what a lovely way to burn

i don't belong among the angels // and baby that's just fine with me

“Gods.” Astaroth says as he promptly imagines it, huffing a laugh and shaking his head. “Let us just be thankful my name does include A’s, mm darling?” He asks with another snort, shifting a little to settle in beside the Maverick, grabbing his knife and handing it to him with the expectant look of someone that seems to be saying new beginnings, right?

The grin returns to his face as he sees the first mark go into the sigil, ruining it from what it had once been, and with a glimmer of eagerness in his dark gaze does he focus on watching the Maverick shift and move to write his name into the stone. Once Danta is satisfied with it and the name remains etched into the gemstone, Astaroth’s hand moves to rest gently on the blonde’s shoulder. “Perfect.” He hums, flashing that same sharp toothed grin, but something a hint more nostalgic within it.

“Now, are there any other sigils?” He asks, looking around as if he might be able to spot them by sight, perfectly ready to remove every single trace of Morax from this very room.

Astaroth

the things i did up there were high school // but now i'm going for my degree

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"Mm, quite thankful," Danta agrees with a smile, and if Asta hears him mutter, "Thtroth," under his breath, well, no he didn't. Either way, the Maverick is soon busy with his own version of arts and crafts, and he doesn't expect to feel as light as he does to see his own name staring back at him from the pew. Smiling over his shoulder at Asta and handing the knife back to him, he offers a brief touch to the other man's hand before rising to his feet once more.

"Oh, probably," he drawls of the sigils, wrinkling his nose and gesturing all around the cathedral. "Not just here, either - probably all over the Burrows, somewhere." Unless time and rock and magma had wiped them away. Danta would hardly be disappointed if they didn't. "This is the only one I care about today, though."

And it's not so much the ruining of the sigil that mean the most - it's the addition of himself to the tapestry of the Climb's history.

"Come on," he suggests. "Let's head back to the skyship, before anything feathery comes to say hello."

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

i don't belong among the angels // and baby that's just fine with me

Oh, he hears it under Danta’s breath – and he waits half a heartbeat to decide if he’s going to act on any of it. His nose does wrinkle a fraction, but hey if Danta does or doesn’t notice it, that’s as far as the conversation goes. It means little in the face of the smile that the Maverick gives him, one reflected back in a sharper version. Understanding, as it were.

The touch is well received at least, given back in a fleeting manner before he rises to his feet and collects the bag. “Horrible.” Astaroth hums, turning his focus back toward Danta with a small shrug, given that the man doesn’t particularly seem to care one way or another whether more remain. At this point, at least Danta’s actual name is placed amongst the rest of them, not a stupid sigil of a terrible person.

“Much appreciated, darling.” The only thing that could ruin the day so far and his mood would be a feathery surprise. So he takes the easy out, shoulder brushing against Danta’s as they make it back side by side toward the skyship to take them home, blissfully unbothered by corvids.

- FIN <333

Astaroth

the things i did up there were high school // but now i'm going for my degree