in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"Ah," Danta murmurs with a gentle nod of understanding; somehow knowing that the blood is as a result of something Asta has chosen to do makes it easier to swallow. His attention sharpens as the butcher slowly peels off his shirt, though, letting himself be tugged further into the cabin so he can properly examine the strange, frostburn marks that mark his chest.
"They look nasty," he mutters, reaching out to press warm hands to the scar tissue just beyond the imprint of those ghostly hands, where he hopes it won't be so sore. "Does it hurt?" he asks automatically, already able to feel the tension creeping back into his shoulders and jaw. Clearing his throat suddenly and stepping out of Asta's grip to ruffle his fingers through his hair, the Maverick is evidently at a loss of what to do with himself.
Because Asta is already okay, more or less, so there's nowhere to put the sudden spike of outrage and upset.
"They look nasty," he mutters, reaching out to press warm hands to the scar tissue just beyond the imprint of those ghostly hands, where he hopes it won't be so sore. "Does it hurt?" he asks automatically, already able to feel the tension creeping back into his shoulders and jaw. Clearing his throat suddenly and stepping out of Asta's grip to ruffle his fingers through his hair, the Maverick is evidently at a loss of what to do with himself.
Because Asta is already okay, more or less, so there's nowhere to put the sudden spike of outrage and upset.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
