the wind around the willow

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Danta doesn't interrupt the considerable gulp of brandy, flashing a quietly grateful smile to the barman and reaching out to rescue the glass from Asta's grip before he shatters it entirely. There's nothing to say in response to the pain and the healer's work, nothing to make it better, though the Maverick has to school his expression away from a snarl and keep his touch gentle, his shoulders relaxed, lest he take it out on the doctor doing her best.

And eventually, though Danta has no idea how long it's been, the three deepest wounds are nearly closed up, though that's the extent of the magic they've got to play with judging by the weariness in the healer's face. Still, it's enough - he'll make it enough. "I can take it from here," he says quietly; better that no one loses a limb or gets a chunk bitten out of them for the trouble.

Unsurprisingly (and despite the butcher's apologies), she nods and straightens up again, leaving them with a supply of bandages, dressings and potent medicine that Danta is certain contains dreamdust to contend with. "Thanks," he mumbles, glancing fleetingly back to Asta. "You'll feel better soon," he promises.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash