// sun comin' up on a dream come around //
"It's all about the view, if I remember correctly. Having visited Deimos in The Citadel quite recently, I'm quite keen to skip the part where we freeze the fuck to death, thank you." Grinning as he follows at Asta's heels, the butcher isn't the only one feeling thoroughly relaxed. Having napped almost the entire trip from the Grounds down to King's End - with his head under his wing as a crow, no less - the Maverick is in very high spirits indeed.
He'd kept his greetings polite and brief with those he knows from the House of Midnight, either through business or pleasure, and with no sign of the Lord and Lady at home, he thinks it's probably best not to push his luck - not when Asta seems in such a good mood. Nevertheless, he lingers at the other man's shoulder as he waits for him to open the door, a couple of their bags in hand, his red silk shirt half unbuttoned and his leather pants slung low on his hips.
Whatever quip he's going to make is utterly stolen from him as they do step inside, though, and whatever Danta might have expected, it isn't this. Feeling suddenly overdressed and underdressed all at the same time, the humour fades from his expression, replaced with something quietly curious, and he follows automatically after the butcher to gently nudge him with his shoulder.
"How do you feel?" he asks softly, tilting his head up to look towards the stark sky and the arctic sun. The place screams Ferrox and all the Maverick knows about him, though he sees hints of Astaroth in the bone chimes and trinkets, in the meticulous carvings and expertly stitched hide. "Bet you never thought you'd be bringing someone home with you when you lived here, mm?" He winks.
He'd kept his greetings polite and brief with those he knows from the House of Midnight, either through business or pleasure, and with no sign of the Lord and Lady at home, he thinks it's probably best not to push his luck - not when Asta seems in such a good mood. Nevertheless, he lingers at the other man's shoulder as he waits for him to open the door, a couple of their bags in hand, his red silk shirt half unbuttoned and his leather pants slung low on his hips.
Whatever quip he's going to make is utterly stolen from him as they do step inside, though, and whatever Danta might have expected, it isn't this. Feeling suddenly overdressed and underdressed all at the same time, the humour fades from his expression, replaced with something quietly curious, and he follows automatically after the butcher to gently nudge him with his shoulder.
"How do you feel?" he asks softly, tilting his head up to look towards the stark sky and the arctic sun. The place screams Ferrox and all the Maverick knows about him, though he sees hints of Astaroth in the bone chimes and trinkets, in the meticulous carvings and expertly stitched hide. "Bet you never thought you'd be bringing someone home with you when you lived here, mm?" He winks.
Dantalion
// one hundred years from the empire now //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
