// sun comin' up on a dream come around //
It might not be Danta's first time experiencing Asta's haunt, but gods if time and distance haven't made him forget the intensity of it. His feet take him back a few steps even at the first ripple of shadow, lips pulling back from his teeth in a silent snarl. Fire burns low at his feet - fire that will leave scorch marks on the boards that he'll apologise for later - but as the full, monstrous scale of the other man fills the room, there's absolutely nowhere for him to go.
And Danta crushes down the instinct to fight, because that's what had gotten them here in the first place. But without the feral rage to fall back on, the adrenaline turns ice cold in the pit of his stomach, and he's trembling hard as his back hits the wall. It might not be real, but everything the butcher is capable of and then some is contained in the flayed and burning creature before him, and his body has kept the receipts of all the pain inflicted over the years.
Asta doesn't move and neither does Danta, his eyes remaining on the creature, wide and unblinking, as if worried where it will go if he glances away. His face is angled as if he desperately wants to look anywhere else at all, though, and without even realising it, he's slunk into one corner of the office, his breath leaving him too quickly and unevenly. Just do it, his posture seems to demand, as if he's retreated somewhere old and far away. Whatever it is, do it and leave.
And Danta crushes down the instinct to fight, because that's what had gotten them here in the first place. But without the feral rage to fall back on, the adrenaline turns ice cold in the pit of his stomach, and he's trembling hard as his back hits the wall. It might not be real, but everything the butcher is capable of and then some is contained in the flayed and burning creature before him, and his body has kept the receipts of all the pain inflicted over the years.
Asta doesn't move and neither does Danta, his eyes remaining on the creature, wide and unblinking, as if worried where it will go if he glances away. His face is angled as if he desperately wants to look anywhere else at all, though, and without even realising it, he's slunk into one corner of the office, his breath leaving him too quickly and unevenly. Just do it, his posture seems to demand, as if he's retreated somewhere old and far away. Whatever it is, do it and leave.
Dantalion
// one hundred years from the empire now //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
