storm's comin', I can see the clouds
A soft whimper breaks from Danta's lips as he shifts within the depths of the nightmare, trying to cringe back from some invisible, towering force but simultaneously seeming frozen in place by his own fear. Asta's touch causes him to flinch at first, as if feeling something entirely different in his subconscious, and even as a few feathers get caught in his hair the movement causes the pillow to rip further.
Only the unexpected timbre of the butcher's voice has him falling still, chest still rising and falling rapidly, hands clutching at the blankets, at the air, at Asta even, as if searching for something that might help. Every part of the Maverick is held tense now, either expecting or enduring some long forgotten pain, and the rough, quiet moan that tears from his throat is half formed around the word stop-- before he's lost again to it.
Only the unexpected timbre of the butcher's voice has him falling still, chest still rising and falling rapidly, hands clutching at the blankets, at the air, at Asta even, as if searching for something that might help. Every part of the Maverick is held tense now, either expecting or enduring some long forgotten pain, and the rough, quiet moan that tears from his throat is half formed around the word stop-- before he's lost again to it.
Dantalion
No runnin's gonna save you now
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
