// too many war wounds and not enough wars //
It feels right to come here, specifically, to do this. To ask this.
This, after all, is where it had begun for the Ancients - not just for Danta, but for every fiery-souled individual blessed with Dygra's touch. And so he takes himself out from the Hollowed Grounds before dawn, stepping through the bonfire to The Climb, and makes his solemn way to the Obsidian Cathedral.
Danta enters at mid-morning on bare, silent feet, wearing little more than a pair of torn pants and the blood from whatever kill he'd made along the way. It still drips from bejewelled fingers, from his chin, from the tips of fair hair made crimson, smeared across his chest and flecked along the length of his tail. This blood, though, is not for Dygra. Only his own will do for that precious offering.
Opening a cut with a small blade across his chest over his heart, the Maverick pauses before the obsidian bowl, presses his hand to the scarlet line beginning to weep, and paints his name against the black gemstones. Only once that is done does he step back, sinking reverently to his knees.
"Dark lady," he purrs, resting his hands atop his thighs, letting his eyes fall shut. "I beggar a moment of your time for your humble servant. What I have to ask is no small thing, but it concerns us all. Will you hear me?"
Danta is using his COTY 316 PC pass for an INTIMATE, PLOT-REVEALING CONVERSATION with Dygra. (Oooh. Ahhh.)
This, after all, is where it had begun for the Ancients - not just for Danta, but for every fiery-souled individual blessed with Dygra's touch. And so he takes himself out from the Hollowed Grounds before dawn, stepping through the bonfire to The Climb, and makes his solemn way to the Obsidian Cathedral.
Danta enters at mid-morning on bare, silent feet, wearing little more than a pair of torn pants and the blood from whatever kill he'd made along the way. It still drips from bejewelled fingers, from his chin, from the tips of fair hair made crimson, smeared across his chest and flecked along the length of his tail. This blood, though, is not for Dygra. Only his own will do for that precious offering.
Opening a cut with a small blade across his chest over his heart, the Maverick pauses before the obsidian bowl, presses his hand to the scarlet line beginning to weep, and paints his name against the black gemstones. Only once that is done does he step back, sinking reverently to his knees.
"Dark lady," he purrs, resting his hands atop his thighs, letting his eyes fall shut. "I beggar a moment of your time for your humble servant. What I have to ask is no small thing, but it concerns us all. Will you hear me?"
Danta is using his COTY 316 PC pass for an INTIMATE, PLOT-REVEALING CONVERSATION with Dygra. (Oooh. Ahhh.)
Dantalion
// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
