the wind around the willow

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

Danta's lip curls as Asta explains; there might not have been any names involved apart from Maea's (and he knows he'd told her the ball was in Asta's court when it came to their relationship or lack thereof, but it still rankles to know that she'd blanked him in his current state) but it's enough to understand that this was clearly a group effort. "Right," he says quietly; it doesn't ring any bells - if only - and so the Maverick is left simmering to himself about it.

At least until he feels Asta curl around him in turn.

"Careful," he whispers automatically, despite the way he's already turning into the other man's warmth and the way his lips press to his temple. "You're still in a bad way." And that's putting it mildly; he might have stepped back from death's door, but Danta would be hard pressed to find a bit of the butcher not marked or bruised or sore.

Scoffing under his breath to hear Asta's words, his hands move now to carefully move across his skin, fire flaring out wherever he touches to inject warmth and to disintegrate any lingering dirt of blood on his skin. Fire is as good as water at cleansing, so they say. "Well then you know how I'm feeling," he mutters in response to his last point. "Is the medicine working, at least?"

Dantalion

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