the wind around the willow

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

He can see the exhaustion that clings to Danta like the cloak of shadows that the butcher bears, unable to stop the slight frown that tugs at his face against wrinkles born from smiling more than frowning. But Danta’s smile is encouraging as he steps a little closer – letting his gaze drop to the trash bin to find the leg of a chair sticking out. “Thank you.” He says quietly, leaning into the arms that wrap around his middle to draw him close.

“I’m… not sure.” He hums on an accented exhale, his good arm squeezing around the Mavericks frame as he leans into the touch despite the pain, his body stiff and tense like he’s on edge. “Are you alright?” He asks, withdrawing from the hug slightly to look his lover over, his free hand dropping down his arm to touch the bandage wrapped around his hand with a glimmer of confusion flaring in his gaze.

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"Well, whatever you need, we can..." Danta drifts off as Asta draws back, his fingers wanting to chase after him without permission from his mind. He can feel the tension in the other man like a held breath, following his gaze down to the bandage on his hand that he instinctively goes to hide behind his back before giving up the ruse. "I hit a glass off the counter," he explains quietly. "And threw a chair. Set a tapestry on fire. It didn't really do much."

As for whether he's alright, the Maverick lets out a shivery breath and, at last, seems to find the courage to shake his head no. "I'm tired," he says, voice pitched closer to a whisper than anything else. "Not just in general, but... I'm tired, Asta. No one said caring about someone would be scary. But I feel that way. A lot. And being afraid of losing you is exhausting."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

The words die on the blonde Ancient’s tongue, one that has the butcher already shaking his head as if in response to the way he’s positive that he’s about to hear a lie spill from the Maverick’s lips over the brief attention he grants the bandage on the other man’s hand. Surprise flickers in his face, though, shown only because of his exhaustion and pain rather than kept behind wraps they’d been so careful and casual to keep. Confidence bleeding into faux confidence, until they aren’t quite sure which bravado is real and which ones fake.

Because it was easier that way, wasn’t it?

“I see.” He says a bit sadly, head shaking ever so slightly that the butcher’s jaw feathers, listening to the next admission, the whisper that perhaps he isn’t (or is too awake and aware to hear). He can’t help the spark of surprise that glitters in his gaze, the way he seems to still to where even the usual rise and fall of his chest from his breaths aren’t visible as much as he hears him and tries to parse it.

Trying and failing to get anywhere good, the butcher aims for understanding, even if it feels like he’s on the edge of a blade – like they are on the edge of the blade and rather than falling one way or another together, it feels like it’s cutting them in half. Apart.

“I am not… an easy person to care for.” He admits, swallowing down the panic he feels sequestering in his throat and chest. “I’m sorry, love.” It’s quieter, his own hoarse whisper as he scans Danta’s face and looks out at the dark room around them, the fact that it’s empty and still just them despite the fact that it should be bumping with energy and hedonism. Just another thing he’d ruined.

He doesn’t blame Danta for that, though. Doesn’t blame him for any of it. The one chance he had at feeling like he wasn’t going to be trapped in another prison had resulted it in it being him, with his shadows and sharp teeth, his blood tinged charm. “What can I do?” Let me fix this, just don't leave me.

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"Yeah," Danta mumbles, rubbing at his forehead and letting his shoulders slump, as if the weight of his own bravado has become far too much. "I guess I just wasn't prepared for how much I..." Trailing off as if realising instinctively that the butcher has all but stopped breathing, he blinks up at him with tired blue eyes and an expression tipping towards confusion.

Huffing out an almost silent laugh, Danta shakes his head. "Asta, you're the easiest person in the world to care for," he objects, utterly unaware of the sinkhole he's accidentally opened in the foundations of the other man's mind. "And you don't have to apologise. I just... it's easy to lose my temper and feel better after. With this, though..." With this he has to learn to swallow the fear as part of what it means to love someone enough to be afraid they might disappear.

But he doesn't get that far, and as Asta asks what he can do Danta reaches out with a half smile, pressing his hand to the butcher's chest over his heart. "Keep this beating, for one," he jokes, tilting his head up at him. "Are you okay?"

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

It isn’t Danta’s problem to fix, so the worries and sudden fears of being alone doesn’t find light or breath to be said – just in the quiet hidden hold he has of his breath, waiting for the axe to fall on the back of his neck. And regardless of the amount of times he’d hurt himself over and over again, the times others had inflicted pain on him – none of it hurt as much as this balancing act.

He hears his objection – though he denies it internally almost immediately. He’s high strung, OCD, with teeth that turned nearly anyone into a chew toy if given the chance. It’s a lot of work to keep himself together and he can only imagine how much harder it is for someone else to keep the reins. At least there isn’t the crow trauma bundled into this latest event.

“It is different, yes.” There wasn’t much of the feeling better aspect despite the destruction. There was only the sensation of the loss slowly fading away until the next big catastrophe brought it back into light.

He takes a slow and sluggish deep breath when he feels the warmth of Danta’s hand against his chest, and despite the pain and stiffness he presses against it to wrap him in a hug – much more needed than earlier. “I will, darling.” He murmurs softly to the mention of his heart beating. “And if I do not, I have a secondary plan.” Which is perhaps why he wasn’t so concerned with the state of himself.

Ignoring the question of whether he was okay, he peers down at his lover with all of the assurance he can muster. “I have a revivify feather I take with me on every outing, just in case.”

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

It's as if the heat of his hand has reminded the other man to breathe, Danta managing a small smile only for Asta to suddenly crush him in a hug. And gods he'll apologise for it later, and for the screams of protest every bruise is likely making, but his arms wind around him to clutch hold of him in return, head turning to press his ear to the butcher's chest to hear that familiar drumbeat for himself.

Violent and persnickety and highly strung Asta might be, but no part of Danta has ever shied away from that - if anything the Maverick has proven to love those parts of him all the harder, given the chance. He just about has the chance to uncage a sigh from the back of a throat gone tight with emotion when Asta says it - secondary plan. Revivify feather.

"A what?" he whispers, voice muffled in the other man's shirt until he can make himself straighten up somewhat. "You have a what?" The laughter starts as something quiet and disbeliving, Danta looking over his lover as if he might produce a literal phoenix feather from his back pocket. "One of those things that brings people back from the dead?" he wants to clarify it before he decides to wholly feel better, you understand.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

In hindsight, the hug is bruising and crushing and it burns in a way that the butcher hasn’t burned since his days before becoming Ancient. And despite how long it’s been since then, it’s a familiar ache as he holds his lover close – as his heartbeat thrums along steadily beneath the scar tissue that the other man presses against to listen for it.

He lets it process, enough that the butcher hears the laughter bubble up from his lover’s throat – infectious and perhaps an indicator that his emotions are still horribly strung out, but the butcher can’t help the way his own laugh rumbles out of him. It starts as a chuckle, warm and soft and full of his own kind of relief. “Yes. Here…” He reluctantly parts from the Maverick to stiffly tug him along toward where his butcher’s pack is rolled up, unrolling it with his good hand to flip one of the leather flaps.

Producing one of the feathers that would absolutely bring life back to one who’s gone, he shows it to Danta before tucking it back in for safe keeping – so he at least knows where it is. “I found it on a hunt. I did not know what it was at first, but it seemed… special enough to procure.” So he’d snatched it along with the poor man’s skull who’d owned it before who wasn’t coming back for round two at life.

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

With the soft rumble of Asta’s own laughter thrumming through his chest and against his ear, Danta is already feeling some part of him that has been coiled tight enough to crack start to knock loose. Shivering out a breath and reluctantly peeling himself back, he follows the butcher over to the temporary den they’ve made, tail flicking restless and low at his heels. He peers over his lover’s shoulder, still half disbelieving, to watch him rummage through the pack, eyes widening at the glint and shimmer of the mythical feather as he withdraws it.

There’s no mistaking it for anything else, Danta half wanting to reach for it and half not daring to, like he’s afraid he’ll somehow wipe away the magic with his touch. ”And you’ve just… had it ever since?” The laughter that wants to rush out of him is hysterical and barely contained, at risk of turning into a sob if he lets it. Instead, rubbing at his eyes, he reaches back for Asta to all but drape himself against the other man, nosing against the side of his neck and inhaling a slow, deep breath scented with blood and smoke and honey.

”Gods, I wish I had known that yesterday,” he whispers, his voice rough with relief and exhaustion. ”Not that it it makes what happened any better, but…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, assuming Asta already knows where his thoughts are going.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

Bolstered by the whiplash and the slight hysteria, the butcher guides the Maverick over toward the little den where he can unroll the butcher’s roll to reveal the specific feather in question. Still sore and stiff, complete with a black eye but clean at the very least, he tucks it back away in the leather to look back over at Danta with the laughter that spills from his lips – an overwhelming sense of emotions that are likely battling within him.

“Yes,” he pauses, cut off by the way Danta reaches back for him and drapes himself against him – his good arm coming up to wrap around the blonde Ancient to keep him close despite how the bruises scream under the pressure. His head tilts slightly into against his cheek in the momentary hold they have, closing his eyes and letting his prior panic finally start to slip away. In hindsight, he should have told him sooner about it but having forgotten and let it slip from his mind, it’s no surprise it had just become part of his wardrobe on his outings and nothing worth mentioning.

His good hand lifts up, stroking through blonde strands until his fingers drop at Danta’s neck, stroking a gentle massaging pattern against any tense muscles found from the stress of the previous day. “I should have said earlier.” He hums softly, soaking in the moment despite the pain. “You could not get rid of me that easily, darling.” It feels somewhat safe to joke about now, with the figurative undo-button in his butcher knife roll.

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Danta writes slow, soft apologies with his lips against the side of the butcher's throat; he knows the price of affection in this moment is exquisitely painful for the other man, but he's not strong enough to step away from him. He hasn't been for a long while now. "That would have been nice, yeah," he says with a quiet breath of laughter between kisses, slowly loosening his grip on Asta to hold him more gently, like something delicate or precious beneath his hands.

"I never want to be rid of you," he tells him, quiet but earnest, smiling another kiss against the underside of his jaw and leaning shamelessly into the warm hand that strokes through his hair. "So if you're planning to stay down here today, let me know and I'll tell everyone including the workers to take a paid day off. But if you think you can manage to get upstairs, we can go right now."

Peering up at Asta with weariness stitched into his expression, even the smile, Danta lets out a long, deep sigh. "You know, maybe it would be worth organising that trip away..."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

The warmth of the kisses pressed to his throat is almost enough to distract from the sore bruises that have bloomed darker over time, but even still the butcher is a glutton for punishment with how he leans into the touch again and again. “Oh, gods no, darling. I will gladly suffer through any further pain to go and be in our bed.” Where he can curl up until he feels a little less painful and stop taking up the majority of their business space.

His fingers stroke gentle massaging motions against Danta’s neck before it trails down his spine slowly, seeking out his hand once he’s tucked the butcher knife roll in his back pocket, stiffly turning toward the door that would lead them to the hall with the stairs to their room. “You should. It would be good for you.” He pauses so he can focus on the time it takes to get to the stairs, peering up them with a long deep-rooted hatred.

“Perhaps I will reach out to Flora and see if I can spend time in the Wildering House while you are gone. It would keep me out of trouble.” He suggests, sending his dark gaze back over toward Danta with a small twitch of a smile that’s broken up by the pain of taking one of the steps to start.

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"I was hoping you would say that," Danta confesses with a tired smile, head tipping down against the butcher's skilled fingers at the back of his neck. If Asta keeps this up the Maverick is liable to fall asleep right where he stands, so it's a saving grace, almost, that he catches hold of his hand in the end. "Not as good as being upstairs is about to be for me," he objects, bringing Asta's hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles and following at his pace as he approaches the door upstairs.

"You think Flora and Wildering House are going to keep you out of trouble?" He tilts his head at that, not bothering to hide the smile that spreads across his face. "That would be nice, though," he agrees. "I'm not even sure where I would go. I do have a meeting in King's End - your favourite, I know - but that's for Theocrat stuff."

Stepping up beside Asta, Danta slips himself beneath the butcher's good arm to lend him his weight to get to the top of the stairs, taking it as slow or as screamingly quick as the other man's pace allows. "How are you doing?" he asks softly as they approach the door to their room - a door he wastes no time in unlocking.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

He knows that with the release of all those pent up emotions and the fact that Danta hasn’t slept all night that it was only a matter of time before he’d succumb to the exhaustion he likely feels. And not one to continue wanting to take up more space in a place that isn’t entirely his like their room is, the butcher’s quick to confirm going upstairs as he snags the other man’s hand, watching with open affection and fondness to feel the press of warm lips against his knuckles – knuckles that are blissfully free of bruising and pain.

Reaching the stairs, though, he takes one with a small hesitation, glancing over at the Maverick when he announces potential plans – even if King’s End is the last place the butcher wants to go. Cold, dreary, probably muddy, with that stupid demigod. But, business was business, and Danta deserves to have some time away from everything. That much the butcher understands – and now that it’s Flowerbirth and he’s had plenty of time to recover from his emotional barrage over the last couple of seasons, Asta is capable of withstanding being away from Danta enough to let him have a pass at whatever he decides to get up to in the haunted region.

“I think that the spirits may try.” He rumbles as he clenches his teeth to take another few steps, tail swishing with slight annoyance for the pain it sparks up his spine. “Perhaps you can make a vacation out of it? No rules so you can do whatever you want and require, how does that sound, love?” He asks quietly once they reach the door to their room.

As for how he’s feeling, he can’t wait to get within the confines of their space – excited enough about the prospect that he pushes himself a touch harder than he probably should and winces as he slips into the room and sparks the fire to roar even higher. “I am… Incredibly sore. Now that my arm is not as bad, the rest of my body has decided to remind me it exists.” Flashing an apologetic smile to Danta, he drops his hand to remove the leather roll of knives on the table as he passes by it on a mission to reach the bed.

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"A King's End vacation?" Danta repeats with a skeptical raise of his eyebrows, though the idea does have some merit he supposes. It's away from the Grounds, he can join Asta and Flora in Torchline afterwards, and there is the House of Midnight out there. "...I guess that sounds good," he says slowly, a smile starting to creep across his lips as he gives the thought a chance to fully blossom.

He's already cementing the hypothetical details as they finally step into the warm familiarity of their room, Danta shutting and locking the door as the other man peels himself away to make a beeline for the bed. "...Yeah, I bet." He cringes on Asta's behalf, taking a moment to kick off his shoes and peel off his shirt before following, every part of him starting to feel heavier as he gets close to the prospect of sleep.

"You took those painkillers, right? So hopefully soon it should die down. And I suppose I can tolerate sleeping on a pillow instead of on you to save you from hurting more." His sigh is dramatic but accepting, Danta already drawing back the covers to crawl beneath them.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash