storm's comin', I can see the clouds
Danta hears Asta's words, hears the comfort they're meant to give, and while he wants nothing more than to reach out for it, still something bitter and shameful curls tight in the pit of his stomach. "I thought I was getting better," he mutters to the butcher, brows drawn into a deep frown. He could deal with the other man's shadowy tendrils playing across the floor and the walls, the way the shadow he casts always has a smile for him, the creeping expanse of obsidian tines when the butcher is particularly displeased.
Evidently, though, Danta still has a very long way to go.
"Thanks," he says as flame comes to kiss his fingers, blooming life and a bit of colour back into his hands, and as they approach the ghoulish little inn he tucks them into his sleeves and closes his eyes, too wrung out to even try for a greeting to the hostess who comes to see them. It means he misses the interest in using him for a voodoo doll too, alas, but he'll absolutely notice if one of him appears in the window in future.
Focusing only on the steady thud of Asta's footsteps and the searing warmth of him against his cheek, Danta waits until he's being set down on the edge of the bed before blinking his eyes back open and around at the room. "Looks cursed as fuck," he says approvingly, toppling back to his feet if only to peel off his sodden clothes. Tossing each garment away when he's done, it's nothing short of a miracle that nothing ends up directly in the fire, and eventually Danta drops to sit back on the bed, tail flitting restlessly behind him.
"Oh," he says as the curtain makes its opinions known, the Maverick drawn, for a second, back to Flora and her house. But thinking of Flora makes him think of Kaisel, and that leads him straight back to the festival and all that had happened during.
"Will you come and hold me, for a while?" he whispers, the words hesitant and spoken more to the ground where Danta is staring. The room feels both too big and too crowded all of a sudden, and his wine soaked mind is threatening to buckle under the overwhelm.
Evidently, though, Danta still has a very long way to go.
"Thanks," he says as flame comes to kiss his fingers, blooming life and a bit of colour back into his hands, and as they approach the ghoulish little inn he tucks them into his sleeves and closes his eyes, too wrung out to even try for a greeting to the hostess who comes to see them. It means he misses the interest in using him for a voodoo doll too, alas, but he'll absolutely notice if one of him appears in the window in future.
Focusing only on the steady thud of Asta's footsteps and the searing warmth of him against his cheek, Danta waits until he's being set down on the edge of the bed before blinking his eyes back open and around at the room. "Looks cursed as fuck," he says approvingly, toppling back to his feet if only to peel off his sodden clothes. Tossing each garment away when he's done, it's nothing short of a miracle that nothing ends up directly in the fire, and eventually Danta drops to sit back on the bed, tail flitting restlessly behind him.
"Oh," he says as the curtain makes its opinions known, the Maverick drawn, for a second, back to Flora and her house. But thinking of Flora makes him think of Kaisel, and that leads him straight back to the festival and all that had happened during.
"Will you come and hold me, for a while?" he whispers, the words hesitant and spoken more to the ground where Danta is staring. The room feels both too big and too crowded all of a sudden, and his wine soaked mind is threatening to buckle under the overwhelm.
Dantalion
No runnin's gonna save you now
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
