hiding in plain sight

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

He had not expected the conversation to frustrate him so badly. Usually, yes, he could handle people not being okay with the things he did. But this was different, and to be compared to a different kind of monster, it sets the butcher’s sharp teeth on edge. Hissing out a sound as he paces in his office later after the event but still letting it flood his mind, going over everything in his head, nearly wearing lines in the flooring before he hisses out a sound of further annoyance and marches himself up the stairs from the back rooms to Danta’s.

Learning from his previous mistake, his knuckles knock against the door, two glasses and whiskey as opposed to wine. “Danta, darling, may I come in?” He asks through the door, his voice taking on an edge of frustration and coldness that is unlike him at the present moment, more akin to the butcher that had walked through the tunnels and rooms of the Climb.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

"Just a second!"

There's a brief struggle, a sound of fluttering wings and Danta's muffled swearing, before a window closes and the Maverick opens the door, appearing as casually as possible but with one black, downy feather still caught in his hair.

One might expect him to spend the entirety of LongNight writhing around with various individuals, or down at the bar drinking it dry - and all of this is very accurate, but even Danta needs to sleep and rehydrate at some point.

Which is why he looks fairly casual as he peers out at Astaroth, having just peeled himself out of bed. Behind him, on said bed, is a book that looks as though it's been promptly opened and discarded, a half-completed puzzle wrecked by his snoozing in the blankets, and a failed attempt at knitting.

"You absolutely may," he informs him, stepping aside for him to do just that before recognising the small changes in the butcher that, by default, put Danta on edge as well. "What's happened?"

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

Learnt from the previous mistakes, the butcher does wait. He waits as he listens to the muffled sounds from the other side, fully expecting a trio of people at the very least to come scurrying out when Danta opens the door. But, there is nothing to be found aside from the feather that Asta locks eyes on, reaching up to brush it away so it falls to the floor without so much as a hi.

He steps in, sets the glasses and bottle down, takes a look at the hobbies laid out before prodding the ball of yarn. “Is this a scarf? Or… a hat?” He asks initially before Danta’s question has him sighing and sitting on the edge of the rumpled bed, puzzle pieces scattering with the movement as his tail flicks in annoyance.

He sighs and reaches for a glass and the bottle to pour himself a large sip. “I was compared to someone I threw out downstairs who was trying to assault Maea and who threw a fit when getting removed and attacked multiple patrons and workers.” He says bluntly, then downs the contents of his glass and goes to pour into it again. “I do understand that I am a certain type of monster, but gods.” Not that kind. Never that kind.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

"I was saving that for later," Danta says dryly at the feather that cascades down from his hair, before clicking the door shut after Asta and hurrying over to swat his prodding fingers away from his knitting. "It's a bowtie, you blind fuck," he informs him. (In what capacity it is anything is debatable, in fact, but Danta stands by it nonetheless).

Snagging at the other glass and remaining standing even as Asta moves to sit, the Maverick raises an eyebrow and sips at his own whiskey, albeit much more slowly. "I'm sorry - someone tried to what?" He begins, his own tail already beginning to lash at his heels, though of course his mood does another 180 as he puts two and two together about why Asta is pissed off.

"And how did they come up with that brilliant conclusion?" he wants to know, scowling and stepping forward to stand between the butcher's knees, his free hand tugging gently at the back of the other man's dark hair as if to remind him to talk as much as he drinks.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

His brows pinch as he regards the yarn monstrosity again, but doesn’t comment on it as he sinks down onto the bed. If he wishes to claim it’s a bow tie, Asta will let him. But the brief glimpse in his gaze seems to suggest he thinks it’s anything but.

But there are more pressing matters, especially as he dives into his first drink and begins to explain, pausing to let his dark gaze lift up to the Maverick, setting his glass down with a sigh to pour some into the blonde Ancient’s glass. “Because she followed me when I told her to stay. The fight sparked my bloodlust, and he seemed the best target.” It was contained, though, the only one who knew was Maea. “So she witnessed it and claimed we were one in the same when she argued with me after.” Astaroth reaches up to tug Danta closer, leaning forward to press his forehead into the other man’s stomach. “It’s ridiculous.”

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

"Whoa, hang on - Maea is the one who said it?" Clearly Danta is a little slow on the uptake, ferried forward even as his glass is filled up, and he lets his hand drop to rest comfortably around Asta's shoulders, taking a slow sip of whisky at the same time. "You're security for a brothel," he points out dryly, raising an eyebrow as if everyone might have forgotten about it. "That's almost the complete opposite of the person who tried to assault her."

Still, whilst Danta is caught in the urge to laugh at the, yes, ridiculous nature of the situation, clearly the butcher isn't feeling quite as easy about it all, and he lets out a sigh and takes another, larger sip of his drink. "When did this happen?" he asks, as if he might be able to go downstairs right now and straighten things out. And, belatedly, he does furrow his brow and give the other man's shoulders a squeeze.

"You aren't that sort of monster," he agrees. "The comparison isn't even close."

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

“Yes.” Astaroth rumbles, muffled from where his head rests against Danta’s stomach. The tension in his shoulders begins to release when Danta’s hand rests upon it, offering a heat he hadn’t realized he’d been craving, to soothe the frayed thoughts running through his head. “Exactly.” He agrees, shaking his head a little and ruining the carefully kept dark hair from his widows peak from coming undone when he withdraws slightly to peer up at the Maverick. “It occurred yesterday.” So there was no going down and straightening it out – it had been solved by everyone around, except for Maea’s internal panic, apparently.

The butcher withdraws enough to reach for the glass to down the next sip, sighing away the burn before he sets it aside again and reaches up to press against his temple from the open space offered where Danta’s other hand is occupied with the glass. “I don’t know what she expected when she followed me.” He admits, tail still flicking his annoyance, but less punctuated now with Danta’s reassurance. “She was upset that I “tortured” him.” Which, he thought was completely and utterly deserved.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

"I did wonder why I hadn't seen you lurking about," Danta mutters, promptly knocking back the rest of his whiskey and setting the glass down beside Asta's. "I'll speak to her," he decides, brows furrowed and warm fingers working gently through the back of the butcher's dark hair. "Assuming she's still in the Dusklight?" She might have fled to the Temple for all he knows, or out to the bonfire in the Inner Quarter.

Either way, Danta will try to get hold of the pale Ancient before she goes skipping town or trying to have Asta burned at the stake (or, er, frozen in the snow?)

"If she hates that you tortured him, I doubt she would have liked what the soldiers would have done to him either. Or what any of the men and women he'd assaulted before might have had planned." Because he doubts whoever Asta had ripped to pieces was a first time offender, based on the story.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

“I don’t know. Or care.” Astaroth grumbles, head tilting just enough to press his bearded chin to Danta’s stomach, peering up at him with annoyance flickering in his gaze. He debates whether or not to recount the entire ordeal, tail flickering with more of his frustration, arms shifting to wind around Danta’s middle and squeeze a little.

Humming a note of agreement he makes to withdraw somewhat, reaching up to tug at his horn momentarily. “She told me that the consequences of my actions would catch up with me from the ones that wiped Whitebrim off the map, as if I didn’t leave my own fucking home before it started getting brainless.” He drawls, rolling his eyes, before a groan of annoyance escapes him again and he moves to lay back onto the bed, puzzle pieces spreading out across the bed even more.

“She said she quits the family or whatever. That she didn’t want to be an Ancient if it meant becoming like us.” He says before a soft laugh escapes him at the fact it was even a thing she thought she could do. “It isn’t even that bad being like us.”

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

"I'll find out," Danta says easily, combing gentle fingers through the other man's hair and seeming for all the world like a reasonable leader in the moment. It might even be true for the hour or so this lasts, especially given that Asta is the one feeling prickly and chaotic while the Maverick has been up here napping and pretending he knows how to do hobbies.

The butcher flops back against the sheets and Danta follows without thought or care, casually arranging himself astride the other man and tilting his head at him, all surrounded by puzzle pieces and rumpled blankets. "Did what she said remind you of back then, in Whitebrim?" he wonders, snagging at one of Asta's hands as if to examine his knuckles for scuffs or his fingers for nicks and bruises.

"And no offence to Maea, but I don't think she's got it in her to become like us. She's too soft for that. Too hero-ey."

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

Having absolutely zero qualms with where Danta chooses to arrange himself, he settles more comfortably feeling the weight of the blonde settle on him. His hand is easily grabbed and inspected and he relaxes finally to let him pull open his fingers and twist his hand this way and that. His knuckles are bruised, there’s scuffs to his wrist, but other than that no other damage at present.

“A bit, but, more so from the other place that captured me. Before I learned.” He sighs, opening his eyes to look at Danta. “She was more upset that I killed him after torturing him, I think. That the ‘enforcer’ was doing the most horrific things.” Rolling his eyes he settles again and lets his other hand rest on Danta’s thigh, stroking along the smooth skin.

Nodding in response, his nose wrinkles. “I told her essentially the same.” He can’t see her becoming like them because there was no point to drive her to that edge that he and Danta had met time and time again.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

Humming out a soft sigh and inspecting Asta's hand until he's satisfied, Danta eventually releases it in lieu of considering the other man's words. "Well," he says airily, as if it's the most simple thing in the world, "I'm not. As leader or as owner of the Dusklight, I'd much rather that sort of creature be out of my establishment and out of the Hollowed Grounds for good." He shrugs his shoulders.

"Besides, it's better than him getting forgotten about for the rest of Longnight and starving or freezing to death in a cell." Which, a real possibility given how raucous the Grounds has become in the past few days. "And," Danta adds, his hand dropping to cover the butcher's against his thigh, "if there's ever a similar situation here, I'd expect you to do the same thing."

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

The second his hand is released it drops to Danta’s other thigh, the butcher peering up at him as he sinks into the blankets all that much more relieved to hear the words that come from the blonde’s lips. “I did not think you would have an issue with it.” He agrees, a touch wearily as the frustrating wind is taken out of his sails. It leaves him tired, wondering why he’d even let it get to him except for the fact he, somewhere deep inside, actually cared what she thought or what she said.

As Danta covers his hand on his thigh, Asta’s hand twists up to trace his fingertips along the other Ancient’s wrist, nodding. “Of course. It has no place here, nor elsewhere in the Grounds.” And for a cannibal, he knows his morality was somewhat skewed, but he also knows he’d never once even think himself capable of stooping so low.

He sits up a little, utilizing his upper body strength to pull him up and reach up and brush Danta’s blonde hair behind his spiked horns. “I feel better now, thank you.” And it’s evident in how his tail has shifted from a pissed off cat, flicking back and forth to the gentle swoops seen now.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

"If I did have an issue with it, we could have just fought it out like old times." Danta flashes the other man a fanged grin and a casual shrug of his shoulders, as if they'd merely engaged in some playful tussling in their past rather than literal attempts to rip one another apart. "Gotta get your kicks somehow during Longnight, right?"

Allowing the butcher to catch his wrist, the Maverick adjusts himself to give Asta room to sit up a little, inclining his head graciously. "You're welcome," he murmurs, leaning in to touch his forehead briefly against the other man's. "Now, do you mind if I let Moira back inside before she pecks a hole in my window? We can head downstairs so she doesn't bother you."

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //