(SE) and oh my weary soul

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

The portal has made it so incredibly convenient. So much so, that Astaroth doesn’t even feel the need to worry too much about the means of travelling to the Climb, the days it’ll take to get precisely where they need to go. Instead, everything loaded up in a bag in a cart that the Butcher maneuvers through the portal with ease, with the Maverick taking the lead, easily refraining from burning any of his clothes off with the use of his now stronger magic.

“I’m fairly confident that this is my favorite space.” Astaroth muses as the cart’s dragged behind him, wandering down the tunnels to the sparkling gems from within, admiring each and every one of them with a dark gaze. Pickaxes sit in the cart as they reach a clearing and the butcher slips out of his coat to fold it neatly over the edge of the cart before he collects one of them and lugs it up over his shoulder, marring the white shirt with a bit of ash and dirt that he can’t help the slight grimace from. “We are looking for a large piece of obsidian that we can sculpt into the shrine.” He informs the Theocrat for probably the third time so far. He can’t help it, the excitement seems to be brimming through his bones, evident by how his tail weaves in the hot air behind him. “Perhaps we can manage to collect a series of rubies to add to it as well.” Flashing a sharp grin over at Danta, the butcher starts his search.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"Mine too," Danta says, his voice already hushed but easily swallowed up in the cavern they enter. With an orb of fire floating overhead courtesy of his magic, they can easily make out the glittering walls, the dark stains on the ground, and he closes his eyes and breathes deeply of the scent of blood. "It always made me feel closest to Dygra," he adds, promptly turning to prowl back to the butcher's cart.

Rummaging around for - you guessed it - a pickaxe, he flashes a fanged grin at Asta and gives him a nudge on the way past, his own tool propped over his shoulder. "I know, I know," he drawls, heading off into the cavern to see if he can spot any good slabs of obsidian they might use. "I imagine she'd like that. Besides, what's wrong with a little extra decoration?"

Disappearing into the more shadowy parts of the Reach, Asta will undoubtedly hear when Danta finds something he likes the look of, based on the clang! of metal on stone.

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

“Mm, agreed.” The butcher hums, lips quirking into a brighter grin as he collects his pickaxe, nodding when Danta slides by and nudges him as the Maverick collects his own pickaxe. Stepping back to admire the gemstones once more, he glances over to watch Danta slip away into the darkness.

It’s where he takes a note out the Theocrats book, sparking an orb of flame above him as well to illuminate the cavern as they pick separate paths in their search. “There is nothing wrong at all with it, my dear.” So saying, the butcher drifts further, searching for a pillar of obsidian only to stumble across a few particularly sharp and beautiful set of ruby clusters. Snagging those to pop into a burlap sack he’d brought, he hears the clank of metal against stone and follows it like a bat echolocating.

Setting the bag down as he approaches and finds a perfectly large piece of obsidian, one that could certainly be ideal for the shrine. “Oh, this is perfect, Danta.” Comes the easy praise, already prepping his pickaxe to start carving out the other side to free it so they might be able to add it to the cart.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"Mmn?" Having been entirely absorbed in his own chaos making, Danta glances back at Asta with a crooked smile that flashes only one of his fangs, and gestures for the other man to make himself comfortable while they attack the slab of obsidian from both sides. "I thought you might be able to use it as a sort of offering table," he says. "There's a razor sharp bit I spotted too, on the way to this one. In case anyone wants to use it to offer blood to our lady."

Falling quiet once more to swing the pickaxe again, whilst it's true that Danta isn't a natural when it comes to brute force tools like this, his enthusiasm is certainly second to none, and he steps back for a break a few swings later, glad to see that the obsidian is almost free. "Do you want me to go and grab the cart? We'll have less of a distance to carry it that way."

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

The Butcher doesn’t repeat himself, already sure that Danta has picked up the context of it with that fanged smile offered back toward him. He does, in fact, make himself comfortable, hacking away at the obsidian with the pickaxe to help the Maverick free it. “You’re going to end up doing all the work for me, darling.” Comes the playful hum between the rise and fall of the pickaxe, the clunk! and ping! of metal hitting stone.

As Danta takes his break to see that they’re nearly done, Astaroth continues to swing against the stone, finally plucking the last bit of it free before he drops the pickaxe to pull it from the ground, fully freeing it and panting slightly from the effort it had taken. Already beginning to shake his head, he flashes a shark toothed grin over at the other Ancient. “I can retrieve the cart if you can start on that razor sharp bit you mentioned?” Wiping his hands against each other to try and rid it of the dirt clinging to them, he’s already shifting into his fyrhund shift, bouncing down the path they’d come from like a very content dog.

Returning after a few minutes with the cart in question, he sets it beside the initial piece of obsidian and loads up the bag with the ruby cluster into it so that it isn’t forgotten.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"Perhaps I am just invested in our new shrine, like you are," Danta purrs; if nothing else, after all, the Maverick has always been a devout follower of Dygra. Stretching his arms above his head (having leant his pickaxe nearby), he nods at Asta's suggestion, watching with no small amount of interest as the other man manoeuvres the slab of obsidian. Clearly, he likes what he sees. "Alright - shout if you need me," he calls after him, taking up the pickaxe once more as the butcher trots away on a fyrhund's paws.

Able to chip out the spike of obsidian he'd seen earlier in more than good time before Asta returns, the other man will find him crouched beside the obsidian as he returns with the cart, straightening up only when he rolls it nearby. "Alright, time to pretend either of us is made for heavy lifting," he says with a dark laugh. Setting the gemstone spike next to the sack of ruby clusters, Danta grasps his side of the slab and braces himself. "Whenever you're ready."

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

Astaroth’s gaze glitters with agreement over the fact that the both of them are invested in this shrine – truthfully, anything beat the trek to the Black Lake as far as Astaroth was concerned. Having the shrine closer simply meant a much easier time spreading all of their dark adoration for their lady. So, still just as pleased with the obsidian they’ve found, Astaroth trots off to retrieve the cart.

Returning, he finds Danta crouched beside the obsidian, a snort slipping past his lips as he rolls his eyes. “At the very least, it’s both of us and our lanky appendages rather than just one, hmm?” He drawls, pausing for a moment to ensure the sleeves of his shirt are aptly rolled up before he starts to reach for the obsidian slab, nodding to the Maverick with an exhale of “ready,” before the two of them hoist the heavy obsidian, managing to lift it up enough to get Danta’s edge onto the side of the cart while the Butcher starts to try to carefully try to position it to slide it so that it won’t break falling into the cart. “Darling, can you move it a bit to your left?” He asks, muscles flexing as he keeps his side where it is so that they might be able to rotate the slide.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

Taking a deep breath as Asta affirms that he's good to go, Danta grumbles something that might be a curse (but really, who knows), and hefts up the slab as best he can, inching it onto the cart until he's able to relax a little, letting the wooden frame take most of the weight. "For you, of course," he says with a quick smirk at the other man's request, grasping the gemstone and rotating it just so until he's reasonably confident that it will make it onto the cart in one piece.

That done, he quickly ducks around to help the butcher, allowing them to slide the obsidian neatly in place. And hey, Danta's only a little out of breath. "Think that'll hold until we get back to the portal?" He pants, rolling his shoulder and stepping back to look at it properly. "Look at that. Teamwork from you and I, in The Climb. If you listen close you can hear all the statues of the people who knew us spinning."

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

His sharp smile twists a bit more playfully at the confirmation, despite how his face reddens with how he’s holding onto his half of the gemstone with all the strength he can muster (and gods, if it isn’t a bittersweet reminder of how far he’s come since being a gargoyle amongst the lava pits here, while also being a reminder of how much he’s lost). Either way, the obsidian slips in with the help of the blonde and Astaroth smooths it out, giving it a good look to ensure that it would survive the trek back, before he twists to press his back against the edge of the cart, trying to clean up some of the ash and debris from his arms. “It certainly will.” He comments of whether it would hold to reach the portal.

As for the rest of it, a deep chuckle escapes him and he cocks his head toward the Theocrat. “Mm, it sounds like an avalanche.” He teases, before he pushes off the cart and steps toward the Maverick, reaching up to grasp his jaw gently in a little soft touch of a squeeze, before he notices a slight scratching sound that immediately attracts his attention, stepping past the Maverick to follow the sound curiously. “That, however, does not.” Confused (but likely equally amused over the idea it might have something to do with the joke), it results in guiding him toward a path through the gemstones, a hole burrowed into the side underneath the vein of magma that illuminates this portion of the gems and the cavern, and he crouches curiously to inspect it.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"Good, because I don't know if I can move it again," Danta says with a breathless chuckle, brushing the dust and ash from his own clothes as they're given a brief reprieve. He does bark out a laugh, however, at Asta's avalanche comment, the Maverick cocking his head in an exaggerated attempt to hear the stone bodies rumbling about.

He doesn't expect the other man to step in so close, and whatever words brim to the surface die on his tongue as he feels long fingers grasp his jaw. Before Danta can respond, of course, Asta is gone all over again, leaving him with a furrowed brow as he rubs at his cheek. "What doesn't?" Clearly he hasn't heard the scratching - he'd been a little more focused on the butcher in truth - but he follows after him nonetheless.

"Asta, you're quite invested in a rat hole," he drawls when he finally catches up to the tall Ancient, Danta lingering behind him with arms folded across his chest, clearly expecting Asta to end up getting bit on the nose.

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

Truth be told, Astaroth doesn’t think he could move it again either, so the fact that it’s nestled in and there’s no need for a skyship trip to try and haul it back makes it that much easier for the both of them. As for rocksliding avalanches for their teamwork, the gentle squeeze to Danta’s jaw before withdrawing, Astaroth pretends not to notice the words he’s sure have died on the blonde’s tongue.

“The scratching, my dear.” He drawls, crouched before the hole in the base of the volcanic rock, tail waving curiously, dark eyes inspecting the scratching that has certainly gotten louder alongside the puff of ash and rock that pops out of it. Snorting, he glances up to Danta with a raised dark brow and a too arrogant grin that seems to match him all that much more from the days they’d spent here. “rOUS’ holes are typically different, darling.” He drawls as if daring the Theocrat to argue with him.

Alas, there isn’t much to go off of initially, though there is a sudden flash of dark movement that appears, and with a surprising amount of speed and the instincts of the fyrhund still vibrating through his system, his hand lunges for the creature, scruffing it by the back of its neck and lifting it to inspect as it squeaks its complete and utter disapproval, wiggling around. Turning and standing with it still in his hands, his grin is impossibly sharper as he shows it off to the Maverick. “Well, well, well… Not a rOUS at all.” He drawls cockily, despite having zero idea what it is.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"Oh, are they?" Danta says with a raise of his eyebrows and a smirk that seems to tilt towards the smug, as if in response to Asta's own expression. "Well, I suppose you would know, darling. You probably spent more time around rat holes than I did." Completely false, of course - Danta would eat whatever he could get his hands on, whenever he got the opportunity. And now that he's peering over the butcher's shoulder, the little burrow does seem different from that of any ROUS - or any regular rats, for that matter.

But then Asta's long fingers are lancing out, quicker than a cat on the prowl, and the Maverick can't help his snort of amusement at the sight. He does step back a couple of paces to give the other man room to get on his feet, tilting his head at the dark, furry little thing in his grip. "Looks like some sort of weasel," he says, watching as the creature writhes in Asta's grip and tries to turn and bite his knuckles with sharp little teeth. "I believe you have made it angry."

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

Rolling his eyes with a huff of a laugh, the Butcher shakes his head and glances up at the Maverick with a gleam in his dark gaze that just seems to say seriously? You’re being serious right now? Of course, that jesting doesn’t last as the scratching grows louder and there’s movement, and he’s focused as a predator often is despite not hunting, plucking the ferret from the rocky ground and lifting it to inspect. He rises from the crouch, head tilting as he regards it and its thrashing.

“I don’t recall there being weasels around here?” He murmurs, stepping over toward Danta as it tries to bite his knuckles and Astaroth practically snickers with the amusement of it. And to the blonde’s comment of making it angry, all the butcher does is flash a too sharp grin toward the other Ancient as he cocks his head. “I believe it would make a fine start to a coat, don’t you agree?” Raising a dark brow even as it continues to thrash, his focus is taken on it again as he inspects the creature’s fur.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"Yeah, well, I don't recall there being sheep around here either," Danta points out, as if the pyrina he so enjoys chasing aren't evidence of the fact that the Climb is no longer the place they'd grown up in (if the flora and fauna have anything to say about it, anyway). "Maybe they moved in to give the lial and lava wyrms something to hunt?" he suggests with a raise of his eyebrows, though evidently he hasn't accounted for the quality of the ferret's fur that has so caught Asta's eye.

Tilting his head, he can't deny that the silky smooth quality of the pelt would well suit a coat that the butcher would likely commission, but there's something about the ferret's eagerness to live - and willingness to bite the fuck out of the thing holding it hostage - that resonates with him, despite the urge to rip and tear that feels perpetually on the edge of his teeth. "Mm, I have no doubt," he agrees, "though perhaps you ought to set traps to catch as many as possible, if that's the case? This one seems very keen to keep its life."

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //