don't you ever tame your demons

// you've got a passion in those eyes //

Danta's feet take him down and into the belly of The Burrows with neither his permission nor his notice, the Maverick walking as if still half in a dream. He'd wandered straight from the Obsidian Cathedral, straight from his goddess's presence, and though the determination in him for the quest he's undertaking is as sober as it comes, he can't help the small and absent smile on his face as he steps into Soulfire Reach. The crystals refract off the light of the fire he conjures about himself in small, floating orbs, casting rainbows through his horns and against the walls.

Sinking to his knees near a cluster of emerald and quartz, Danta hums tunelessly under his breath as he works to free some of the crystals from their brothers and sisters, teasing them with his bare hands and caring little if he cuts his fingers as he goes. Still caked in far too much blood for anywhere except a place like this, he fits in, at least, slightly feverish with the memory of the past few minutes and heedless of anyone who might come across him.

Dantalion

// so aim it straight and true //

// with our one foot in the grave //

He knows Danta’s gone to see Dygra, so his arrival here isn’t to find the Maverick so much as it is to snag a crystal or two to make into gifts later. But it turns out, as he slips into the cavern of gemstones, that the butcher is very much not alone if the bobbing fire has anything to say about it. Seeing shortly after that it’s the Maverick, he approaches closer, all reservations gone.

“How did it go, Danta, darling?” Comes the accented hum, drawing up beside his blond lover and watches as the fire blooms beautiful rainbows across the cavern wall and along the other gemstones, before his gaze falls upon his lover’s handsome face and the almost dazed smile he spots there.

Astaroth

// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //

// you've got a passion in those eyes //

Still humming to himself, Danta has managed to unearth a chunk of emerald and a little cluster of quartz, taking himself over to a wall where he can see jagged pieces of aquamarine prodruding, ready for the taking. Only as he wraps his fingers around a plinth of crystal does he hear his name hit the air, his head turning quite slowly all things considered. Even recognising near instantly that it's Asta, the Maverick's smile is a beaming and far away thing, and he abandons the aquamarine to turn and gaze up at the butcher.

"I saw her," he whispers. "She came to speak to me properly. I saw her, Asta." And for the Maverick, it's truly like having paid an important visit to a parent. Orphaned as he was at an age too young to remember his parent's faces, to say that Dygra has been the closest thing to a mother for Danta is an understatement. "She told me how to help the Grounds. Or how to help anywhere, if that is what we decide to do."

Dantalion

// so aim it straight and true //

// with our one foot in the grave //

Dazed is perhaps not the right term. Dreamlike? Awed? Inspired? All of the above?

It’s different enough that Asta’s surprise is painted in the smile lines of his face, at the sharp toothed smile that’s more of a question than it is his usual confident smile. But he’s patient, hearing as the Maverick says he saw her, his head dipping to acknowledge it - because yes, that was the point of going to the cathedral, was it not?

Ah, but then he continues, and the crows feet from the dark honey of his eyes deepen with the way his eyes widen. Seeing her. Visually. Something he has never had the pleasure of, her voice a firm and stalwart guide for him the majority of his second chance life.

“Oh, darling, that is wonderful.” His voice is surprisingly soft, the realization harboring so much more than just face value understanding. It was monumental. And the happiness and pride that blooms from the butcher is bright enough when he reaches out to press the warmth of his hand between Danta’s shoulder blades. “How can I assist?” He murmurs softly, his smile somehow still growing brighter for his lover.

Astaroth

// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //

// you've got a passion in those eyes //

With a cheerfully fanged grin and a nod of agreement - it had been wonderful, Danta's tail flicking animatedly at his heels - the Maverick turns back to the wall of aquamarine and gestures to both it and the chunks of emerald and quartz in his hands. "It's called a chaos cluster. Or it will be, once I've gathered all the components," he says. With Asta's fingers as a warm, centering weight between his shoulders, Danta is able to explain the requirements Dygra had given him, including why he's currently digging crystals out of the cavern walls with his bare fingers.

"If you could collect that aquamarine, I'll search for some ruby, and then I think I'm satisfied," he says, caring not for the way the crystals he currently holds are stained with blood, some his own and some not. "We could protect more of the Grounds against the void once I have it. I'm sure no one would complain if we focus on that for the region, right?" he asks.

Dantalion

// so aim it straight and true //

// with our one foot in the grave //

A chaos cluster. The word bounces around the butchers mind, sinking in comfortably while his fingers starburst out from Danta’s spine, offering a loving touch, connecting and bolstering him as much as possible. Not that he thinks it will do much, his own support and affection paling in comparison to Danta being able to see their goddess.

But he listens all the same to the requirements, to the reasons why Danta is plucking stones from the wall. “Ah, I see.” The butcher responds with growing content, withdrawing only when the request is made but not without leaving a parting kiss against his lover’s cheek. “I certainly can assist with that.” He starts off, before continuing as he steps away in search of the milk blue stones he needs to collect.

“I do not think the people of the Grounds will have issues with that.” He confirms, spotting a small cluster of the precious blue stones and pries them from the wall, utilizing a knife procured from his belt to help. Collecting these ones, he moves down to another he spots in his peripheral. “What was she like?” He asks, referring to Dygra. “I have never had the pleasure of seeing her.” Not with his own eyes, at least.

Astaroth

// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //

// you've got a passion in those eyes //

On the contrary - Asta's warm, calloused fingers against his bare skin are as precious and welcome now as they always have been, despite Danta's somewhat hazy responses as he continues to reel from the physical presence of their goddess. "I'd appreciate it," he purrs as the other man confirms he can help, leaning into the kiss pressed to his cheek before peeling himself away to go and hunt for rubies.

Having stuffed the emeralds and the quartz into his back pocket - the only pockets he's got with his current ragged attire, alas - he soon finds himself kneeling at a cluster of deep crimson, reaching out to tease a few away. "I didn't think they would either. Especially after what happened at Longnight," he agrees, sucking the blood from a fresh cut on his finger and then reaching out to resume his work on the rubies.

"Mm...? Wait, never?" Pausing with a considerable chunk of crystal in hand, he turns to gaze across at Asta with wide blue eyes. "Not even when you were made? How?" His privilege of growing up Ancient, evidently, is showing, and Danta tries to blink away the surprise. "I... well." He smirks. "She's a blonde, to start, so you're already in luck."

Dantalion

// so aim it straight and true //

// with our one foot in the grave //

Especially after what happened at Longnight, that’s for sure. The butcher’s agreement is a gentle hum in the cavern of the Soulfire Reach as he gets to work, plucking the milk blue stones and collecting them in a pocket of his jacket - leaving the other side free should he need to carry anything else (like Danta’s rubies, perhaps).

He pulls another chunk free before his dark gaze slides over toward Danta, an amused smile on his face. “When I was made I could hardly talk, let alone trust what I was seeing. I had my eyes closed.” Partially by his own volition and partially because he thinks if he remembers right, that they’d been sealed by dried blood and tears as well.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Hearing that she’s blonde, though, the butcher trills a sound of both surprise and amusement. “Oh, the luckiest then. I have very good taste, you know.” He purrs, tail weaving playfully behind him as he cuts Danta a mischievous look.

Astaroth

// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //

// you've got a passion in those eyes //

"Ah, right." Danta's smile slants a touch towards the apologetic, and he straightens at last with his ruby to pad back over to Asta on bare feet, taking the opportunity himself to tuck the hunk of crystal into his other jacket pocket. "You have the best taste," he corrects, beaming and giving the lapels of his jacket a playful little tug before stepping back. Hooking a thumb into the waist of his pants, the Maverick has to spend a second or two trying to decide how best to describe their dark lady to his lover.

"Her skin is like the finest bone china you've ever seen," he says slowly. "And her eyes are blood and fire. She's like The Climb brought to life. Like this cavern, and at the same time like the roughest parts of The Crust." Never having been particularly talented with words, it's the best Danta can really do, and he shrugs his shoulders up at Asta as if to say he's done his best. "I hope you get to see her one day."

Dantalion

// so aim it straight and true //

// with our one foot in the grave //

Unaffected by the memories brought up - the trauma of it is simply just another day at the present moment. Talked about easily with the Maverick because he already knew the intricacies. He already knew the reactions the butcher had with them, intimately, and admittedly it does take a few moments for him to remind himself not to look down at the scar that still remains on Danta’s arm - just one of many that he’d given the other man.

Focusing instead on the heaviness in his other pocket, at least evening out with the aquamarine his other side, he’s tugged with ease before hitched a little closer with the hooked thumb in against his belt, keeping him close enough that the butcher can wind his fingers through the messy blonde dipped in crimson, trying and clinging to each strand like living copper. Dark eyes scan his face and he watches and listens while Danta recalls their goddess in all her stunning, holy glory.

He’d be lying if his mouth didn’t go a touch dry at the imagery portrayed in his mind. Though, the gentleman he is wins out as he smooths back the blonde and offers his lover an affectionate yet still sharp smile. “She sounds beautifully devastating.” Comes the soft hum, before he’s leaning in to press his clean forehead against the still dried blood smeared forehead of the Maverick’s. “You will be the first to know if I do.” He murmurs softly.

Astaroth

// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //

// you've got a passion in those eyes //

Tipping his head back to enjoy the now familiar play of fingers through his hair, sticky with blood though it might be, Danta feels a sly smile spreading across his lips as he watches Asta's reaction to his description. It might be subtle, but he's spent a long time learning the other man's tells, and it's with a dark laugh that he leans into the touch against his forehead. "She'd ruin you for sure," he agrees, affectionately certain about that.

"Good," he adds, drawing back enough to snatch a quick kiss from the other man's lips, his tail flicking at his heels. Then, stepping away from Asta again and rolling his shoulders, even the butcher's presence and the chance to come down from his encounter with Dygra hasn't seemed to settle him any, and it's something he seems to notice all at once.

"I feel weird," he announces, fingers flexing as if his palms are itchy.

Dantalion

// so aim it straight and true //

// with our one foot in the grave //

It is a subtle shift, but Asta has been nothing but readable to the Maverick’s observations, and even now when he feels the warmth of his forehead against his own, his lover sees right through him – sparking a snort from the butcher that precedes the accented laugh that leaves him. “Is that not the intention?” To be ruined by Dygra was certainly an idea. One he fully doesn’t anticipate becoming reality, but the thought itself is amusing enough.

The kiss is snatched from his lips quickly and a bit surprisingly for Asta – he’s not fully caught back up to the conversation yet – he flashes his typically sharp and charming smile, though it’s tinged in a new shade of boyishness, reflective of Danta’s elation. Muting himself as his lover steps away and Asta ensures the crystals are where they should be in his pockets, his head tilts as he glances back up at his lover to hear that he feels weird.

“Weird how?” All at once, Asta’s boyishness fades into calculation, as if he can run his gaze along Danta from head to toe and find what’s wrong.

Astaroth

// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //

// you've got a passion in those eyes //

"I don't think she intends to ruin all of her children in that way," Danta quips, and even with the way he suddenly feels restless and confined, he can't help the amused grin on his face as he glances up at Asta. "For you, though? I bet you'd ask for it." Winking and resisting the urge to pat the butcher on the butt for good measure, as the boyish slant to the other man's smile fades away, he turns his attention properly to himself again.

"It's like this place is suddenly too small for me," he says slowly, twisting to look around at himself as if that might give him some further ideas. By this place, too, it's not entirely clear whether Danta is referring to the bejewelled cavern, or his body in general. "I think I need to go up into the open air. Will you come with me?" However he's feeling, the Maverick is still as bright and cheerful as before, his bare feet carrying him into the cavern's exit without fully waiting for a response.

Dantalion

// so aim it straight and true //

// with our one foot in the grave //

“Well no, likely not.” The butcher agrees softly, chuckling as he meets Danta’s grin back to him, a playfulness that blooms among the boyishness, because yeah… He’s right. He probably would ask for it. He might even go so far as to beg for it. But that’s neither here nor there, because his boyish daydreaming is cut abruptly short as he scans his lover for any signs of anything that could be wrong with him.

Looking around the cavern, because it was large and vast, the answer is surprising. Which has him shifting to focus properly on Danta again, unsure as well if he means his very skin and bones. The ones the butcher is quite fond of, if he’s being honest.

The cheery bright nature is enough to relax him, though, as he nods and immediately starts to follow the Maverick – trailing closely behind him enough that Danta’s tail could brush against him if he paused. “Of course I will, darling. Tell me when you are ready.” Comes the hum, content leaving the jeweled cavern behind for the open air of the Climb in all of her beauty.

Astaroth

// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //