run boy run

we're born at night, so much of our life

The afternoon passes quickly for Danta. After their lunch at the tavern it had been more work to come, and hard labour at that - ferrying lumber and holding boards and posts in place to assist in rebuilding part of the docks, and by the time they're released from their duties he is more than ready to get the fuck out of Jack Tar. Despite the fatigue dragging at his bones, he'd promised Asta they'd get back to their own bed even if it took all night, and besides, he has a feeling his lover will need the space to run and let off steam after a day on his best behaviour.

And so Danta has exchanged long limbs for dark feathers, taking to the skies the moment they are free of the last cluster of buildings for miles. Letting out an echoing caw of invitation, he circles low for now, wings spread wide as he waits for the butcher to set the pace. If he wants to run and run hard, the Maverick is content to catch a thermal and soar higher to keep up.

Dantalion

is just carvin' through the dark

if you could find your way inside
you'd have to find a way to stay alive

Where the afternoon has passed quickly for his lover, for the butcher it had dragged on and on. Mainly because he’s been so focused on trying to keep his behavior under wraps, being as polite as can be despite the daggers he glares. But it’s finally over and with a stretch of his arms as they step away from the docks they’d spent the entire day at, he still harbors restlessness despite the sore muscles from heaving heavy items.

So once Danta shifts to his crow shift, the butcher’s slipping into the very thing that’s got him so wound up this season. Horns extend out into a large and long pronged shift, fire curling around each of the tines, and four hooves that strike the earth with purpose rather than playfulness. Dark eyes catch the glint of Danta above him, and with a soft little bleat that’s just as daring and challenging as anything he might have said verbally might be, the butcher’s muscles coil before he launches himself down the path away from Jack Tar.

The fire dips low against his horns in low burning blue that flanks the dark tines where his head is lowered upon his charge, and it seems very clear that he isn’t impeded by the flares of soreness in his joints and bones with the relief that blooms from unleashing the fierw.

Astaroth

welcome to the show, come show me in

we're born at night, so much of our life

It's the first time that Danta has properly seen Asta's feirw shift in action, and he trills a welcome little note to see his lover exchange his usual black obsidian horns for fiery antlers. The beat of his hooves upon the earth carry up towards the crow as he freewheels overhead, and as the butcher's head lowers and he charges, little more than a flickering streak across the darkening plains, the Maverick takes sheer delight in following.

Tucking his wings in close to arrow into a dive, he gains enough speed to bring himself beside Asta before he lets his feathers catch him, lifting enough that he can swoop over the feirw's head. Letting out another croak of greeting, this time it's laced with a similar challenge, a playful race me, then.

Dantalion

is just carvin' through the dark

if you could find your way inside
you'd have to find a way to stay alive

The wind feels cool yet full of relief as it threads through his fur, parting portions of the thicker scarf-like dark fur around his neck. Beneath the flatter fur along his side and hips it’s easy to tell the muscles that are currently working, bunching and relieving with each continuous push of the butcher’s hooves. He’s very much aware of the gore crow above him, though, this time thankfully not from fear but from his quiet personal challenge.

One that he’s delighted in seeing returned as Danta lowers himself toward his head. The antlered head of the feirw lifts and tosses a little, flame dancing around his tines before the wind kicks it down again and he bleats a playful sound in response to the agreement of the challenge.

And then he kicks it up a notch, hopping over a fallen tree in the walkway that hasn’t been cleared yet, the butcher lands and speeds up again, the sound of his hooves thundering and his breaths deep and focused as he takes the challenge to heart in trying to win.

Astaroth

welcome to the show, come show me in

we're born at night, so much of our life

A very different creature in the sky compared to Asta on the ground, Danta can do little more than watch in awe as the butcher kicks himself into another gear, streaking through the tall grasses and thundering across the earth as if in pursuit of something he can't fathom. Because despite the feirw being a prey shift, no part of Danta sees his lover that way. He isn't being chased - he's doing the chasing - and it's with a hard beat of his wings that he's forced to take to higher air.

Catching a thermal to allow him to glide overhead, it's with a steady tailwind that Danta manages to keep track of Asta far below. They cross fields, plains, bone bridges and more, though it will be hours yet before they even come close to the Inner Quarter. And if Asta wants to stop and sleep in his shift beneath the naked sky, Danta has no problem with that - but he'll fly for as long as the other man wants to run.

Dantalion

is just carvin' through the dark

if you could find your way inside
you'd have to find a way to stay alive

While he would stubbornly try to continue at this pace, he does know better. And he knows that once he’s passed through the fields and plains, across the bone bridges with the echoing clack of his hooves, that if he continues on for too much longer he very well might not be able to move the next day. So, rather than completely ruin any chance at recovery, the butcher’s intense speed starts to slow.

He tilts his head up to spot the gore crow high above him, coasting on the winds and with a bleating sound through heaving, panting breaths, the butcher’s path diverts into the trees, searching for a space he might be able to catch a quick nap at the very least. The fire returns in a blooming beacon against his horns, drifting through until he finds a patch of dirt free from any predators (aside from themselves), and with a moment of scratching up the ground to carve out a space, the butcher sinks down into the upturned dirt and can finally start to catch his breath. Having let out enough steam in this shift to do so comfortably, the exhaustion pulls at him far heavier than it has all season, much to his pleased surprise.

Astaroth

welcome to the show, come show me in

we're born at night, so much of our life

Danta is unashamedly lucky far above the butcher - he expends very little energy whilst gliding, and if the other man had a flighted shift as well, perhaps they might have been able to continue onward until the Inner Quarter was in sight. Alas, given that it isn't the case (and he still doesn't like the idea of Asta riding him as a dragon with nothing but hopes and dreams to hold on with), as the sound from far below reaches him, Danta glances down with beady eyes in time to track the feirw's diversion into the woods.

Plummeting into a smooth dive and catching himself on a few quick beats of his wings, the Maverick darts through the trees and hops, in some areas, from branch to branch, until he finds his lover getting comfortable. Cawing to him, he flutters down to the ground to investigate for a few moments, before taking himself up onto the low bough of a tree hanging overhead.

Chirping the equivalent of a goodnight, Danta is content to tuck his head beneath his wing and snooze, either until Asta is ready to move again, or until the sun rises.

~FIN

Dantalion

is just carvin' through the dark