// nothing is as simple, I worship, you're my temple //
He should be very proud of the discovery, because Asta wastes very little time zeroing in on their prey. It’s different from the kinds they usually aimed for, but satisfaction still comes in droves as he slams the bladed side of the cane down onto the quicksand moss. He withdraws the cane a touch slowly, mostly because he spies the flare of dark feathers flaring, joining in.
Unfortunately, Danta only comes away with half of the quicksand moss that Asta’s already torn off, but it’s something in his clutches to feel proud of and revealing more of that dark brown, black liquid that accompanies the writhing mass of the rest of the quicksand moss.
Which for Asta, only proves to make it that much easier to see the rest of the remaining moss – you’ve done well Danta, professional helper – and with a quick shift of his hold on the cane, slams down once more on the moss until it no longer writhes and Asta can feel that sense of accomplishment in his chest at the destruction with the limp remains of the moss.
“That was quite satisfying.” He hums, stepping away to find a nearby and lone tree trunk, slender enough he can swipe the sides of the bladed cane onto it to get rid of the bulk of black, murkiness. He’ll clean it later, but for now he’s pleased at the task and holds out his arm for Danta’s dark feathered form to return to him should he wish to. "But I think, perhaps, we should head back now, yes?"
Quicksand Moss: 0/47
Unfortunately, Danta only comes away with half of the quicksand moss that Asta’s already torn off, but it’s something in his clutches to feel proud of and revealing more of that dark brown, black liquid that accompanies the writhing mass of the rest of the quicksand moss.
Which for Asta, only proves to make it that much easier to see the rest of the remaining moss – you’ve done well Danta, professional helper – and with a quick shift of his hold on the cane, slams down once more on the moss until it no longer writhes and Asta can feel that sense of accomplishment in his chest at the destruction with the limp remains of the moss.
“That was quite satisfying.” He hums, stepping away to find a nearby and lone tree trunk, slender enough he can swipe the sides of the bladed cane onto it to get rid of the bulk of black, murkiness. He’ll clean it later, but for now he’s pleased at the task and holds out his arm for Danta’s dark feathered form to return to him should he wish to. "But I think, perhaps, we should head back now, yes?"
Quicksand Moss: 0/47
Astaroth
// and heaven, hold your gates open, all the hell we've been through //
