// sun comin' up on a dream come around //
Danta knows better - more than better - than to touch the knife protruding from between Asta's ribs, watching with quiet horror as fresh red starts to bloom out around the fabric of his waistcoat. "Fuck," he whispers, under his breath, wiping at his face and swiping away the tears he doesn't realise have even fallen. "It isn't okay," he says, and somewhere in the back of his mind he's aware that this is a nightmarish reversal of roles from the night Asta had given him the scar on his arm.
Still, he hadn't stabbed him in the fucking chest, though.
"Let me help," he says roughly, surging forward to reach an arm around the other man, as if to guide him to his knees without jostling the blade still buried deep etween his ribs. "Gods, I'm so stupid - I didn't realise--" Hissing out a sharp breath as if to stop himself, Danta tries his best to focus on here and now, his free hand slipping around Asta's to further stabilise the hilt of the knife.
"Let's get you on your feet - that's the hardest part," he pants, focusing hard on keeping himself from trembling as he tries to urge the other man to rise, lending him his weight and keeping his gaze pinned on the ground.
Still, he hadn't stabbed him in the fucking chest, though.
"Let me help," he says roughly, surging forward to reach an arm around the other man, as if to guide him to his knees without jostling the blade still buried deep etween his ribs. "Gods, I'm so stupid - I didn't realise--" Hissing out a sharp breath as if to stop himself, Danta tries his best to focus on here and now, his free hand slipping around Asta's to further stabilise the hilt of the knife.
"Let's get you on your feet - that's the hardest part," he pants, focusing hard on keeping himself from trembling as he tries to urge the other man to rise, lending him his weight and keeping his gaze pinned on the ground.
Dantalion
// one hundred years from the empire now //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
