// when it feels like all the world is wearing a frown //
Asta, too, is so ready for Deepfrost when it arrives. He can feel it the night before as it tugs at him, fingers sticking into each and every movement and keeping it from being as fluid and intense as he’d like it to be. And the nights worth of sleep when it comes is deep. So deep, in fact, that Danta manages to get away with everything in the morning without a single bit of movement from the butcher apart from his breathing.
He’s curled toward the space that Danta had departed, one arm and leg over the covers, face half smooshed into the pillow and curved down enough to keep the horns from scraping against the headboard (though the evidence of it in the past still linger), his tail is draped across the floor opposite of the entrance of the den, and his dark hair – slightly tangled from the night before – fans out behind him and tucked in against his neck.
Even the scent of food and tea aren’t enough to wake him, but it is enough to have him sleepily snagging one of the furs and pulling it completely over him like he can blot out whatever’s happening in his subconscious. It’s how Danta finds him when he comes in and pulls the drapes back, the soft little hey and the search party beneath the blankets to scout him out. He doesn’t rouse immediately, instead, it’s just enough to have him stretching out and flattening under the blanket, his tail drawing up from where the spaded tip had rested against the floor. It’s colder than the rest of him is as it sweeps across under the blankets to snag Danta – and only when there’s contact made does Asta sleepily move to corral the Maverick in his embrace like he’s a stuffed animal the butcher finally found to cuddle up with. And all he can really offer is the barely there – still not clearly awake – “Mm..?”
He’s curled toward the space that Danta had departed, one arm and leg over the covers, face half smooshed into the pillow and curved down enough to keep the horns from scraping against the headboard (though the evidence of it in the past still linger), his tail is draped across the floor opposite of the entrance of the den, and his dark hair – slightly tangled from the night before – fans out behind him and tucked in against his neck.
Even the scent of food and tea aren’t enough to wake him, but it is enough to have him sleepily snagging one of the furs and pulling it completely over him like he can blot out whatever’s happening in his subconscious. It’s how Danta finds him when he comes in and pulls the drapes back, the soft little hey and the search party beneath the blankets to scout him out. He doesn’t rouse immediately, instead, it’s just enough to have him stretching out and flattening under the blanket, his tail drawing up from where the spaded tip had rested against the floor. It’s colder than the rest of him is as it sweeps across under the blankets to snag Danta – and only when there’s contact made does Asta sleepily move to corral the Maverick in his embrace like he’s a stuffed animal the butcher finally found to cuddle up with. And all he can really offer is the barely there – still not clearly awake – “Mm..?”
Astaroth
// put a smile on and spread it around //
