// we can't see the end from the start //
It’s cold, though not too cold being this close to the bonfire. It’s enough that Asta doesn’t need to wear that coat that wards away the cold, instead he settles there in the middle of the cobblestones, peering up at the Temple and all her glory with an amused smile to his face. “It is not too gaudy.” He mutters under his breath toward Danta, his tail flicking behind him in amusement and playful offense.
It’s because after his current suggestion of adorning the pillars outside with the scorch blossoms, he’d heard someone pass by behind them absolutely believing they were talking quiet enough to not be heard, make some comment about how that could be too much. Though, it becomes very obvious they don’t know the two standing before the Temple, nor the occasion of such an event. Tourists, perhaps.
Asta turns his attention back toward the paper he’d brought with all their notes on it, scanning over it before peering back at the Temple. “Also, I think I may have gotten some of the proportions wrong.” Holding it between Danta and himself to compare, the size of the scorch blossom arches and ribbons were just the tiniest bit off from where they would sit on the Temple in reality. It’s hardly enough to notice, but enough for the Butcher to find some form of complaint.
It’s because after his current suggestion of adorning the pillars outside with the scorch blossoms, he’d heard someone pass by behind them absolutely believing they were talking quiet enough to not be heard, make some comment about how that could be too much. Though, it becomes very obvious they don’t know the two standing before the Temple, nor the occasion of such an event. Tourists, perhaps.
Asta turns his attention back toward the paper he’d brought with all their notes on it, scanning over it before peering back at the Temple. “Also, I think I may have gotten some of the proportions wrong.” Holding it between Danta and himself to compare, the size of the scorch blossom arches and ribbons were just the tiniest bit off from where they would sit on the Temple in reality. It’s hardly enough to notice, but enough for the Butcher to find some form of complaint.
Astaroth
// but i don't fear the dark //
