no one left to kill in the sky

// you know that this could be your last day here on earth //

There is absolutely no water around for what feels like miles (and likely is such a possibility). Though Asta doesn’t seem to mind, not as he squints through the glaring sun that beats down on them, soaking in heavily into the black plates of his dragon shift. He still needed to learn how to best utilize this shift, and with that thought lingering in his mind he’d convinced Danta to join him – more lessons, more practice, and thankfully in a space where it would be far less likely for him to crash into a building or a jut of rocks and cliff faces in the Climb.

This space was safer, easier to glide without immediately crashing into or off of something. His gaze glances over toward his fiancé, wings shifting and shaking out a little before he’s stretching them out to test and warm up, just as Danta had instructed the last time they’d done this. It had worn him out the last time, though with all of the brazenness of Leafchange, he’s fairly certain he can manage this one before shifting to something else to make their adventure a bit less like there was a black dragon infestation the desert.

A snort leaves the scarred dragon, a low rumble of a thing as his angled head juts toward the flat expanse ahead of them, almost as if asking if he should get started.

Astaroth

// so buddy please, won't you smile just for me //

// fire on the mountain, run, boys, run //

Asta is warming up and surveying the parched, cracked ground, and Danta is - of course - being his usually chaotic self by prowling around him. Smaller and more agile than the hulking, scarred reptile he'll one day call his husband, he's almost catlike in his pursuit of a tiny lizard, snapping his jaws at the thing as it escapes into a bolthole nearby. Snorfling in annoyance to see it escape his clutches, he turns his attention back to Asta and snorts right back, wings stretching and flexing as he prepares to take off.

Still, it doesn't stop Danta from affectionately headbutting the fearsome dragon on his way past, before he leaps skywards with a few strong beats of his wings. Catching a thermal and propelling himself further up into the endless blue, the Maverick was clearly made for flighted shifts like these, and he's already beginning to circle overhead as he waits for his lover to join him.

Dantalion

// the devil's in the house of the risin' sun //

// you know that this could be your last day here on earth //

Distracted only from the warm up as he watches the lizard vanish into the underground, little specks of dust flare up from the snorfle that Danta soon does after – and if there was an equivalent to an amused reptile, the butcher’s broad face would show as such. Catlike as he returns back to his side, Asta huffs a smoky breath as he nuzzles the Maverick back, then watches with easy appreciation as he leaps skyward and those long wings catch the sunlight, painting the ground in a hue of black and orange.

Right. He seems to tell himself, almost as if he consistently forgets how much Danta has an affinity for the air. Envious for having spent his entire life grounded, the butcher utilizes that quiet jealousy and the boon of protectiveness to guide him into handing the reins over to the dragon in his blood – mirroring Danta enough now that he, too, aims for the sky. He’s bulkier, more muscle than graceful in this shift, so it takes more movement before he can leap toward the sky, his long wings snapping out and beating a few extra times to drag him into the sky.

Eventually, though, he evens out right around Danta’s height in the sky – seeing the desert down below from this high. It’s clear he has practiced in the inbetween since finding this shift and now, but still not nearly enough to not seem a smidge clumsy in the air. At least he doesn’t have to worry too much about plummeting to the ground as he had before. And once he's settled, the butcher zips a bit closer to Danta with a low roar of a thrum from his throat as a boast of pride.

Astaroth

// so buddy please, won't you smile just for me //

// fire on the mountain, run, boys, run //

With his fore and hind claws tucked in and close to his body, Danta is already thoroughly enjoying the wide expanse of space up here, the way the warm breeze catches his wings and makes it easy to tilt and steer; it's very rare, even up in The Climb, to have such a vast, yawning place to fly. And clumsy though Asta's takeoff might be - something he might always need to account for given his relative size in comparison to the Maverick - he does get himself airborne, and Danta lets out a screech of congratulations as he joins him up in the big blue.

As the butcher swerves closer the screech becomes more of a chitter of approval, though he doesn't dare try to clip Asta playfully in case it sends him arrowing back down to the ground at speed. Instead, drifting above him on the wing, he spreads his wings wide and circles a few more times before shrieking for the other Ancient's attention and starting to even out. Where they're headed he has no idea, but he could travel like this forever, and if Asta is game for an adventure, they can just end up where the wind takes them.

Dantalion

// the devil's in the house of the risin' sun //

// you know that this could be your last day here on earth //

His limbs are still a touch unruly as he takes to the sky, focused so much on his wings that the second he actually takes in Danta’s appearance does he remember he has arms and legs. They tuck in against his scarred chest, the plates of dragonscale carved through in a rough mirror of the scars in his human form, though he hasn’t taken in his appearance in this shift too much to notice it at first.

It’s the screech of congratulations that the butcher mirrors with a low rumble of his own, joining Danta close enough that he’s sure he won’t run into him – quietly grateful for the approach his fiancé takes when it comes to giving him enough space to not spiral out of control. His wings flare again, beating against the thermals in the sky and catching on the winds, also uncertain exactly where they’re heading, but there’s nothing but firm adoration in Asta’s orange gaze as he watches his lover quite literally fly circles around him. With a huff of smoke from his nares, the scarred and bulkier dragon chirrups a sound of his own before he starts to test his limits.

Picking a random direction, he forces himself to gain speed and a touch more altitude – nothing outlandish, but enough that the desert beneath them begins to pass by in what felt like a blur, over the rise and fall of dust clouds likely formed by landsharks if he had to guess. But its at this speed that the butcher banks, curving on the wind with absolute apprehension and nothing but a roar of glee to find that it had worked to turn him without sending him spiraling in the air or crashing to the desert below. It’s still not that graceful, but it’s better, and he’ll take it as he seeks out Danta’s gaze with as much of a grin in this form as he can.

Astaroth

// so buddy please, won't you smile just for me //

// fire on the mountain, run, boys, run //

Asta won't hear the next chirp of approval as Danta notices his fellow dragon catching himself starfishing his scaly limbs around (and fixing it), but you can bet your sweet bippy it happens. He's quiet as they start to fly in earnest, knowing the other man will likely need more concentration than he does, and so he contents himself in first catching a thermal above the butcher, then eventually swooping behind him to ride the wind in his shadow for a bit.

By the time Asta decides to turn, to rise higher and to roar his glee overhead, Danta has fully settled into the shift and the heat soaking into shimmering black scales, feeling whatever reptilian instincts that exist within him stretch and keen their enjoyment to be able to freely fly like this. He doesn't care which direction they go, the Maverick rising abreast of his lover with a few beats of his wings, and later he'll notice that they're heading towards a strange, bleached area of Hak Etme. He won't know what that means, though, until they get there.

For now, he merely roars his satisfaction back at the other Ancient, smoke billowing from his nostrils in an urge to celebrate properly with a ribbon of flame from his throat.

Dantalion

// the devil's in the house of the risin' sun //

// you know that this could be your last day here on earth //

He doesn’t hear the chirp of approval – too busy making sure he actually focuses on handing parts of his subconscious over toward the dragon in his skin. It’s both easy and difficult to do, he finds, especially this season. The protectiveness and greed of the dragon is one that resonates very strongly within the butcher today, but when it comes to losing that semblance of control and being at the whim of the air and skies around them he finds it hard to trust it.

At least, until he’s managed to bank that curve toward the more bleached section of Hak Etme, dragging his attention nearly immediately with the strangeness of it. And with this newfound confidence in his flight capabilities, he figures it’s a good time to practice landing. So with a growl and plume of fire from his maw in response to Danta’s own, the butcher angles himself toward the bleached bone – content to let his body relax from focusing so much on flight to take a different shift on, the one that’s been nagging at his soul this entire trip so far.

- FIN

Astaroth

// so buddy please, won't you smile just for me //