// nothing is as simple, I worship, you're my temple //
They do cut a striking figure en route to the Peekaboo Rise. Asta with his height, bundled up against the cold, the cane that glints in its multi-hued metals that make up the bladed bottom half. Posture perfect as ever, his shoulders broad and straight enough to be a good perch – if Danta chose to stay there. The wind is something that bites against them, each gust one that’s progressively colder feeling, and Asta’s tail flicks in irritation of it as he tries to retain some semblance of heat.
Of course, it’s about this time that Danta’s bullying his way into his collar, too. The wind has knocked some of his hair loose from where he’d swept it back, leaving a part of it falling into his face opposite of where he currently is trying to readjust his head enough for Danta to fit his smaller, feathered body into whatever space there was between his neck and his shoulder. He’s managed to do a pretty decent job given the room he was working with, and with each little nibble behind his ear, Asta shivers a little with the sensation.
The Butcher wasn’t ticklish, traditionally, but something about the way Danta’s beak scratches has him a little more jumpy than normal. “At this rate, you may as well just bite.” He says after the third time he’s shiver-flinched, huffing a warm laugh as they step up the hill, keeping his dark eyes peeled for any movement. "It tickles, darling."
Of course, it’s about this time that Danta’s bullying his way into his collar, too. The wind has knocked some of his hair loose from where he’d swept it back, leaving a part of it falling into his face opposite of where he currently is trying to readjust his head enough for Danta to fit his smaller, feathered body into whatever space there was between his neck and his shoulder. He’s managed to do a pretty decent job given the room he was working with, and with each little nibble behind his ear, Asta shivers a little with the sensation.
The Butcher wasn’t ticklish, traditionally, but something about the way Danta’s beak scratches has him a little more jumpy than normal. “At this rate, you may as well just bite.” He says after the third time he’s shiver-flinched, huffing a warm laugh as they step up the hill, keeping his dark eyes peeled for any movement. "It tickles, darling."
Astaroth
// and heaven, hold your gates open, all the hell we've been through //
