we're born at night, so much of our life
Having nestled his way into the space between Asta's collar and neck by the time he's shivering and laughing about it, Danta offers a quiet croak of acknowledgement, a silent are u sure about that when it comes to his curved beak and the soft flesh of the Butcher's throat. He does nibble this time at one of the earrings in Asta's earlobes as if to make up for it (and also drawn by the sparklies), though when he can't get it free he fluffs up his feathers and relents.
"TiCkLE tIcKLe," he announces nevertheless, the word warped by an avian throat, though there's no denying the pride in him for it. They near the top of the rise now where there's very little cover against the wind, and the next chill breeze that slices across the sky has him nearly melting into Asta's coat as a result, relishing the warmth of his body against his feathers.
He can't see anything out here just yet - nothing worth attacking with the other man's cane anyway, but that isn't to say there won't be something promising on the other side of the hill.
"TiCkLE tIcKLe," he announces nevertheless, the word warped by an avian throat, though there's no denying the pride in him for it. They near the top of the rise now where there's very little cover against the wind, and the next chill breeze that slices across the sky has him nearly melting into Asta's coat as a result, relishing the warmth of his body against his feathers.
He can't see anything out here just yet - nothing worth attacking with the other man's cane anyway, but that isn't to say there won't be something promising on the other side of the hill.
Dantalion
is just carvin' through the dark
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
