// and rise with me forever across the silent sand //
Quietly grateful for the way Danta reburies his face into his neck, because it means that he won’t see the twitch of a frown on the corner of his lips to hear the apology leave his fiance’s lips. “No need to be sorry, Wasp.” Comes the soft rumble, encouraging and hopeful that Danta might realize more so now than ever if there was something Danta wanted to do, Asta would be his right hand. Even if it were something that he typically despised.
It just goes to show how much he loves him, he imagines. “Ah, yes, certainly the crab legs.” It wouldn’t be a seafood boil without it, honestly. And while they walk, he’s already imagining the scents and the mess of it, bolstering his expectation enough that when they reach the main drag of Haulani, he continues to happily carry the Maverick until they reach the doors of the seafood boil restaurant. Setting him down and wrapping an arm around him protectively, Asta steps up to claim their seat within.
There’s looks – at Danta, mostly, but with a dark glance from the Butcher to each respective one (full of silent promises of violence should they not allow the Maverick to dine in with them). It works well enough, because they manage a seat deep within by the balcony area, nearest to a flickering flame of a wall sconce and a perfect view of the grey sunset over thrashing Deepfrost waves. “See? Easy, darling.” He purrs, choosing to sit beside Danta rather than across from him, as if he too can’t stand the idea of being too far from him. The interior is lively and vibrant with crowds of people within, the sound of merriment and the low thrum of music intertwines in a cacophony of life in a way that was different than the Dusklight at its bare bones, but similar enough to prove to Danta he wouldn't find himself trapped alone and in the dark, especially not with the possessive arm that still sits around his waist.
When the waiter comes, it’s quick and with all the trinkets they’ll need for the seafood boil – a platter of utensils and warm citrus scented rags. And with an almost too bright smile of greeting, she tells them both that if they need more of the cleaning rags, she can get them in a jiffy.
It just goes to show how much he loves him, he imagines. “Ah, yes, certainly the crab legs.” It wouldn’t be a seafood boil without it, honestly. And while they walk, he’s already imagining the scents and the mess of it, bolstering his expectation enough that when they reach the main drag of Haulani, he continues to happily carry the Maverick until they reach the doors of the seafood boil restaurant. Setting him down and wrapping an arm around him protectively, Asta steps up to claim their seat within.
There’s looks – at Danta, mostly, but with a dark glance from the Butcher to each respective one (full of silent promises of violence should they not allow the Maverick to dine in with them). It works well enough, because they manage a seat deep within by the balcony area, nearest to a flickering flame of a wall sconce and a perfect view of the grey sunset over thrashing Deepfrost waves. “See? Easy, darling.” He purrs, choosing to sit beside Danta rather than across from him, as if he too can’t stand the idea of being too far from him. The interior is lively and vibrant with crowds of people within, the sound of merriment and the low thrum of music intertwines in a cacophony of life in a way that was different than the Dusklight at its bare bones, but similar enough to prove to Danta he wouldn't find himself trapped alone and in the dark, especially not with the possessive arm that still sits around his waist.
When the waiter comes, it’s quick and with all the trinkets they’ll need for the seafood boil – a platter of utensils and warm citrus scented rags. And with an almost too bright smile of greeting, she tells them both that if they need more of the cleaning rags, she can get them in a jiffy.
Astaroth
// and the stars will be your eyes and the wind will be my hands //
