tell me what you need

// there's shadows on the walls //

It doesn't feel as good as it usually does, to watch something break and splinter, to cause chaos and wanton destruction. And only as Danta realises what exactly he's thrown - even before he sees the look on Asta's face - his anger becomes a rapidly shrinking thing, dwarfed by an uncomfortable knot of guilt and shame. "Fuck," he snaps, by which time the butcher is already leaving.

"Fuck," Danta says again, more quietly as he's left alone with a pool of wine and glass and pieces of bone, and he bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste copper. "Asta," he calls almost belatedly, his feet carrying him nimbly over the debris as he hops across the doorway entirely, trying to hurry down the stairs after the other man. "Asta, wait--"

Dantalion

// of moments far too troubling to recall //