witching hour

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

"It doesn't feel that way--" Danta objects. It doesn't feel okay, or as though everything has been tied up in a neat little bow. It's as though his body is still back in the woods in the handful of seconds prior to Safrin's appearance. He can smell Asta's blood in the air, hear it bubbling in his lungs with each breath, feel the way his body is broken and wrong even as he helps him to his feet, and gods there's just nowhere for him to put those sensations now that they're wiped clean as if they didn't happen.

Still, with the butcher's hands as anchor points over his own, and then the distance closing between them, the Maverick closes eyes that are starting to prickle with unwanted emotion. He's at least still himself enought to scowl and swat at Asta's chest with a bitten out, "I don't want to fucking breathe with you--" before his body is complying for him. 

Forcing a slow inhale into protesting lungs and letting it out in a shuddering sigh, it takes a handful of repetitions where the only sound comes from the crackling fire, before Danta is relaxed enough to step properly back into the other man's space, winding both arms and tail around him as if to fit perfectly against his body. "That really scared me, out there," he admits in a whisper.

Dantalion

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