[SE] hold my wood

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

"Gods it's fucking cold," Danta is complaining as they stand outside the Backrooms and in the street behind the Dusklight. He rubs his gloved hands together and tugs the red leather of his coat close against him, frowning at the thick sheets of snow that continue to patter down overhead. Before them, a couple of burly woodcutters are just unloading the very last of many stacks of firewood; enough to keep the Dusklight warm for Longnight and beyond with any luck.

"Thanks, we got it from here," Danta calls his confirmation, though he already hates the idea of carting it inside and into storage. Groaning, he turns towards the doors that would lead into the storage area and swiftly unlocks them, only to nearly pull himself face first into their bulk a second later. "They're fucking frozen shut," he growls, immediately engaging his Scorch magic to start to thaw the icy seams and hinges out. "Give me a hand, would you?"

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

“It is the Eirachi’s turn, I would assume.” The butcher laments alongside Danta, outside and leaning against the wall of the Backrooms as they await the delivery. Dark gloves adorn his hands as well, but without a magical jacket to keep him warm the butcher has opted for a thick black turtleneck beneath a long wool coat, and boots made specifically to ward away any potential chill. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket as he looms like Danta’s more murderous shadow, though rather than it having the hard edge of Leafchange, it’s more so because of the weather and the exhaustion that lines his face and body.

He watches as the woodcutters unload the multiple stacks of fireword, not exerting himself more than he has to until Danta calls it good enough. And honestly? He’d rather they cart it all in, but Danta seems decisive and the butcher imagines that the woodcutters have many other deliveries to get to than help them lug it all the way in. So he pushes off the wall, straightening up just in time for his fiancé to very nearly lose his balance and get a face full of the fire – his hand extending out to steady him once he settles himself and fire licks at his lover’s fingers. “Of course they are.” He sighs, dramatics entering his accented tone as he conjures his own Scorch magic, drifting to the other side of the cart to thaw the seams and hinges, watching as water drips from them only to promptly start to freeze in the small puddle they make.

“Perhaps by next year we will have found a better alternative than metal in winter.” His nose wrinkles as he moves onto the next section, fire flaring a little move through the hinges.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

"Perhaps next year I'll have asked Dygra for a nice volcano in the middle of the Grounds," Danta grumbles, careful to keep his fire away from his gloves so they don't get singed. It takes the two of them and a great deal of careful thawing out, but eventually the back doors to the Dusklight seem to have some give to them. With a deep breath and a hard pull, they come creaking open at last. Danta grabs one of the several stacks of firewood by the twine holding the bundle together, dragging it in front of the door so it will stay open, and then straightens up at last.

"I fucking hate this, Asta," he complains, rolling his shoulders before managing a self-deprecating little laugh. Because if they can't laugh about lower back pain and having to do manual labour for no good reason, what can they find funny? "Alright. I'll go in and make sure there's enough space in the storage room to stack all of this. Can you start moving the logs closer to the door?"

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// you know that this could be your last day here on earth //

Despite himself, Asta can’t help the slight laugh that leaves him, clouding in front of him from the cold outside and the heat of which his body exudes. “A volcano sounds lovely, darling.” He purrs softly as he works the hinges with the fire, and eventually they finally give. Steadying himself against the slippery ground, Asta runs a gloved hand through his hair as Danta preps the door open.

“Oh I am sure you do. It is one of the reasons I was more than happy to leave Halo behind.” He boasts a little proudly, tail flicking contently (which only has a flick of snow flying off in a random direction. “Alright, mi amor.” He hums, but before Danta has a chance to slip out, Asta’s reaching out to snag his hand, tugging him in for a warm, fire licked kiss for the added warmth, before he lets Danta go with a shark-tooth smile.

Once he’s by himself, Asta takes a glance around the back street, figuring he probably has enough space (even if it’ll be tight), and without much more debate, the butcher shifts into his dragon shift – feet planted on the ground in the snow and the cobblestones, carefully snagging each bundle of firewood with the twine to lift and drop on the inside of the door, and when the piles become a bit too much, his muzzle becomes a perfect little boost to give it a slight shove further in.

Astaroth

// so buddy please, won't you smile just for me //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

"Oh, it wasn't because you were chased out for being the Butcher of Whitebrim?" Danta asks with a chipper grin that stops just shy of being shit-eating. "All this time it was just the cold - who would have known?" With the doors propped open, he's just about ready to go in and prep the storage space when the butcher in question snags his hand, and Danta turns to ask what the issue is only to be silenced by a sudden and very necessary kiss.

"Careful, you," he purrs when they part, sneaking another kiss to the corner of his mouth before he promptly disappears, dart!ing inside just in case Asta tries to catch him a second time. It means he's gone for the other man's shift into a massive dragon, Danta only realising what he's looking at when he appears in the doorway full of firewood stacks.

Bursting into laughter and raising his eyebrows at the sight of Asta squashed into the street, he tilts his head as if to try to see behind him. "If a cart runs over your tail it's your own fucking fault," he informs him, then grabs the first stack to dart! inside with it, figuring the going will be a lot faster this way.

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

“A demon of varied varieties.” The butcher purrs back, snickering slightly to let the past remain in the past with the distraction of a kiss. It’s just as necessary for the butcher as it is for keeping Danta from losing his lid, and it works precisely how he wished it to as he withdraws and releases his fiancé in time for him to dart – looking after him with the fondness in his face that seems to suggest he does not have to be careful – and whatever happened after this he’d be willing to find out.

Left to his own devices, however, the butcher shifts into the dragon and starts stacking and nudging the logs into the door frame. It’s a tight fit, wings tucked in tightly, his head dipping when Danta appears again and the laughter tickles something warm within the butcher’s chest. Tilting his head to give him a look (it’s almost Jurassic park-like), there’s a puff of a snort that leaves him (the equivalent of not my fault, obviously). And continues to pile it in as Danta snags the bundles.

Only once the firewood is mostly done does Asta shift back into himself, smoothing out his jacket and stretching, glancing behind him to flash a shark-tooth grin to those he’d inconvenienced in the interim. And nudges them in enough to be able to close the door to keep the chill out, shivering lightly before he starts to hand off the bundles of the firewood to his fiancé.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

if this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together

Darting to and fro to get the bundles of firewood in and out of the heavy snow, Danta has succeeded in making a path into the storage area by the time Asta has finished with his dragoning and is heading inside as well. The butcher won't find him as himself, however - in the dimly lit storeroom he'll find the Maverick in his lava wyrm form all but oozing across the stone floor to ensure there's no damp that might rot the wood when they stack it properly here.

Slithering into the darker corners and spooking out the odd wine spider, eventually Danta realises he's not alone and turns to regard his fiance, slowly beginning to melt into a puddle of lava as he ceases his writhing about. And for shits and giggles - and perhaps the pure joy of not being cold - he shrieks at the butcher and snaps his little jaws at him a few times, as if to remind him of what might happen if he tries to pick him up or get in his way or stack firewood on top of him.

The Maverick

watch the flames climb high into the night

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

It is surprising to see that the Maverick doesn’t come to retrieve the next bundle, so as the butcher drifts further in to try and scout out his lover, he’s soon found by a rampage of two wine spiders scurrying away from the storage room. He avoids them deftly, before he manages to poke his head into the room to find the Maverick in a much smaller form (though no lest feisty for it).

He watches him quietly for a few moments until Danta notices, the wyrm shifting into the pooling puddle of lava. “Oh, I see.” He drawls with a bright grin, hands rising in a placating gesture as the shriek and snaps are aimed at him. “Never fear, darling, I know better.” He murmurs, gesturing to his wrist where the little scar of those very teeth still sit.

Laughing lightly to himself, though, he turns on his heel and starts to snag the firewood, returning and ensuring he doesn’t set them anywhere near where Danta’s small shift is. And as he undoes the twine that keeps them together for transport to set them into the line, he utilizes his peter pan to press and pin it so it won’t fall over in the space he makes for the next bundle that he hauls over.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

If it's possible for a lava wyrm to look smug then Danta manages it in spades, waiting until Asta has wisely retreated (because he is so fierce, obviously) before he gets back to ensuring the space is dry and spider free. When the butcher returns a second time, the Maverick has shifted back onto two feet at least, straightening up and sweeping off his pants. "Look at you, all clever and shadowy and shit," he purrs, swatting Asta playfully with the tip of his tail as he meanders past.

"I'll bring the bundles to you if you want to focus on stacking them. You know I'd just pile them any old way, and then blame people for being clumsy if the whole thing falls on them." Which, apparently, is not what they want to happen. So Danta carts each bundle of logs into the storeroom, setting them down beside Asta so he can decide where to put them, and soon enough it's a nice little system they've got going on. "I can't believe the delivery came in the middle of a fucking blizzard," he mutters as they work, evidently still not over than particular injustice.

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

The smugness of the lava wyrm’s look is just as worrisome as the fearsomeness of his fiance’s own dragon shift and Asta treats them just as equal as he carefully avoids facing any of the wrath the smaller form might. And as he returns, he finds his fiancé back as himself, though still just as smug. “I do love it when you compliment me.” He purrs playfully, smirking over at Danta as he feels the swat from the tail, his own wagging slightly from under the long jacket he still wears.

“Perfect, darling.” He hums, utilizing the peter pan to hold while he stacks in a way that wouldn’t cause it to start to topple the second someone wanted to grab something. He moves down the line and through the stacks as Danta returns with bundles upon bundles, allowing him enough time to sigh dramatically in agreement over the blizzard. “The middle of a blizzard to two Ancients, none the less.” He whines. “Perhaps after this we could take a fire bath?” He suggests, looking over at Danta with a raise of his brow and a slightly eager, if not still tired, grin.

And even if Danta didn’t want to join him, Asta decides he very much would like to lounge in a fire pit for a few hours regardless.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

"Well isn't it lucky that you're very easy to compliment?" Danta says with a sly smile over his shoulder as he hauls another bundle of logs into the store room. They work like that for a bit, the Maverick already feeling his muscles start to burn as he gathers the last of their delivery and corrals it into the small space, and he grumbles to himself as he straightens up at last. "At least the exercise will have kept us warm," he says, though he definitely sounds resentful about it.

Tugging off his gloves to ruffle his fingers through his hair, he nods ready agreement about the fire bath and has to stop himself from immediately abandoning the rest of their preparations to go and do just that. "I'll move everything out of the way of the big fire in our rooms," he says. "We can just lay in it for hours." Already smiling at the idea, while Asta finishes stacking the wood, Danta busies himself with a large piece of card and a marker.

By the time Asta is done, he'll have written something like DONUT TOUCH - FOR LONGNIGHT on the card, propping it in front of the firewood. "There," he announces. "Perfect."

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

“Most certainly, darling.” The butcher practically beams his sharp smile over toward Danta to meet the sly smile shot back his way. But they settle back into work, exhaustion tugging at the butcher’s limbs even though he’s focused on ensuring the piles are steady enough. The promise of the fire bath at the end of it is a boon enough, and one that has him working almost faster if one were to pay attention to him. “That sounds absolutely divine.” He whines, the sound dramatic as it slips past his lips and heavy with his accent.

It doesn’t take too much longer before Asta’s finished up the firewood piles and steps back to see Danta’s little card placed as a sign to not use this firewood just yet, and while he could have adjusted some of the spelling, the butcher hums a soft laugh and wraps his arm around Danta’s middle to tuck him in close. “ Sí. Now, shall we get back to our room and warm up? I think my fingers are already turning grey.” He wiggles his gloved free hand for emphasis, before raising his brows toward his fiancé.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

"Mm, I thought you'd enjoy it," Danta agrees with a smile, fussing about with the placement of the sign for a few seconds before deciding that he's done with it. He straightens just as Asta reaches out to catch him around the middle, the Maverick laughing warmly as he drapes himself against the other man's side. It's difficult to feel the heat rolling off the two of them with the thick layers of clothing, which is all the more reason for them to hurry upstairs and get comfortable, in his opinion.

"Grey?" he echoes, turning them back towards the doors. "That won't do at all. Once you take your gloves off I'll kiss them all back to life," he promises with a wink.

Spending a couple of moments ensuring that the back doors are properly shut and locked again, only then does Danta consider their preparations officially complete. He stamps the snow from his boots and leads them back out towards the front bar, already unbuttoning his coat a little as he feels the heat of the Dusklight wash back over them properly. "Did you want to take a bottle of wine up with us?" he asks.

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

Oh and he does, immensely, evident with the way his tail threatens to wag. He keeps it in line, enough at least such that when the sign is fully placed and Asta bites his tongue on any correction to the spelling. It’s actually kind of adorable and mildy more threatening, he thinks, as he feels Danta drape against his side.

His arm tightens slightly, relishing in the closeness and hiding the yawn the best he can as Danta turns them back toward the doors and he drifts along as though being this close to his fiancé was his favorite place to be (it is). “You are a lifesaver, darling.” He boasts proudly, only releasing Danta to help him check the door. And when everything is satisfactory, Asta starts to slip the gloves off his fingers the closer they get to the bar.

“Ooh, I would love to.” He hums, a little more of a pep in his step with the promise of wine and maybe a snack should they find some on their way. His fingers are tinged a touch grey at the very ends, but he pays the deadened feeling little mind, slipping behind the bar with an easier smile than last season had to greet the workers. He already knows which wine he wants, snagging the bottle with a wink to the bartender before he snags a plate of prosciutto and cheese and looking like a smug cat that’s caught its prey as he returns to Danta’s side. “I thought a Syrah might be nice. Peppery and warm to warm us up, hm?”

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //