// light shines in the darkness //
"Mm, not so different to Ancients in some respects," Danta notes absently. Freezing to death (or death-adjacent, for them) or being devoured are likely some of the most common ways for their kind to go, he imagines. Not that he much cares beyond that perfunctory comment, not when he's settling himself astride the butcher, distracted by the shifting muscles of his back and shoulders as he gets himself comfortable.
The edges of Asta's grin are just about visible before he speaks, Danta finding his smile contagious as always, and he lifts his shoulders in a breezy shrug. "Let's reserve our judgement, shall we?" He says through a soft laugh. The Maverick has, after all, put his hands on the butcher before, but he's not half drunk on sunshine now. His fingers are firm and unrelenting as they focus on the rougher areas of scarring that bands across the tops of Asta's shoulders, working into the deadened tissue as if to bring it back to life under his touch.
"Tell me if it's too much?" he murmurs, trusting the butcher to do just that and already imagining what he might be able to do with some of those clever oils Flora had in her possession.
The edges of Asta's grin are just about visible before he speaks, Danta finding his smile contagious as always, and he lifts his shoulders in a breezy shrug. "Let's reserve our judgement, shall we?" He says through a soft laugh. The Maverick has, after all, put his hands on the butcher before, but he's not half drunk on sunshine now. His fingers are firm and unrelenting as they focus on the rougher areas of scarring that bands across the tops of Asta's shoulders, working into the deadened tissue as if to bring it back to life under his touch.
"Tell me if it's too much?" he murmurs, trusting the butcher to do just that and already imagining what he might be able to do with some of those clever oils Flora had in her possession.
Dantalion
// and the darkness will never understand it //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
