// you know that this could be your last day here on earth //
Once, twice, measured and calculated and seemingly instinct – instinct the butcher does not have but imagines he could absolutely learn if given a chance to. He watches the display, the way his talons dig into the stone, the way that when Asta does begin to put two and two together, he can see as Danta takes to the sky. All questions of what to do with his feet seem to make sense, tucked in for a more streamlined approach as he hovers and shifts the way his wings flare to soak up more of the wind.
He descends and Asta keeps his wings out the majority of the time as he watches the easy and graceful descent, taking a step forward to give it his shot as the silent concession of the floor is granted. He follows the steps, beating his wings to feel the wind beneath them, extended perfectly to let him catch the air to hover. His legs tuck in and all focus goes to his wings to keep him afloat, hovering there as Danta had (though a touch more shakily than the well practiced grace his lover has).
He works at it until he evens out – longer than Danta has, wings already growing somewhat tired from the work he’s put into these appendages he’s never had before, before he begins his own slow descent. His wings catch more air, and he doesn’t quite land as gracefully as Danta has, but he does land on the stone without falling over or crashing, emitting a pleased rumble of a smoky growl at the result, craning his spiky serpentine face back at the Maverick with his excitement.
He descends and Asta keeps his wings out the majority of the time as he watches the easy and graceful descent, taking a step forward to give it his shot as the silent concession of the floor is granted. He follows the steps, beating his wings to feel the wind beneath them, extended perfectly to let him catch the air to hover. His legs tuck in and all focus goes to his wings to keep him afloat, hovering there as Danta had (though a touch more shakily than the well practiced grace his lover has).
He works at it until he evens out – longer than Danta has, wings already growing somewhat tired from the work he’s put into these appendages he’s never had before, before he begins his own slow descent. His wings catch more air, and he doesn’t quite land as gracefully as Danta has, but he does land on the stone without falling over or crashing, emitting a pleased rumble of a smoky growl at the result, craning his spiky serpentine face back at the Maverick with his excitement.
Astaroth
// so buddy please, won't you smile just for me //
