail still wagging a touch, though it slows in its earlier excitement. “Because I have thought about today for a while now. I have thought about how you are the only one that could ever understand me, who has not shied from the challenge that I often bring. You are bold, smart, resilient, and strong and absolutely everything else that I am not and it is only a few of the ways in how much I love you, Dantalion.” The full name drop feels necessary here, and paired with the vibrant way his shark-toothed smile grows, the butcher’s hands smooth down Danta’s arm, one pausing to cover the crescent shape of the bite scar he’d given him just before he’d finished the quest for the crow charm on his own wrist. “I will forever be grateful for this second chance and to spend it with you, without the hierarchy and lies of the Climb weighing on our necks. I am so deeply glad that you decided to wake me from my stone prison before we had a chance to know the real us and what that became. So thank you, my love, for granting me everything a man like me could ever want in this life.” He’s gotten wordsy, he knows it, and his smile twists a touch apologetic as he keeps them both anchored there in the sunlight.
He lowers himself to one knee, pulling a carved bone box out of his pocket with etchings made on the lid. A crow with its wings spread taking flight in its own freedom, the deer beneath it on a knoll that seems to look up at said crow. “So, my wasp, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” Anyone that knows the butcher knows he does not prefer to be shorter than anyone else, but for this he concedes – peering up at the Maverick with hope glinting in the gold of his sunlit gaze, the box popping open to reveal a golden ring within, adorned in fire obsidian gemstones to match the butcher’s horns that mirror the way his own antlers glint in this moment.
Astaroth
and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///
does that make me insane? ///
