I'm where the spiders go

// sun comin' up on a dream come around //

"I'll go and fetch them when we're cleaned up," Danta mumbles, focused mainly on a stubbon red streak across Asta's throat, like he's been slashed with an invisible knife. It comes away though, in the end, and the Maverick steps back, satisfied with his work. Squeezing the blood from the cloth into the bowl, he's about to turn away to get the medicine, as promised, before he notices Asta move out of the corner of his eye.

Freezing, unable to help himself, he sighs out the breath he hasn't realised he's been holding as the gentle touch and warm cloth wipe across his face, tired eyes closing to let the butcher do his best to make him seem presentable again. "That already feels better," he admits. It feels like wiping away everything that had happened downstairs, like he's allowed to stop thinking about it for a while.

Swiping the cloth along his arms and chest in a rudimentary cleanup as well, soon both men are in a fairly similar state, and Danta finally abandons the bloody water to step back. "I'll bring the medicine to bed," he decides, ghosting away to find it. At the same time, he drags on an oversized knit sweater and a pair of checkered pajama bottoms, all but drowning in the fabric by the time he ducks beneath the drapes into their den.

Dantalion

// one hundred years from the empire now //