// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //
“I can be as coy as I’d like.” The butcher purrs with that heavy Whitebrim accent, daring and playful in all the ways that are brought out in him this season as of late. Though the other comment sparks a warm laugh from him, the shake of his head – though not enough to lose the feeling of his fingers in his hair. “Oh you would never find it on the mezzanine, darling. That particular notebook is kept on my person.” The butcher grins, all sharp teeth and defiance. “You never know when ideas or inspiration can strike.”
When it comes to Danta’s birthday, though, and the explanation that their wedding day and subsequent anniversaries would be more important than celebrating his birthday just for the sheer lack of birthdays celebrated in the past, the butcher looks nearly aghast at the idea of it. “All the more reason to continue to celebrate it, no? Make up for lost time and all that.” It’s partially why the butcher didn’t celebrate his, given the amount of celebrations he has had. “And yes, I can certainly wait if it means it’s absolutely perfect.” He reassures him, softening under the brush and attention of his nose against his own.
As he makes his suggestion, though, the butcher watches Danta’s face carefully, as if he might be able to see what he’s thinking before it leaves his lips, but the view gives him a touch of confusion before Danta elaborates. “Lovely.” He hums, arms squeezing around him in a small hug. “I was thinking the colors of the whole affair might be better suited with black, red, and golds...” The sentence ends in a hint of a question, waiting to see what Danta thought of such an idea – one that would melt the theme from their wedding to the after party.
When it comes to Danta’s birthday, though, and the explanation that their wedding day and subsequent anniversaries would be more important than celebrating his birthday just for the sheer lack of birthdays celebrated in the past, the butcher looks nearly aghast at the idea of it. “All the more reason to continue to celebrate it, no? Make up for lost time and all that.” It’s partially why the butcher didn’t celebrate his, given the amount of celebrations he has had. “And yes, I can certainly wait if it means it’s absolutely perfect.” He reassures him, softening under the brush and attention of his nose against his own.
As he makes his suggestion, though, the butcher watches Danta’s face carefully, as if he might be able to see what he’s thinking before it leaves his lips, but the view gives him a touch of confusion before Danta elaborates. “Lovely.” He hums, arms squeezing around him in a small hug. “I was thinking the colors of the whole affair might be better suited with black, red, and golds...” The sentence ends in a hint of a question, waiting to see what Danta thought of such an idea – one that would melt the theme from their wedding to the after party.
Astaroth
// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //
