(SE) on the pyre of obsession

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

“Some of our fellow citizens have deemed this as the Grounds’ mountain.” Astaroth muses thoughtfully and a touch sarcastically, making the trek up the expanse of the side of the hill. A bag is slung over his shoulder and he isn’t wearing the multitude of clothing that had been his go to during Deepfrost. Instead, a deep maroon silken shirt is worn, buttoned up to nearly the very top – dressed down enough that the first button is unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up neatly (but it still is certainly tucked into his pants), it’s paired with a pair of black slacks and his usual, well taken care of leather boots.

The sun casts his and Dantalion’s shadow in a long stretch before them and the butcher’s tail waves contently behind him as he continues to speak on the earlier subject, finding amusement in such a topic as this. “I will say it is at best a large hill.” He wasn’t even breaking a sweat making this trek (not that it’s warm or anything). Snow melts in wet droplets around the grasses and the flowers poking through, but it’s warm enough for him to be quite content to make it to the top of this hill to see what all the excitement is about.

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"If this is a mountain, then I live in a mansion," comes Danta's opinion as they stroll up to the top of Peekaboo Rise. Carrying nothing with him but the cigarettes in his pocket, the Maverick is dressed down as well, though it's really just back to his usual attire. Shirtless beneath his (open) coat and clad in a pair of dark suede pants that sit low on his hips, he turns on heel to walk backwards and gaze back down at where they've come.

"There was a Blood Moon Festival up here, shortly before I moved to the Grounds permanently," he realises, tilting his head and grinning at the memory. "It was chaos - I loved it." He got naked, if he remembers, and there had been dancing, skipping and theft. Glorious, all in all.

Turning and increasing his pace so he might walk side by side with Asta, he tilts his head towards the other man. "Any sign of anything purple we need to crush underfoot?" he wonders.

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

Of course the butcher is delighted to hear the same consensus fall from Danta’s lips, the grin spanning his face is stretched wide and impossibly sharper in the sun that filters down through a drifting cloud. The ground here is wet and soggy enough that his boots sink in as he lets his dark gaze linger back on Danta and his usual — quite informal but handsome — attire. “You would loathe living in a mansion, darling.” He comments with a fraction of amusement.

Obviously incredibly intrigued by the memory it sparks with the Maverick, Astaroth’s steps shift to slow him down a bit, giving a chance for the shorter Ancient to catch up, letting a deep chuckle escape him. “Chaotic, mm?” It takes an act of god to pull his gaze away from the blonde, but he starts to scan the top of the large hill as they crest it for anything of note and out of place, or purple for that matter. A hum of no starts to leave his lips until something catches his eye and his shoulder brushes against Danta’s as his hand lifts to pull the Maverick to a stop with him and give a light squeeze.

“That doesn’t appear to belong, what do you think?” He hums with a spark of delight, head over Danta’s shoulder as he points out a tendril-ified tangleweed suddenly darting through the grasses and up the hill, its shadowy and purple appendages tugging and pulling along newly blooming flowers, leaving a wake of dread and darkness in its path.

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"Oh, yeah? How many mansions have you lived in?" Danta quips back, raising his eyebrows at the other man's apparently strong opinion about his living preferences. (In truth the Maverick really has no idea, having lived only in a superheated hovel in The Climb and the Dusklight here in the Grounds). Having to take a second to actually look where he's going based on the waterlogged grass beneath them, Danta does straighten up eventually, and they work dilligently towards the top of the rise.

"Chaotic," he confirms. "I can't decide if you'd have loved or hated it, honestly. Maybe there'll be another soon, and you can find out." The chaos might suit Asta's tastes entirely, but surrendering control? That Danta isn't so sure about.

Either way, the shoulder brushing against his own and the hand drawing him to a halt are enough to put his attention front and centre, where a very violet looking tangleweed seems to be running rampant. "Wow, I hate it." He scoffs. "Let's kill it."

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Your leg, ahh! It’s caught in a bear trap some quicksand moss! Quickly you sink in up to your knee as what you had thought to be just a patch of dry moss begins to slowly devour you. If you aren’t freed in about 30 minutes, you’ll lose the leg.

You’ve encountered Quicksand Moss! It should be fairly easy to escape from, though you might experience lingering pain or swelling in your leg.

Quicksand Moss - Quicksand moss has the appearance of dead moss, although in reality, this brown colour is due to it consuming animals instead of sunlight. It grows anywhere a regular moss or lichen would, but grabs any creature foolish enough to come near and quickly digests them.

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

“Exactly zero, my dear, but I have spent time in them.” Living and witnessing were two completely different things, of course, and if Danta hated Asta’s stuffiness and strict standards, well, mansions certainly wouldn’t suit him in the slightest.

He could be surprised, though.

As it stands, he nods an agreement to finding out just what the next festival may hold, content to find out for himself if it’s his cup of tea, but the sight of the lumbering purple thing coming into their vicinity certainly has distracted him enough from pursuing what Danta had experienced at the last blood moon festival.

A feral grin spreads on his face as he releases Danta, nodding as he hoists the bag up on his shoulder a bit higher, slipping his hand into his pocket for the gifted matchbook to get a source of fire going so they might be able to burn it to ash when he takes a step forward after the Maverick and sinks down to his knee within the tight and restrictive quicksand moss, the matchbook flying from his hands a short distance away as he goes down, a curse escaping his lips as he grits his teeth and is forced to to be shorter than the blonde Ancient — even if temporary.

Already fumbling and having zero balance as the moss starts to try and eat his leg, Astaroth scrambles to try and reach the matchbook he’s launched. “A little help, darling?” He’s rather not use the bloodbane and ruin his shirt, but fuck if it isn’t a bit embarrassing.

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"Shut up, no you didn't." Danta's grin is shit-eating and his tone playful, because he could absolutely be wrong about this. But he hadn't known there to be mansions in The Climb, and he doubts Asta's upbringing granted him entry into mansions prior to becoming an Ancient. Then again, the butcher had been given leave to go much further afield than he, so maybe he'd wormed his way into some noble places in his time.

Either way, it doesn't truly matter, because there's a tangleweed to kill and quicksand moss trying to eat the other man's leg, and Danta pauses in his prowling up the hill to turn around. "You've, uh, got a li'l somethin' there," he points out unhelpfully, chuckling and skidding back down so he can snag the other man's matchbook. "It's okay - watch this."

Turning, Danta aims a finger-gun at the tangleweed, letting a jet of fire erupt with a pulse of his magic to try and set the thing on fire, even as he offers his other hand to Asta to get him unstuck.

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

“Did too.” Comes the jaunty little musical note from his lips – because it had been when he’d ventured off from the Climb, where he’d learned how to dress (because cannibals certainly didn’t have the fashion sense he does), and its where he’d managed to get the tools to learn to read when he was cooped up in his stony room.

But that doesn’t matter as he sinks down and fumbles for the matchbook that’s off too far out of reach for where he then has to struggle to get his fucking leg out of the maw of this horrible moss monstrosity. “Oh, I was not aware.” Asta says, pausing for a moment to look up at him with an unamused look with both hands planted on the soggy, wet grass.

He does watch, dutifully so, as the finger-gun shoots a jet a fire down toward the tangleweed still dreadfully wobbling its way up toward them. It does work, catching on half of the tangleweed with a strange almost other worldly echo of a hiss, and Astaroth is too stunned by his predicament and the awful sensation it gnaws in his stomach that he doesn’t hide how impressed he is by it when Danta offers his hand.

He takes it, and with a few more moments of fighting he does manage to get his leg free, but the dark slacks are shredded on the edges and his leg is decently sore. His nose scrunches and he snags some of the fire from the tangleweed to funnel it into the quicksand moss he’d just vacated, before flashing a charming smile toward Danta with a soft little “thank you. That was quite the trick.” Aka, he wants to see more fancy tricks, Danta.

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"How lucky that you have me here to tell you about these things, then," Danta quips back, before it's all fire and burning void tangleweeds and quicksand moss and the exact sort of chaos the Maverick can thoroughly enjoy. Too bad about the butcher's outfit, though. Bracing enough to help Asta back onto his feet properly, he releases the other man once he's contented himself in destroying the moss that had trapped him.

"I am full of them, darling," he trills to him, doing his best impression of the taller Ancient (it's not great, honestly). But if Asta wants to see more tricks, Danta does have a few, though this next one involves chasing after the burning tangleweed so he might boot it clear off Peekaboo Rise. Listen, not every one of his skills can be eloquent, okay?

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

How lucky he is indeed. (Sarcastic)

Either way, he gets out of his shitty moss-man-eating predicament, and he settles back onto both of his feet, flashing Danta a sharp smile that seems a touch more relaxed now that he’s back to his rightful place of being taller than the Maverick. And with the request (and the smell of the burning meat eating moss), Astaroth steps a few paces after Danta to watch the tricks come to life after the adorably charming mimic of his own choice of phrase.

Which honestly look more like he’s chasing after a chicken that doesn’t want to be caught – zigzagging and bolting after this half burned tendril tangleweed that absolutely was found in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Would you look at that.” Astaroth rumbles, a huff of a laugh leaving the butcher as he – in spite of his sore leg – picks up his pace to join up beside the Maverick, watching the tangleweed launch into the air with a trail of smoke behind it.

And before it gets too far away, Astaroth utilizes some of his own magic, engulfing the creature with flame as it sails in an arc down the side of Peekaboo Rise.

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Dantalion

but you can't be free

Say what you want about the Maverick, but he's fucking enjoying himself up here, whether or not his game of tangleweed football is more accurately described as chicken chasing. Still, he does manage to punt the thing over the gentle arc of the rise in the end, positively beaming to see it engulfed in more flames before incinerating entirely. Only a flurry of ashes is left to float listlessly back down to the grass - and both men conveniently find themselves, now, at the top of Peekaboo with the view sprawling before them.

"It's no mountain, but it's not bad either, right?" Danta says with a hand on his hip, able to spot the Inner Quarter in the distance, the twinkle of the docks, the tangle of the Labyrinth. "I remember when I first saw all this at the festival, I realised just how big the Grounds was. Strange, really, that more people don't move here and take advantage of it."[/say

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

There’s pure delight in Astaroth’s face to spy the flying tangleweed engulf completely in flame as well, watching as it crumbles into ash that’s carried away on a rogue wind down and away from them. It affords him a moment to take in the view, with the golden sun cascading warmth into each nook and cranny from which they can see. “It is not bad.” Astaroth rumbles with a soft agreement, leaning in and nudging Danta’s shoulder with his own before he sets down the bag.

“Truly. My trek to the Black Lake felt as though it took ages.” Comes the gentle dramatic whine before he snorts in spite of it. “My understanding, at least from the Atheneum, is that there are many that cannot get past what the Grounds used to represent.” He shrugs casually before he turns to face the Maverick with a too sharp grin, the sunlight flickering in his own horns to make it appear as though it were on fire. “That simply means there’s more for us, though, doesn’t it, darling?”

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //

Dantalion

but you can't be free

Nudging the other man back, Danta spies the bag that Asta puts down and raises an eyebrow questioningly as if only realising for the first time that the other man has been lugging things around with them. "Going to write poetry about Flowerbirth?" he asks with a bounce of his eyebrows, fully expecting Asta to produce a journal and a quill or something equally as quaint.

As for the Black Lake, it might be dramatic but Danta still nods his vehement agreement. "The sooner we get that new shrine up, the better," he agrees with a lopsided smile in the other man's direction. "And it's definitely their loss, especially these days." What had once been a very hollow place indeed is now filled with warmth and chaos and life. Scoffing out a laugh, on that note, Danta can't help but point.

"You can even see our bonfire, look."

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

“Not quite, darling. A picnic to celebrate the sun’s return.” Obviously.

So saying, while they chatter about the Black Lake and the new shrine’s location, Astaroth is utilizing more fire magic, drying up the ground to not soak through their pants (despite the fact one of his pant legs is already ruined), and he flashes Danta a charmingly sharp grin. “A brilliant beacon. I wonder what it looked like just last week?” He murmurs thoughtfully, as if it were the only light in the darkness for anyone trapped beyond the Inner Quarter.

He settles down, crisscross, reaching up to tug Danta down alongside him only to produce a variety of goodies they can share (human snacks and alcoholic drinks) and with all the taunting and teasing the two of them have up their sleeves mixed with a healthy dose of sunbathing until it starts to get colder again and the trek home seems just as good a time as any.

- FIN <33

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //