laps up the vice like a wolf in the night

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

It's a messy fight - a far cry, in truth, from some of their dalliances in the past. Those fights would have garnered audiences, would have brought raucous cheers or hisses of surprise to the gathered crowds. This, though, is a mockery of that sort of thing, especially as Danta finds himself unceremoniously pinned by the butcher, his hands and wrists flexing viciously as he tries to free himself. He snaps at the blood that drips from Asta's shoulder, flecking his cheek and filling his nose with the metallic scent of it.

"I'll fucking kill you--" Danta snarls, and it's with overbright eyes that see nothing of the man above him other than meat and sinew that he drives his knee up and between Asta's legs, fighting to roll them over and reverse their positions. The world around him has reduced to the drip of crimson from Asta's shoulder and the immediate objects around him that he might be able to use; fire poker, table leg, wine bottle. Nothing else matters.

Dantalion