all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach
It's like looking into a mirror, Danta realises distantly as he gazes down at the butcher, his pupils blown wide and his hand clamping over the wound in the Maverick's neck. Like looking into the yawning, hungry depths of himself and seeing it reflected back, only instead of feeling shame and pity for the way instinct has brought out the very worst in Asta, Danta is struck dumb by the vicious beauty of that darkness. His lips are numb and refuse to form the words he wants to say - you're perfect - and he might have let the bottle of water slip loose between his fingers to shatter on the hardwood floors were it not for the command that rumbles through the air.
Panting softly as if it might keep the world from going dark, Danta's eyes slip shut and he leans into the hand fastened around his throat without thinking much of the consequences, caring only for the hot flick of Asta's tongue and the way his fingers could crush and break him with only a little more pressure.
Ah, the water though.
Blinking his eyes open in a bid to force himself to concentrate - and blood has started to pool alarmingly now, soaking greedily into the white linen of Danta's pants and dyeing them crimson - he raises the bottle and tips his head back, letting the water hit his tongue. He swallows at least some of that first gulp he thinks, the rest dripping from his chin and across his throat (or rather, across Asta's hand at present), but already he can feel clarity try to nip at his heels. Trying again, this time the cool, serene power of the fountain is able to flow where it needs, closing cuts and melting away any scars that might have formed.
"I'm good," he says thickly, a dozy smile curling across his lips. "Just be gentle with me."
Panting softly as if it might keep the world from going dark, Danta's eyes slip shut and he leans into the hand fastened around his throat without thinking much of the consequences, caring only for the hot flick of Asta's tongue and the way his fingers could crush and break him with only a little more pressure.
Ah, the water though.
Blinking his eyes open in a bid to force himself to concentrate - and blood has started to pool alarmingly now, soaking greedily into the white linen of Danta's pants and dyeing them crimson - he raises the bottle and tips his head back, letting the water hit his tongue. He swallows at least some of that first gulp he thinks, the rest dripping from his chin and across his throat (or rather, across Asta's hand at present), but already he can feel clarity try to nip at his heels. Trying again, this time the cool, serene power of the fountain is able to flow where it needs, closing cuts and melting away any scars that might have formed.
"I'm good," he says thickly, a dozy smile curling across his lips. "Just be gentle with me."
Dantalion
don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
