// i saw the walls, finished and plain //
“Ohho.” The Butcher grins as he begins to unveil the blanket and spread it out across the grass and sand. “That can be arranged, darling.” We’ll see if it’s an endeavor for today or if it’s just one of the things they get up to on this Torchline vacation. They have plenty of time, after all. And as Danta’s ego thanks him, a cheshire grin is aimed back at his fiancé once he settles into the blanket, kneeling there to peer up at him and beckon him closer as though he and the blanket were a siren song he knows the Maverick won’t be able to resist.
Only half following the rules that Danta silently sets – he watches him rummage and only gets bits and pieces of what the surprise is that the other Ancient has up his sleeves. “Melt?” He asks, uncertain what could melt when it was cold out like this, not at all imagining that they’d have ice to worry about – unless turning to stone in some kind of silent suicide pact reminiscent of the horror story they’d told each other was occurring.
Subconsciously, the Butcher glances around for any creature that might try to lure them deep into the caves before Danta’s turning back to him with shot glasses made from ice and a lovely drink sat within the hollowed-out interior of the glass. His head tilts, reaching out to snag one so that both of Danta’s hands don’t harden into a statue. “Ice… during Deepfrost?” The Butcher asks, lips quirking slightly as he glances up from it to Danta with a soft laugh that vibrates from his throat. “Alright then, are we toasting to the stars or to ourselves?” He asks, raising his glass toward Danta’s for him to decide what they toast to before taking the shot.
Only half following the rules that Danta silently sets – he watches him rummage and only gets bits and pieces of what the surprise is that the other Ancient has up his sleeves. “Melt?” He asks, uncertain what could melt when it was cold out like this, not at all imagining that they’d have ice to worry about – unless turning to stone in some kind of silent suicide pact reminiscent of the horror story they’d told each other was occurring.
Subconsciously, the Butcher glances around for any creature that might try to lure them deep into the caves before Danta’s turning back to him with shot glasses made from ice and a lovely drink sat within the hollowed-out interior of the glass. His head tilts, reaching out to snag one so that both of Danta’s hands don’t harden into a statue. “Ice… during Deepfrost?” The Butcher asks, lips quirking slightly as he glances up from it to Danta with a soft laugh that vibrates from his throat. “Alright then, are we toasting to the stars or to ourselves?” He asks, raising his glass toward Danta’s for him to decide what they toast to before taking the shot.
Astaroth
// lavender blooms on the ink of my name //
