hold you to the light, let you shine

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Good, because I would love nothing more than to show you," Danta says, accepting the easy affection, even as the butcher forces his attention away from his quarry to steal a kiss from his lips. Nipping hard at the ther man's lower lip but watching him retreat to the door with a feral sort of warmth nonetheless, the Maverick finally allows himself to fully take in the stag. He rolls his shoulders as if relaxing into the moment, and already the creature is beginning to paw at the wooden boards and skitter into any available space that Danta isn't.

It's as if it knows already that things aren't as they seem - which, correct. It won't save it, though.

Having been aware of the thing beneath his skin for some time now, this is nonetheless Danta's first time properly using the shift. Even so, his transition into scale and leathery wings and rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth is a smooth one, and where once the Theocrat had stood, a lyvern prowls in its place, claws raking at the wood.

The stag lets out a bleat of utter panic, but before it can so much as buck or try to dart away, Danta is upon it. His jaws fasten around its flank, tearing and snapping and gushing dark blood onto the ground, and it's already downed when he goes for its throat, ripping it out entirely.

Dantalion