we're born at night, so much of our life
Asta has opted to travel back in his most comfortable shift, and so it's only natural that Danta has decided the same. It's been refreshing, he thinks, to see the desert like this, mostly because it's difficult for dragons and crows and lials and wyrms to get sunburnt to a crisp the way they would on two legs. That's not to say, though, that it's anything like refreshing here.
Crows don't have lips to curl up or teeth to snarl, but as Asta growls and circles the sulphuric Sunshine Pools with obvious disgust, Danta's black feathers are puffed up and ruffled enough to make him look like a squat and angry ball upon the fyrhund's back. He clacks his beak sharply in response, not daring to caw or croak anything in case it gets in his mouth, ew.
And when the loud POP! breaks the relative silence, he has to hop a few times along the fyrhund's rocky plating so as not to topple away completely. Fluttering his wings a bit and giving what's supposed to be a comforting(?) few pecks to Asta's shoulder, his meaning is clear. It's stinky, not dangerous.
Y'know. Probably.
Crows don't have lips to curl up or teeth to snarl, but as Asta growls and circles the sulphuric Sunshine Pools with obvious disgust, Danta's black feathers are puffed up and ruffled enough to make him look like a squat and angry ball upon the fyrhund's back. He clacks his beak sharply in response, not daring to caw or croak anything in case it gets in his mouth, ew.
And when the loud POP! breaks the relative silence, he has to hop a few times along the fyrhund's rocky plating so as not to topple away completely. Fluttering his wings a bit and giving what's supposed to be a comforting(?) few pecks to Asta's shoulder, his meaning is clear. It's stinky, not dangerous.
Y'know. Probably.
Dantalion
is just carvin' through the dark
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
