@TermnatorBarbie Overcame by a bashful shade of rose, he'd hide his face against her stomach.
❝ You think so? ❞
This was the first time he's ever shed his mask in general, but when in Peach's presence, he yielded to the safety she created.
@TermnatorBarbie & willfully did he throw himself into her brick wall like stature, hugging her waist tight whilst sat on his knees.
❝ I've missed you. ❞ Masked visage nuzzles her hips, hugging her even tighter.
Interesting development. He'll make a mentel note of these supposed not suitable for work exchanges, to question upon them later when in a better situation.
No need, he can show her to them. He'd like to witness their demise, they've been a crude thorn for too long.
Saying it now would be too.. NSFW. Her performance in public is more than satisfactory, Molly won’t sabotage it but say rather indecent things.
Give her a list of said individuals. They will be dealt with accordingly.
Oh can she? Color him curious as to what her mind has thought up.
Good. Hopefully she still has a sizeable appetite. He wants these few individuals rid of as soon as possible.
She threatened to eat him?? If she wanted chased, she could've just asked~. He isn't on the menu, he's by no means edible. But does she want to know what is? Or so, who* is? He's had a pesky passerby as of late, & though he was going to deal with them a girl's gotta eat, right?
His head ushers small nod, hardly distinguishable in hopes to limit disturbing her. He could feel her body tremble, hear the quiver to her voice.
❝ You needn't be strong with me. ❞ A hand touches her chin, then glides along her cheeks in an effort to clear any possible tears.
Peach notices his form appearing, head raising.
“It was just a nightmare. Nothing to get worked up over.” She says, trying to sound better than she was. She was visibly shaking.
He's manifesting from a wisp of darkness collected in her bedroom's corner. Not a word was spoken as he closed the gap, securing a protective hold around her frame.
❝ It's okay. Take a deep breath. ❞
take shape. Vague at first, Deacon's proportions soon emerged, his ornate mask casting twinkles against peaking moonlight. He'd hold up two bottles per hand, wiggling them every so slightly, hoping to arouse a bit of excitement from an otherwise sad soul.
That's both endearing & tragic. She's a poem just waiting to be printed on one's ribs. The more he learns of her the more he's certain in his beliefs. Good thing he has already begun with her name, so now every time he breathes, its in the tune of her name. She can remedy the +
melody with every fact she speaks, be they harsh or gentle. He'll cherish all her tired secrets, he'll be a raven & keep them well hidden from the world until she sets them free like doves.
Wisps of inky tendrils pull inward, rolling upwards as a large silhouette begins to +