[Training] burn butcher burn

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

It’s afternoon by the time the butcher has finally sequestered Danta toward the Temple. The sun hangs low in the sky, leaving the Inner Quarter with a dusky leadchange appearance, the scent of rain lingering like a blanket with the humidity. No screams thus far, at least, and with the one track mind to get Danta to the temple while encountering as little people on the way as possible.

He succeeds for the most part, refraining from snarling too much at the one person that stops to greet their Theocrat before immediately moving on as Asta’s shadows seem to pull into him with the threat.

All in all, they manage it, and Asta only marginally relaxes the second the door closes behind them in the Temple, realizing for perhaps the fifteenth time since they'd left the Dusklight how much of an imposition this was on his fiance. The cane sits loosely in his hand, the multi-colored blade glinting in the dim lighting. “It does not have to be much, darling. I will leave the choice to you whether to use the cane as is or in its whip form, or even both. The button shall change it.” The instructions flow easily as the butcher turns toward Danta to hand it off.

His hand is slow to be removed from the cane, but only because the other one keeps Danta close, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek then to the bridge of his nose, then to his lips as if he’s confident he’ll be okay. He wears a dark black and rather floofy shirt, if only to not ruin the kind he prefers to wear every other season. And as he withdraws, empty handed, he’s really anything but. “Thank you.” He hums, prepping himself as he shoots him a shark toothed grin that he hopes conveys his emotions on this topic — the utter confidence he has in his soon to be husband that there would be a way to not get lost in it.

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

Luckily for Asta, and for the majority of the people they might encounter, Danta has no desire to be social this afternoon. The chill in the air from the setting sun and the persistent threat of rain has most people inside or otherwise gathering towards the Everlasting Bonfire, and so other than the single poor sap who tries and fails to greet him, they are unmolested on their path to the Temple.

All but glued to his fiance's side, the Maverick glances fleetingly towards the still unfinished fountain as they pass by it. He wishes, not for the first time since agreeing to this, that it was already spilling healing wine from its jagged proportions - just in case. Instead it remains inert as they head in through the main doors, Danta only half listening to the butcher's instructions about his cane, tail flicking restlessly at his heels.

"Alright," he says regardless, fingers strumming absently against Asta's bare skin where he's worked his hand shamelessly beneath the hem of his shirt. He's slow to release the other man as well, leaning into every offered kiss, and when the cane is handed off to him he holds onto it only loosely, as if worried the weapon might carry his bloodthirsty desires with it.

"My pleasure." His smile doesn't reach his eyes, and he sneaks one last kiss to the corner of Asta's mouth before parting from him at last. Heading deeper into the Temple where they'll have space to work, the sconces burn bright and merry, warmth threading the air and mingling with spice and incense. He can see a few acolytes at work, and he won't be surprised if they have an audience by the end of this.

Turning to face the butcher at last, he holds the cane in both hands as if testing its weight, before nodding towards him. "Your move."

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

The second they’re sequestered in the Temple itself and Asta is peppering his fiance with kisses, he gets a full view of just how dim the Maverick is. Worried, it seems, that it’ll be a repeat of that day long ago in Torchline, never mind the fact that they’d taken the precautions this time. Bloodlust’s sated, a specific space chosen for the task at hand, and while the healing fountain wasn’t completed yet, it wasn’t that big of a deal when they had the rage room a few steps away.

The quick press of the kiss to the corner of his lips has him straightening a bit, following his fiance deeper into the Temple before Danta’s turning to face him, testing the weight of the cane. He catches sight of the acolytes nearby, though, and as he smooths down the portion of his shirt that had lifted up his hip from Danta’s hand on the trek over, he shoots him a soft yet still sharp smile. “Actually, darling, let’s try this.” He murmurs, turning toward the door that the rage room is hidden within, guiding the Maverick in before he shuts the door behind them.

It looks precisely as it had when they’d built it, and he wonders just how many times these bottles and weaponry have been broken and used only to be reset when the doors open again. He steps further in, turning back toward Danta with a bit more relief to not have the audience nor the lingering wounds that will probably come from the sharp cane. “Better.” He decides comfortably, rolling his sleeves up before he’s summoning fire at his fingertips, balls of flame settling in his hands as he doesn’t let his lover get too into his head about it before he launches one of the balls of fire at him.

1/4

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

"Hm?" Danta's brow furrows when Asta doesn't immediately lunge for him, having been steeling himself for their little training bout to begin. But it appears the butcher doesn't want an audience and would also prefer to err on the side of caution, and something eases in the Maverick's shoulders as he's directed to the rage room instead. "I did think you were putting an awful lot of faith in me," he mumbles as they step inside, the warm space seeming heavy and quiet as the door swings shut behind them, as though it still holds the memories of everything that has happened within.

Danta spends a few moments pushing things back against the wall where possible, so they have a little more space to move, and by the time he's finished Asta is declaring that he's ready, and so he turns with the cane in hand to wait for the butcher to begin.

What he doesn't expect is a ball of fire - born an Ancient, Danta doesn't so much as try to move away from it, and it catches him on the shoulder and singes through the shirt he's wearing. Raising an eyebrow and glancing down at his unmarked skin beneath, he almost smiles. "Did... you forget we're fireproof, or is this you trying to pull your punches?" he asks.

Regardless, Asta has asked the Maverick not to take the same care, and so when he lunges forward himself, he lashes out with the cane - still inert in its usual form, at least - at full strength.

---

1/4 Danta tries to thwack Asta with the cane!

Threaded Cane | A metal walking cane which, at the press of a button, breaks into conjoined shards to form a serrated whip. The range of the whip is 10ft. Should the cane be used as a weapon on its own, it will only ever do Basic damage.
Type: Dark | Style: Offensive | Level: Basic | Cost: Action

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

It’s done with a purpose, even as Danta doesn’t move. And he peers across at his lover with a small smirk blooming on his face as it nails him in the shoulder and singes through the shirt, precisely as he’d planned. “I did not forget, no-” He starst to explain before Danta’s absolutely not giving him a moment of explanation.

He isn’t sure why he thought he would, truthfully, but as the sharp cane is lashed out at him with all the power behind Danta’s lunge, there’s power and purpose behind it that Asta mistakes as he suddenly scrambles to move. The bladed edge of the cane lashes out, slamming into his arm as he steps to the side, cutting deep enough to immediately start beading up blood to the surface and soaking through his dark shirt.

“Shit,” he laughs, turning back toward Danta and trying to step out of the range of the cane at this distance. “Did it occur to you that maybe I wished to lessen the tension by undressing you?” He asks as his shadow starts to warble swiftly, launching a bottle from nearby to Danta’s feet to hopefully trip him or distract him enough that he can launch toward the Maverick with his shoulder to throw him off balance.

---

2/4 Asta uses a mix of Peter Pan and semi shoulder checks him to try and get him off balance.

Peter Pan (Ancient): Can control their own shadow. Shadows are 2D, have a strength of 15 and can weakly effect physical objects around them
Type: Dark | Rank: Mastered | Cost: Action

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

Something in him immediately wants to recoil as the razor sharp metal of the cane connects with the butcher's flesh, Danta hissing in a breath through his teeth and wincing as he darts back. Another part, though, relishes the iron in the air, the way the blow had vibrated up and through his arm, the thirst to enact more violence and do more damage. "Oh? Is it working?" he wonders, already sounding a little too distracted for humour, and as Asta rushes forward and his shadows flicker, the Maverick is forced to make a decision.

He opts to take the bottle to the shins, the glass shattering on impact and scattering across the stone floor, and though Danta will be left bleeding and with a slight limp, it does let him dart to the side to avoid the blow to the shoulder. "Maybe we can save the undressing for after," he suggests, thumb grazing over the button on the cane before pressing down firmly to activate the whip.

Lashing out with it and feeling strangely powerful as the weight flexes through his arm and his wrist, he isn't aiming for anywhere in particular, as long as it's at the butcher.

---

2/4 Danta takes the bottle to the shins and sidesteps the shoulder check, then activates the whip and attacks with it!

Threaded Cane | A metal walking cane which, at the press of a button, breaks into conjoined shards to form a serrated whip. The range of the whip is 10ft. Should the cane be used as a weapon on its own, it will only ever do Basic damage.
Type: Dark | Style: Offensive | Level: Basic | Cost: Action

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

“Partially.” The butcher answers as he moves, internally wincing as the bottle slams into Danta’s shins and shatters, another spark of the scent of blood blooming in the confines of the room. But he misses the shoulder check, which grants him distance from Danta in a way that he thinks is a good thing, until he hears the click of the button on the cane.

Turning back toward him, the comment is lost on him as he sees the beautifully destructive arc of the bladed pieces, sharp, serrated, and glinting in the dim lighting of the Rage Room as it arcs. He’d always thought it was a beautiful creation, mainly when wielded by his hand, but as he sees it from the other side… well, it was actually much more menacing than he’d even thought.

As such, there isn’t really a way to avoid it, and as Danta aims it at him in whichever way he can, the butcher hops back to try and evade it, the sharp edges catching on the flow of his shirt and tearing it straight through the middle, leaving little small scratches against his chest where it hadn’t quite sunk in enough yet. It’s paired with the slight hiss that escapes him from having to react so fast.

He grits his teeth in what appears to be a grin before man becomes canine, the fyrhund hopeful for the additional and small barrier of plates that it bears might make it less destructive if the whip portion snags his skin as he launches again at Danta, trying to get him off balance again, maw aiming for Danta’s already bleeding leg.

---

3/4 Asta kinda avoids the whip portion as it lashes out for him and shifts to his fyrhund to launch at Danta and tries to knock him off balance again by going for his already wounded leg!

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

A flicker of a snarl passes through Danta's expression as he realises he hasn't hit as directly as he'd have liked, but it's gone soon enough as man becomes fyrhund and he's force to reevaluate the situation. Asta is surprisingly agile in this shift, something the Maverick already knows too well, and as he lunges in close the whip becomes less practical than before. But he doesn't try to recall it back into its cane form, not yet.

As the fyrhund dives for his leg, Danta will do his best to avoid jagged teeth and rocky plating (though he's only partially successful) and wraps his fingers hard around the bladed whip. Blood instantly springs to the surface, but if anything he relishes the deep sting of pain, trying to wrangle the weapon around Asta's neck to try and throttle him with it. He only needs to get through a small gap in the plating, and he's confident he can manage it.

---

3/4 Danta gets skimmed with the fyrhund's teeth, then attempts to use the whip to throttle Asta. (Slicing his hand to ribbons in the process).

Threaded Cane | A metal walking cane which, at the press of a button, breaks into conjoined shards to form a serrated whip. The range of the whip is 10ft. Should the cane be used as a weapon on its own, it will only ever do Basic damage.
Type: Dark | Style: Offensive | Level: Basic | Cost: Action

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

He’s always known Danta had that spark of insanity in him. A few years of this more domestic, free side of him wouldn’t have washed away the more feral parts of his fiancé. And he witnesses it first hand as he launches toward him, aimed for the leg that his teeth graze but don’t sink into yet, and he’s stopped quite abruptly by the suddenly very real and very sharp collar around his neck held by hands that cut into the bladed portion of the whip.

It does sink down into the plates of his neck, though, with just about as much ease as it would for his human form. A sharp, canine whine escapes him with it and the butcher runs wholly off of instinct at that point – suddenly trapped and corralled by his own weaponry. Fyrhund becomes man again with this sharp collar digging into his throat and leaking far more blood than he probably should be.

Instinct has him holding his breath as much as he can while he reaches up with a hand cloaked in shadow from his Haunt and forcing some space between the sharp whip and his throat so he can at least breathe with the exhale, but it digs into his hand all the same too. And all at once, he pushes up as he tilts his chin up to slide the whip up and off him, while his other cloaked hand grabs onto Danta’s leg and pulls hard to get him to either have to let go of the whip portion or succumb to the ground.

Either way, the ground is suddenly very slick, as are the butcher's hands.

---

4/4 Asta's caught by Danta and uses a combination of his shadows from his Haunt to cloak his hands to get himself unstuck (and cut the fuck up) and pull at Danta's leg really hard to get him to either let go or fall).

Haunt (Ancient): Can distort their form and the surrounding environment within 30ft to reflect their most monstrous, primal self.
Type: Dark | Rank: Mastered | Cost: Action

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

The whine is music to Danta's ears, a bloodied and dark grimace on his lips as the fyrhund is forced to shift back into something much easier to slice to pieces. And with Asta now facing away from him it's easier still for the Maverick to succumb to the part of him that relishes cruelty and control, the part that went without for long enough that even the whisper of a chance at retribution is enough to put his better nature to sleep.

Still, he doesn't expect the shadowed interruption making it difficult to see the placement of the butcher's hands, and he hisses out a curse as the other man suddenly frees himself and grabs for him. Unwilling to release the whip for anything at this point, though, he goes down hard and opts to keep hold of it. The ground is too slick suddenly to be able to get back up with any ease, and it's a little difficult to move his fingers thanks to the mess of them from the whip, so it takes a few tries to reach the button.

But reach it Danta does, retracting the serrated edges back into a sharp and deadly weapon, one he promptly uses to strike up at Asta.

---

4/4 Danta gets grabbed and goes down, and retracts the whip back into its cane-form to attack Asta with it!

Threaded Cane | A metal walking cane which, at the press of a button, breaks into conjoined shards to form a serrated whip. The range of the whip is 10ft. Should the cane be used as a weapon on its own, it will only ever do Basic damage.
Type: Dark | Style: Offensive | Level: Basic | Cost: Action

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

It’s a lot, surprising the butcher. They’d had their bloody battles before, but there’s something different about this blade as opposed to what they’d had at their disposal back in the Climb. And if he were back to who he was back then, you’d bet he’d have already gone full haunt rather than let the puncture of all the serrated edges of the blade sink in like teeth, leaving his skin raw and broken, pouring blood like it’s trying to make its own variant of the crimson cataract.

At least he manages to get Danta down, though, even if it isn’t without its own battle. His hand torn up just as much as Danta’s is, cuts streaking up his jaw and cleaving his beard, and with so much blood between them on the ground it’s nearly impossible for Asta to stand in the time it takes Danta to get the whip back into its cane form, struck up at him. He twists in time for it to carve up his shoulder, slicing off a decent portion of his dark hair that’s become wild from their fight, dripping with blood.

He hisses a curse, one that feels far too puffy and swollen in his throat for it to be anything good, and waits for the moment that Danta’s arms are above him from the force of the slice with the cane. He surges onto him, trying to pin his hands down despite the pain that shoots and radiates up his elbow and arm, heaving breaths where his throat continues to leak blood down from the collar that had been around his neck.

“Yield.” He says, before he tries to swallow and correct himself. “I yield.”

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

It isn't enough for Danta, the Maverick growling something vicious under his breath as the cane only manages to snick off a section of the butcher's dark hair and nothing more. He's preparing to try again, or to buck and thrash to get the other man off him, when suddenly the butcher's weight is pinning him down and it's all Danta can do to keep hold of the weapon. He does keep hold of it though, whether or not he's capable of doing more damage, and at the first word that grates from Asta's lips - yield - he responds with a savage snap of his teeth up at his face.

Only as he clarifies - I yield - does something like sense try to worm its way through the haze of violence in Danta's mind, because never in The Climb had those words formed in the taller Ancient's voice. He blinks, teeth clenched now, chest heaving, and as the first drops of crimson splash onto his cheek from Asta's throat, he flinches.

"Open the door," he whispers suddenly, fingers going slack against the weapon in his hands. "Please."

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

Like it was back then, the butcher doesn’t flinch from the snap of teeth. Not while he gets his correction underway, the fact that he knows the blonde Ancient so thoroughly that the correction was the important part – because never once had Asta ever yielded to Danta. They had never yielded to each other previously – more often than not pulled apart before they could do any true lasting damage by observers.

This, though, was entirely on them. And as the blood splashes down onto his lover’s face and it streaks down the side of that handsomely sharp jawline, his body aches and pulses with each slice through his flesh, the hair that’s spread across the bloody floor and clinging to the portions of them still wet and sticky with blood.

His flinch isn’t missed, nor is his question, and as the whisper and the please leaves him, Asta’s immediately moving. He’s trying to stand, slipping not once but twice when his boot hits the bloody floor not quite well enough to retain traction. His tail whips behind him once he finally manages it, crossing the distance between the door and where they’d succumbed to their fight, leaning heavily on the door and smearing handprints of blood in the process.

He opens it, the world around them resets, his hair back to normal, no more pain and blood soaking through his shirt and down his skin, and only once he’s positive it’s worked on Danta too does he close the door again and sink back against it, half bent with his hands braced against his knees. “Darling, are you okay?” He winces despite his attention flickering from the floor to the Maverick with the question, chest still rising and falling as he catches his breath and his wits about him again.

Perhaps this was a terrible idea.

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

Danta doesn't move as Asta slip-slides to his feet, though he does let the cane roll from his nerve damaged fingers and across the bloody stone. By the time the door opens and the evening light spills in onto them, however briefly, everything is clean, quiet, reset. No shards of glass littering the floor, no blood soaking into the flagstones, no torn flesh or singed fabric or stink of iron hanging in the air. It's just the two of them again, as if the past few minutes had never happened.

"No." The admission is freely given to the butcher in a way it would never be for anyone else. Danta swallows hard and rolls onto his side on the cool stone, curling into himself as if continuing to follow some old, post-fight ritual despite it being all over. His cheeks are wet but he doesn't remember starting to cry, his tail coiling tightly around one of his legs. "Sorry." For not keeping it together during their fight and for not bouncing back now, for the pain and the blood, for enjoying it while it was happening.

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me