Everything's made to be broken

Dantalion

innocence died screaming
honey, ask me, I should know

"And who decides what is right and what is necessary?" Danta wonders, his brow furrowed and his hand clenching around the glass he holds. "Because for me, it's my goddess. Dygra - I believe you've met her. Entropy, chaos, ring a bell? I promise, nothing about what has happened here would displease her." He has, after all, named himself Theocrat for a reason. "But besides that, ouch. I didn't tell you about my past for you to call me a failure in the present." And down goes the third shot of liquor.

"I'm sure there are countless other ways the situation with that man might have been dealt with. But I didn't make the decision, because it wasn't my job, and it isn't yours - it was Asta's." He shrugs, sliding the glass away lest his eyes start to glaze.

Raising his eyebrows as Maea tries to fight her way out of his questions, eventually all Danta can do is softly shake his head, a sad smile playing across his face. "So are you," he says, if she hasn't realised it yet. "You can fight with me about it here, but you were too afraid to call Asta out at the time? You're still here now, working? You're more complicit than most of the Grounds."

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

Table base by Skylark