// we haven't won, and if we win, //
The Atheneum is precisely the place that Asta chose to venture to in order to try and get some research done. They hadn’t talked about the actual wedding just yet, too caught up in the freshly minted shine of the ring that sits on Danta’s finger back at the Dusklight. He’d promised not to be gone too long, but for the sake of research he thinks his fiancé will forgive him if he takes a little too long.
Slipping through the doors, the butcher’s decked out in his usual attire – a dark shirt with his sleeves rolled up, keeping those branded wrist scars on display and the bracelet that glints with the chrome-like black of gore crow feathers with the deep thrum of crimson blood interwoven in the fibers. A pale ivory and gold waistcoat adorns the rest of his person, hair swept back behind his antlers as he swans through the doors of the Atheneum, confidently knowing his way around the library’s rows.
He spots her perched on a shelf, trying to reach for a book in question and Asta lingers briefly. The helpers throughout have given her a wide berth – not that he’s surprised, but he imagines she’d be less inclined to give him a hard time as he steps up beside her, a shark tooth smile aimed her way as he reaches up to run his fingers across the spine of the book he thinks she’s going for. “You are allowed to ask for help, Thalassa, dear.” The butcher hums, raising his brow in a silent question of whether that’s the one she’s searching for before he plucks the one she needs from the shelf to hand it to her.
Slipping through the doors, the butcher’s decked out in his usual attire – a dark shirt with his sleeves rolled up, keeping those branded wrist scars on display and the bracelet that glints with the chrome-like black of gore crow feathers with the deep thrum of crimson blood interwoven in the fibers. A pale ivory and gold waistcoat adorns the rest of his person, hair swept back behind his antlers as he swans through the doors of the Atheneum, confidently knowing his way around the library’s rows.
He spots her perched on a shelf, trying to reach for a book in question and Asta lingers briefly. The helpers throughout have given her a wide berth – not that he’s surprised, but he imagines she’d be less inclined to give him a hard time as he steps up beside her, a shark tooth smile aimed her way as he reaches up to run his fingers across the spine of the book he thinks she’s going for. “You are allowed to ask for help, Thalassa, dear.” The butcher hums, raising his brow in a silent question of whether that’s the one she’s searching for before he plucks the one she needs from the shelf to hand it to her.
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
