the wind around the willow

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

"Well you did bring it up right now," Danta points out with a crooked smile, shrugging his shoulders and pressing further kisses to Asta's fingertips before his hand slips away along with his fight to stay awake. He watches as the butcher sinks into much needed sleep, Danta letting out a long sigh and leaning in to kiss his cheek goodnight. "No, I don't think it would," he confesses, sneaking another kiss before sitting back and putting himself to work.

By the time Asta comes back around - however long or short that time might be - it will be to the smell of spiced black tea laced heavily with honey, a tray of it settled somewhere beside him, far enough out of reach not to knock over. He'll also find himself clean of muck and blood and beneath a thick blanket, his wounded arm neatly bandaged and dressed.

The tray, if he investigates, will also contain painkillers - no dreamdust this time, not unless he really wants it - and some clean clothes are folded nearby, too. The only thing missing, truly, is Danta.

The Maverick isn't far though at least - he's out on the main floor of the Dusklight, absently sweeping some broken glass into a pile, one hand wrapped in a bandage suggesting he might have been the cause of it.

Dantalion

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