/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain
i promise honey, i can feel your pain
Happy to hand over the bone flower, Asta holds the bottle of wine by the neck as they walk, keeping their hands intertwined for the trek back down toward the shore and the Wildering House. He spies the sidelong glance, however, and tilts his head toward his fiancé with an easy smile that’s settled on his lips too. “You flatter me.” He purrs warmly, turning to look over at him with all the confident arrogance the butcher always exudes.
“You truly thrive in the sunlight, darling. It is almost as if you were made from the fire and brimstone of it.” The compliment drips from his lips in a low thrum that’s playful as much as it is true – Danta was made from the very thing the Climb exuded. Fire, sunlight, heat, magma and lava in turn, the quiet of a resting pool to the explosion of the eruption. And Asta loved him for every single part of it, even if he himself was meant more for the opposite side of the coin.
He is the shadow – the colder nights where the stars twinkle overhead, the darkness that comes with the flash of the moon and the unknowns that sit within it. Fire was just one part of him, a part that had both harmed and saved him, but a part none the less. His thoughts on the matter are distracting enough that Asta finds himself shifting the conversation quietly and easily. “I made the flower from the bones of speaking squirrels.”
“You truly thrive in the sunlight, darling. It is almost as if you were made from the fire and brimstone of it.” The compliment drips from his lips in a low thrum that’s playful as much as it is true – Danta was made from the very thing the Climb exuded. Fire, sunlight, heat, magma and lava in turn, the quiet of a resting pool to the explosion of the eruption. And Asta loved him for every single part of it, even if he himself was meant more for the opposite side of the coin.
He is the shadow – the colder nights where the stars twinkle overhead, the darkness that comes with the flash of the moon and the unknowns that sit within it. Fire was just one part of him, a part that had both harmed and saved him, but a part none the less. His thoughts on the matter are distracting enough that Asta finds himself shifting the conversation quietly and easily. “I made the flower from the bones of speaking squirrels.”
Astaroth
and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///
does that make me insane? ///
