in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
The quiet growl that rises in Danta's throat at the butcher's kiss is one he has absolutely no control over; lost in instinct and death and feasting, all his mind can comprehend is that Asta might be trying to take from him. That knee-jerk violence is tempered somewhat, at least, by his words, and the Maverick returns to the carcass of the wrangler to continue feasting.
He reduces the heart down to little more than a few inedible pieces, tearing next at flesh and muscle and any sweet pieces of whatever's left of the cowboy. Insatiable and out of control, something deep in Danta's soul has needed this for longer than he dares admit; to be allowed not to starve, to be told he can have until he decides it's enough, to quieten the madness and hunger in his blood until it sleeps.
Slumping back into Asta's arms without any idea how long it's been, Danta raises a hand to fruitlessly wipe it across his face. (It makes no difference). "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice pitched low, a sudden weariness in his limbs that he doesn't know how to handle.
He reduces the heart down to little more than a few inedible pieces, tearing next at flesh and muscle and any sweet pieces of whatever's left of the cowboy. Insatiable and out of control, something deep in Danta's soul has needed this for longer than he dares admit; to be allowed not to starve, to be told he can have until he decides it's enough, to quieten the madness and hunger in his blood until it sleeps.
Slumping back into Asta's arms without any idea how long it's been, Danta raises a hand to fruitlessly wipe it across his face. (It makes no difference). "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice pitched low, a sudden weariness in his limbs that he doesn't know how to handle.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
