you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god
Having heard the rich sound of Asta's voice before - albeit drunk and whilst swaying to some old tune he'd never stand a chance at remembering, it nevertheless relaxes Danta to the point where he feels less like he's learning and more like they're actually dancing. Smiling to himself despite everything (never had he expected to be able to behave or concentrate for long enough to act a true gentlemen, especially in the butcher's presence), as Asta offers conversation as a distraction, Danta's smile is as amused as it is quietly confident. (And how misplaced that confidence will be).
"Oh, you have?" Raising his eyebrows at the mention of lost magic, because of course Danta is nothing but thrilled to hear the butcher continuing to return to his previously menacing self - not that he isn't absolutely a force to be reckoned with again nowadays - he waits expectantly for him to expand on it. His brow furrows as he feels their steps slow, and the question is on the tip of his tongue when finally Asta comes out with it.
And for a second Danta can see it in his mind's eye; shadows writhing against the cramped tunnel walls of The Climb, a too wide smile, blood and viscera and skeletal stitchwork looming impossibly tall as Astaroth made his slow and steady approach. Entirely on instinct, the Maverick twitches back, briefly disturbing their waltz but not enough to entirely fall out of step. "Right," he says quickly, clearing his throat and plastering on a smile.
"Good for you, Asta. If I recall that was one of your favourites."
"Oh, you have?" Raising his eyebrows at the mention of lost magic, because of course Danta is nothing but thrilled to hear the butcher continuing to return to his previously menacing self - not that he isn't absolutely a force to be reckoned with again nowadays - he waits expectantly for him to expand on it. His brow furrows as he feels their steps slow, and the question is on the tip of his tongue when finally Asta comes out with it.
And for a second Danta can see it in his mind's eye; shadows writhing against the cramped tunnel walls of The Climb, a too wide smile, blood and viscera and skeletal stitchwork looming impossibly tall as Astaroth made his slow and steady approach. Entirely on instinct, the Maverick twitches back, briefly disturbing their waltz but not enough to entirely fall out of step. "Right," he says quickly, clearing his throat and plastering on a smile.
"Good for you, Asta. If I recall that was one of your favourites."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
