Astaroth
// so sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke. sip the gossip, burn down your throat //
Snorting with a hint of exhaustion, Asta sighs a little contently with the idea that she’d left that one in particular because it was the one that changed up the Butcher’s normalcy the most. “That could be.” He admits, humming a little note as he thinks about it. He isn’t one to question her, certainly not after having just seen her in the flesh and been struck by divinity in more ways than one.
His fingers plunge further into Danta’s hair with the loss of his diamond horns, allowing him to quietly massage the space where his horns typically sat as if the skin there might be sore from holding up such precious stone. “That’s good to know.” She hadn’t left him alone since she’d arrived, so he had no way of knowing when the connection might fade or drop off. Not that he’s going to complain having an extra set of eyes (or black, depthless pits) on him to make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble, Asta still needs to get used to it.
A low laugh leaves him as Danta explains what Moira’s up to, a smile stretching across his face while he imagines her rolling through the snow up top of the roof. “Well, I am glad she is enjoying it.” The snow, that is. “Do you think her and Sicarius will get along?” He asks, shifting how he’s laying to drape only halfway across Danta’s chest, bullying his way into keeping an arm wrapped around him while the other continues to run through his golden hair.
His fingers plunge further into Danta’s hair with the loss of his diamond horns, allowing him to quietly massage the space where his horns typically sat as if the skin there might be sore from holding up such precious stone. “That’s good to know.” She hadn’t left him alone since she’d arrived, so he had no way of knowing when the connection might fade or drop off. Not that he’s going to complain having an extra set of eyes (or black, depthless pits) on him to make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble, Asta still needs to get used to it.
A low laugh leaves him as Danta explains what Moira’s up to, a smile stretching across his face while he imagines her rolling through the snow up top of the roof. “Well, I am glad she is enjoying it.” The snow, that is. “Do you think her and Sicarius will get along?” He asks, shifting how he’s laying to drape only halfway across Danta’s chest, bullying his way into keeping an arm wrapped around him while the other continues to run through his golden hair.
// you're not iconic, you are just like them all. don't act like you don't know //
