when you're close to me

// sun comin' up on a dream come around //

Danta shifts without protest, curling against Asta and keeping his back to the small space gloomily lit up by his ribbon of fire. "It wasn't so bad," he mumbles, and perhaps what's worse is that he means it. "The hunger was bad enough to drive me crazy. Listening to them was a good distraction, kept me grounded. As much as I could be, back in those days." He wrinkles his nose.

Having not dared to conjure any of the restraints that would have kept him from sneaking out until he was needed, or any of the more painful details of his enclosure, instead Danta lets out a long, deep sigh and presses his eyes shut. "Anyway," he mutters, "we're meant to be rewriting this memory."

And now it's the Maverick's turn to tweak and alter the scene to suit his tastes. Beneath them the ground grows plush and comfortable, a bed rising from the stone with a canopy of light and fluttering silks, perfect for shading them from the harsh glare of sunlight. The door and its outline melts back to darkness, before promptly yawning open into a bright and panoramic view of The Climb as they'd have known it before slipping into Dygra's slumber.

Blinking his eyes back open and relaxing into clean sheets and plump pillows, Danta feels the tension begin to unlock from his spine. "This is much better," he purrs.

Dantalion

// one hundred years from the empire now //