drink 'til you choke

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

Danta's groan is dramatic and petulant, as Asta might have expected it to be, and he sighs out his reluctant acceptance when he only half manages to drag the other man back into bed. Peeling his eyes open, he peeks up at the other man and finally seems to notice the cold that rolls from him, the way he's fully dressed instead of in their more appropriate sleeping attire (aka nothing), the smell of snow and ash and blood that clings to his body.

Blinking quickly as if to wake himself up, Danta gets his elbows beneath him to start sitting up in bed, scrubbing a hand across his face. "To do with Dygra?" he echoes. There's concern in his voice but it's held at bay by the mention of their dark goddess, because where Dygra is concerned there is never anything he feels he ought to fear. Paired with Asta seeming surprisingly pleased with himself - the tail wagging gives it away, sorry - and the strange, silvery kiss on his cheek that appears scarred there, and Danta has all the incentive in the world to wake up properly.

"What happened?" he asks, sitting up further and reaching out to cup Asta's cheek, thumb brushing across the branded kiss as if to check it's real.

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me