// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //
“Oh, I see.” The butcher drawls with all the dramatics of someone who could have been an actor in another life. “You make a valid point.” He murmurs as he starts to shed Danta from his clothes and only when he’s completely free does Asta swap who holds the bottle as the wine starts to warm him internally and he begins to shed himself of all of his own clothes.
This takes a bit longer of time than Danta’s did, with each article of clothing folded and set aside. “Gods those were such beautiful bones. And I am quite skilled, thank you.” His tone is nearly dreamy with the thought of it and none of the logistics behind how exactly he’d get it home. Regardless, that’s a thought for later, because as Asta joins Danta in the wearing nothing but their scars (and his trauma bracelet), the butcher approaches the fireplace with eyes only for his fiancé.
He doesn’t join him just yet, but simply admires the way the fire licks at each curve and sharp point of the Maverick’s body, the way it embraces him wholly like he’s the king of the embers. Asta supposes he is, born from the chaos, blood, and fire as he is, but the way it molds and plays around his body and illuminates the diamond horns in a brilliant display of rainbow hues almost has his breath caught in his throat – stunning him enough that he has to remember himself and set the bottle of wine down off to the side to not heat it up too much.
And only then does the butcher join the Maverick in the hearth, draping over him like a blanket to greet the flames and the absolute heat that’s already absorbed in his fiance’s body like he's trying to steal it from him.
This takes a bit longer of time than Danta’s did, with each article of clothing folded and set aside. “Gods those were such beautiful bones. And I am quite skilled, thank you.” His tone is nearly dreamy with the thought of it and none of the logistics behind how exactly he’d get it home. Regardless, that’s a thought for later, because as Asta joins Danta in the wearing nothing but their scars (and his trauma bracelet), the butcher approaches the fireplace with eyes only for his fiancé.
He doesn’t join him just yet, but simply admires the way the fire licks at each curve and sharp point of the Maverick’s body, the way it embraces him wholly like he’s the king of the embers. Asta supposes he is, born from the chaos, blood, and fire as he is, but the way it molds and plays around his body and illuminates the diamond horns in a brilliant display of rainbow hues almost has his breath caught in his throat – stunning him enough that he has to remember himself and set the bottle of wine down off to the side to not heat it up too much.
And only then does the butcher join the Maverick in the hearth, draping over him like a blanket to greet the flames and the absolute heat that’s already absorbed in his fiance’s body like he's trying to steal it from him.
Astaroth
// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //
