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Character of the Season
From Attuned to Ascended to Ancient, Kiada Njovu-Reyes has been reborn several times throughout her short life, but her fighting spirit has never once been diminished. With beauty, grace and a quick wit, Kiada is the whole package wrapped in an infectious smile. Recent endeavours have found her in the heart of the Hollowed Grounds, aiding the region and bettering it for her new Ancient kin, and whatever she does next, we know it's sure to pack a punch.
Congratulations, Kiada!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
He carries him with such reverence that it’s almost a wonder that Astaroth isn’t letting himself think about the reasoning for it and the thoughts behind it. His subconscious deciding to treat nice like a dog might, in order to keep the nice thing it’s been given. So they walk and the antler shed is dropped and as Dantalion appreciates the cold, bone white material and promptly ruins it with blood as intended, Astaroth flashes one of those traditional sharp toothed grins. “So large it took both of us to bring it down.” He purrs with confidence.
As they approach the other side of the Domiciles, he does let Danta down, now that it seems like he’s back to his usual self. And he takes the antler back to admire, once noting the people out and about ahead of them. “Of course, my dear.” He drawls, falling into step with the Maverick as they make their approach. “Perhaps we should have kept some of it to make deer jerky?” He suggests loud enough for the people walking up ahead to hear, before holding up the antler and twisting it this way and that. “Though this is quite the trophy, mm?”
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"It's too cold right now to make deer jerky, isn't it?" Danta reasons, his voice also carrying enough for those walking up ahead to hear. And he's more than pleased to realise it's also a couple of Ancients, and so whilst the nature of the hunt is still best kept a secret, their being covered head to toe in blood is likely less alarming than it would be to any other race.
"It beats the trophies I got earlier. Mouse tails aren't quite as regal." Again, also true, and he offers a nod to the couple as they pass by, one that's easily returned, allowing them to go on their way. "I hate deer jerky, by the by," the Maverick adds through a chuckle once they're out of earshot, the performance a success and the antlers doing their job.
It doesn't take too long after that to get back to The Last Whisper, though it's pitch black and snowing by that point, and Danta buttons his coat not just to cover most of the blood, but so as not to alarm the patrons of the Dusklight either.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“Mm, probably.” His nose wrinkles as he thinks about it. “Maybe not if it were hung in a warm and dry room?” He suggests, trying to recall things they might have done in Whitebrim to keep food for as long as possible. Either way, the pair they pass are also Ancients, and Astaroth nods his chin toward them in a quiet greeting as well as they pass.
The comment made when out of earshot has a low chuckle slipping from the butcher, though. A soft “you wound me” of dramatics over it before he continues. “I happen to enjoy it quite a lot.” Because it was more nostalgia than anything. If people weren’t around, deer were in full. And there were seasons he can remember where he specifically (as a scout) had to suffer through with it, before someone got the bright idea to start eating each other. (Read. Sarcasm.)
Anyway, Asta tries to hide as much of the blood as he can as well before delving into the Dusklight, and for the most part it has dried in the trek by the bonfire enough he can try to sluff it off and not have it be so visible the second the heat hits them. “Your room or mine?” He asks, leaning down toward Danta gently, content either way (but knowing he didn’t want to leave Danta alone tonight).
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"Or covered in salt, I suppose," Danta says with a wrinkle of his nose, not that he is interested in the slightest in how one would manage to preserve food if needed. (And yes, for a man left starving, he's still a remarkably picky eater when it isn't hunted down and raw). It at least explains his laughter in the face of Asta's dramatics, the Maverick shaking his head and not trying to understand the butcher's preferences, nostalgic or otherwise.
Inclining his head to the worker that opens the door for them before leaning in towards Asta to hear his question, Danta considers for a moment before nodding towards the corridor that would lead to the butcher's room. "Yours," he decides, for reasons that likely make sense only to him. Either way, it's without, for once, ordering any wine to bring with them that he's already making his way towards Asta's door, lingering outside and waiting for him to let them into the familiar warmth and privacy.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Salt would work, as it turns out, but the conversation drops and Asta’s content to let it lie there. It was all for the lie, anyway, so might as well leave it. And with it, the warmth of the Dusklight warms his suddenly frigid bones, he’s quite glad that his adrenaline and thoughts had kept him from thinking about the chill. It doesn’t matter anymore, though, because that typical grin is offered to the worker and he feels quite more alive this time than he had this morning.
With the determination made and Danta’s sure steps heading toward his room, Astaroth reaches into his pocket after juggling the antler to get to his key, unlocking and opening it up for the Maverick to enter. “Make yourself comfortable.” The butcher hums, knowing that he doesn’t need to say it for Danta to do exactly that. But he busies himself with taking off the coat over him, setting the antler down on a table beside where the cane is propped up, and pauses before the fire to warm up, letting his hands linger on the dried blood against his skin in careful, nearly reverent strokes.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
It's true - Astaroth doesn't have to tell him twice, and the Maverick is already peeling off his bloody coat as well as they enter the room, hanging it somewhere that it might not get in the way. Unlike his counterpart, though, he doesn't approach the fire to enjoy the warmth and the drying crimson on his skin, opting instead to shimmy out of the rest of his clothes.
(Listen, blood is all fun and games until it starts to freeze, okay?)
Left in his underwear and feeling both better and worse for it, Danta approaches Asta so he might lean against his back and leech his warmth, chin resting over his shoulder. "Come to bed," he mumbles into the fabric of his collar, and though the words might be taken as suggestive to some, as an Ancient the theocrat really is only after the heat and the comfort offered by proximity to another body.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Hands roam along the dried blood on his skin, before he starts to unbutton his shirt, opening it up and half tugging it down as his shoulders become visable. It’s precisely the time Danta’s arms wrap around his middle and his chin presses over his shoulder. Asta’s arms slip around the other man’s arms, humming lightly to the request before his head tilts to press against the side of the Maverick’s head.
“I will.” He murmurs, tail brushing against Danta’s side as he shifts to move, staying in the blonde’s arms, twisting to face him and press his fire heated chest into the other man. Hands rise to run along Danta’s bare shoulders, guiding up to cup his sharp jaw, dark eyes scanning the blood dried to his skin. He says nothing else, but instead walks Danta back toward the bed until he can sit and offer some movement for Asta to shed out of his blood soaked clothes, caring little for folding them for once (a clear sign of his relaxation and contentness), and instead leaving them as a pile on the floor by the corner of the bed.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
Leeching away at the offered warmth and leaning into the hands that cup his jaw, it's with sleepy acquiescence that Danta is ferried back towards the bed, plopping down onto it and giving Asta the space to shed his own clothes. And it's likely more of a surprise for the Maverick to see the garments left unfolded, Danta blinking at the pile of clothes and then gazing back at the butcher as if perhaps something is very wrong rather than right.
"Are you..." he begins with a furrowed brow, before deciding against it. He hasn't got the brainpower for the conversation, let alone what it might mean either way, and so it's with a flick of his tail that he drags back the blankets and furs and disappears beneath them instead, fully expectant that the other man will follow.
"I'm tired of Deepfrost," he decides, his voice muffled. And it's not even gotten to Longnight yet.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Whether or not Danta’s up for the conversation, the slip is enough for the butcher to crawl into the bed after, hands strong and grabby for the other man to pull against him and curl his tail around Danta’s leg. “Am I what?” He asks quietly, muffled slightly by the blankets, but ignoring it in favor for trying to position them so that he can half bury his face in against the blonde’s, eyes closing easily as he relishes the moment of peace.
“I am too.” He sighs with a bit of unwarranted nostalgia. “I spent half my life in snow, I really would prefer to never have to deal with it again.” He drawls with a slight wrinkle of his nose, pressing his face in harder.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"Are you okay," Danta mumbles, his voice completely muffled as well beneath the blankets and against the other man. Shifting only fractionally to get comfortable - already the heat of their two bodies beneath the weight of the furs is enough to have his eyes slipping shut, when the Maverick speaks again it's with his lips pressed against Asta's throat. "You're usually very picky about your clothes," he adds for context.
As for the cold, Danta's nose wrinkles as he remembers that the butcher is not, in fact, a native of the Climb - and it's truly a testament to the other man that he forgets it so regularly. "Next we should ask Dygra for a dome to keep the snow out," he decides. You know, because in a world where The Family can waltz in anywhere and at any time, he at least wants to be comfortable if they're all going to die.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“I am perfectly fine, darling.” He drawls, content to settle with Danta’s lips pressed into his throat. His head tilts a little, horns pressing against the pillows as he angles enough to not cause a cascade of feathers to bloom from them like last time. “I’m simply too comfortable to care.” He murmurs after a second, as if the explanation works well enough and won’t spark more questions.
Like since when have you ever been comfortable enough to not care?
Anyway, Danta will feel the tug of the smile that blossoms at the mention of the dome to keep snow out, like the exact opposite of a snow globe, and his tail tightens in a small amount of delight as his arms do the same. “That sounds brilliant.” Finding support easily in anything that keeps them safe and comfortable, especially with the threat they’re faced with.
in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
Indeed, if Danta hadn't found himself in this particular mood and under these particular circumstances, such questions would certainly be needling on his tongue, if for no other reason than to yank Asta's chain. But with warmth and darkness pressing in all around and the thunder of a pulse against his lips, the Maverick merely hums something that's curious but non-committal, happy to let the matter lie.
For now, anyway.
"Mm, doesn't it," he agrees about their no-snow globe, smirking and letting out a long, deep sigh. And before long it isn't only the butcher who is content enough not to care, and Danta falls into a deep and dreamless sleep punctuated only by the occasional flick of his tail or twitch of his lips against Asta's throat. Whatever he might be saying, though, is of no one's concern but the Maverick's.
~FIN
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
