I told you, you were brave

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

It might be a surprise for them both that Danta doesn't immediately let his glamour drop - and more so that he hasn't lost his grip on it accidentally - but either way, Asta's fingers are able to smooth through the soft waves of his hair unhindered. Grumbling a sound of soft protest to feel the other man move away, even if it's for something as apparently necessary of cleaning up the mess he'd made, Danta folds back into the butcher's arms as soon as he's able, as if he'd been deprived of his touch for days rather than mere seconds.

It is peace he feels, he realises as he tucks his head beneath Asta's chin (and without the sharp curve of his horns, the gesture is a perfectly safe one), letting his eyes drop shut once more and his arms slip around the other man. Letting out a long sigh against his chest, one that has him relaxing completely into his grip, it takes a further few minutes for Danta to even consider breaking the spell that has fallen over them.

"Move whatever you want in here," he mumbles, his voice rough and sweet and quiet. "Move it all in. Just stay."

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //