Astaroth
// so sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke. sip the gossip, burn down your throat //
“Good. Someone has to be, wouldn’t you say?” The Butcher murmurs, distracted comfortably by the fangless grin, the way it makes his fiancé look so normal in comparison. He might have assumed he was, were it not for the content and quiet mischief that still graces his face. His fingers continue their slow little strokes as Danta sparks fire along them, cleaning up the evidence of their celebration for the most part.
Asta rests a little easier, though, leaning in to press his lips in soft kisses against the sharp jut of Danta’s shoulder. “Good.” The smile peeks up on his face, affection sinking into the brown of his eyes, like the fire of the day’s events have reached each and every inch of him inside, glowing internally. “I have not had her long, but she is infatuated with you too.” He hums, able to cast a glance down toward the bone dragon, where Sicarius has already succumbed to sleep with her belly in the air (or crevice of bones?) and one boney paw crossing along her chest, out like a light with soft snores and little dark puffs of smoke slipping through her nose.
Asta rests a little easier, though, leaning in to press his lips in soft kisses against the sharp jut of Danta’s shoulder. “Good.” The smile peeks up on his face, affection sinking into the brown of his eyes, like the fire of the day’s events have reached each and every inch of him inside, glowing internally. “I have not had her long, but she is infatuated with you too.” He hums, able to cast a glance down toward the bone dragon, where Sicarius has already succumbed to sleep with her belly in the air (or crevice of bones?) and one boney paw crossing along her chest, out like a light with soft snores and little dark puffs of smoke slipping through her nose.
// you're not iconic, you are just like them all. don't act like you don't know //
