storm's comin', I can see the clouds
It's late enough that even the Last Whisper has quietened down but for the hiss of the rain on the cobblestones. The majority of the businesses had closed early for the Blood Moon Festival anyway, and that suits Danta just fine. He has no interest in being inside right now - and especially nowhere near the Dusklight - not until he's managed to stitch his frayed nerves back together. He can go home when he knows he can face the world as something other than an embarrassing fucking mess.
The night finds him sitting on a low wall in a quirky little courtyard of boutiques, the buildings clustered and leaning together around it to cast wicked shadows in the guttering lamplight. He's soaked to the bone and feeling none of it, grey tipped fingers clutching at a nearly empty bottle of wine, elbows braced on his knees, the toe of his boot tapping restlessly into a puddle.
Every time he thinks he might be ready to get up and turn for the Dusklight, the ghoulish image of Asta's haunt flashes suddenly to the forefront of his mind; stretched tall and backlit by the fire, impossibly gaunt and sharp and cloaked in flame and shadow. It's enough to make him thirsty again, enough to make certain scars on his body itch and sting, and so he gives up on it, squeezing the neck of the wine bottle like it might give him courage.
The night finds him sitting on a low wall in a quirky little courtyard of boutiques, the buildings clustered and leaning together around it to cast wicked shadows in the guttering lamplight. He's soaked to the bone and feeling none of it, grey tipped fingers clutching at a nearly empty bottle of wine, elbows braced on his knees, the toe of his boot tapping restlessly into a puddle.
Every time he thinks he might be ready to get up and turn for the Dusklight, the ghoulish image of Asta's haunt flashes suddenly to the forefront of his mind; stretched tall and backlit by the fire, impossibly gaunt and sharp and cloaked in flame and shadow. It's enough to make him thirsty again, enough to make certain scars on his body itch and sting, and so he gives up on it, squeezing the neck of the wine bottle like it might give him courage.
Dantalion
No runnin's gonna save you now
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
