// nothing is as simple, I worship, you're my temple //
The way Danta has simultaneously shut down and also become nostalgic honestly takes most of the butcher’s focus right this moment. It’s enough that he misses the vast majority of those that have arrived, Flora, Kaisel, Deimos, Thalassa, and even Maea. He stays close to the Maverick, keeping his arm in his as they drift over toward the stalls to pick and choose whatever it was Danta wanted.
His head is held high but he can see in his peripheral vision the way Danta’s gaze remains on the floor, at least until he’s glancing up at him for the question that leaves his lips. Hearing the answer, seeing the brief edges of the mask and performance his lover puts into it, Asta lets Danta guide him to whichever stall he wants something from.
And to say he’s not at all surprised by the choice is an absolute lie. Sweet treats were not something Danta often chose for himself, yet here they are stepping away with two of the sugared donuts in his lover’s hands and Asta with his own sweet, Danish kind of pastry that he nibbles on as he focuses on the Maverick continuously to make sure he was fine.
At least, until the question of Thalassa come sup and he looks away, squinting into the distance to see her blonde and by the fire, his head tilting. “It does appear to be, doesn’t it?” He murmurs in confusion, his pastry held in a pause from the next bite as he thinks. “Perhaps she has lost a bet and that is why she is blonde now?” He suggests, not knowing how true he is on that regard, but knowing her well enough to know she probably wouldn’t choose to be blonde on her own.
His head is held high but he can see in his peripheral vision the way Danta’s gaze remains on the floor, at least until he’s glancing up at him for the question that leaves his lips. Hearing the answer, seeing the brief edges of the mask and performance his lover puts into it, Asta lets Danta guide him to whichever stall he wants something from.
And to say he’s not at all surprised by the choice is an absolute lie. Sweet treats were not something Danta often chose for himself, yet here they are stepping away with two of the sugared donuts in his lover’s hands and Asta with his own sweet, Danish kind of pastry that he nibbles on as he focuses on the Maverick continuously to make sure he was fine.
At least, until the question of Thalassa come sup and he looks away, squinting into the distance to see her blonde and by the fire, his head tilting. “It does appear to be, doesn’t it?” He murmurs in confusion, his pastry held in a pause from the next bite as he thinks. “Perhaps she has lost a bet and that is why she is blonde now?” He suggests, not knowing how true he is on that regard, but knowing her well enough to know she probably wouldn’t choose to be blonde on her own.
Astaroth
// and heaven, hold your gates open, all the hell we've been through //
