// Greed won't rest 'til he's crowned as a king //
It is what he always says – and the truth is, he always has. Still breathing, heart still beating, even if he’s sluggishly bleeding out. He’s grateful for the heat of the fire in the room with them, though, and he leans heavily against the arm rest of the chair as Danta puts two and two together and the butcher can’t help but to shoot a playful grin back at him even at the expense of another sluggish drip of blood down his chin, disappearing into his dark beard. “It is. Lovely, no?” He lets his gaze linger on his fiancé as the relief swells through him upon finding the flask of wine, admiration lingering deep in the confines of his dark gaze.
As he returns, though, Asta shifts a little to face him better, to let him be fussed over. “Mm, unfortunately. I thought perhaps it would be easier given similar footing–” if they both were Ancients, that is. “–only to be surprised with a ram shift.” He deflates with slightly pained dramatics, ignoring the flask for the moment to reach up and brush his fingers along the smooth shaven side of his head.
He presses into the kiss gingerly, withdrawing to finally take the flask in his hand, uncapping it and giving it a swig with quiet delight (evident in the way his tail goes from flitting like an annoyed cat to a slow wag). “Gods, this is fantastic.” The butcher hums, feeling the effects of the healing wine start to close up his lip and the wound above his eyebrow, and eventually making its way down to his leg that’s still tender behind the torn pant leg. “Thank you, darling.” He murmurs, capping the wine after another sip just to ensure he’s all set before he’s reaching up to tug Danta down toward him for a real kiss – still bloody, but far less painful.
As he returns, though, Asta shifts a little to face him better, to let him be fussed over. “Mm, unfortunately. I thought perhaps it would be easier given similar footing–” if they both were Ancients, that is. “–only to be surprised with a ram shift.” He deflates with slightly pained dramatics, ignoring the flask for the moment to reach up and brush his fingers along the smooth shaven side of his head.
He presses into the kiss gingerly, withdrawing to finally take the flask in his hand, uncapping it and giving it a swig with quiet delight (evident in the way his tail goes from flitting like an annoyed cat to a slow wag). “Gods, this is fantastic.” The butcher hums, feeling the effects of the healing wine start to close up his lip and the wound above his eyebrow, and eventually making its way down to his leg that’s still tender behind the torn pant leg. “Thank you, darling.” He murmurs, capping the wine after another sip just to ensure he’s all set before he’s reaching up to tug Danta down toward him for a real kiss – still bloody, but far less painful.
Astaroth
// From the land to the sea, he'll take all that he needs //
