bang bang bang

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

The clack of the beak sparks another glance, but when it’s clear that Danta isn’t moving from his position (even if he spots the occasional feather fall and it captures his attention with a sharp lurch of his gut, nothing happens). It gives him time to focus on the companion darting around the room, chasing peanut after peanut. It’s almost mesmerizing, and this close he actually can spot the differences between the traditional crow and the gore crow. And somehow, it helps, because Moira becomes far less frightening to him. First of all, she has eyes that match the hue of her feathers rather than the bloody orbs the gore crows had. Second of all, she’s fucking small and her beak and talons seem less sharp as she runs across the wooden floor.

Content with this, he does toss her a few more peanuts to watch her chase around before he finds himself standing, swallowing now that he’s had sober, focused, silent moments to catalogue the differences. Nowhere is he perfect, obviously, but he does find himself able to approach Danta. He continues with the mantra while his lover sleeps in his shift, tucked in under his wing, and he’s quiet and curious as he fights the tightening of his heart as he snags one of those feathers that’s escaped, running his fingers over it in slow motions as he peers down at the gore crow on the shoulder of the mannequin.

And then, with another long and slow inhale, he keeps the feather in one hand and reaches up with a trembling hand, letting two fingers brush along Danta’s back, feeling their softness just as he was so curious about.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Having realised that there are no more nuts incoming, Moira takes herself off back to Danta's shirt to nestle down in, clearly deciding that it's a suitable place to nap while Asta and her bonded do whatever they're going to do from here. (Listen, it's been a while since she was allowed up in the room, okay?) And the Maverick is clearly enjoying his snooze as a corvid, because he doesn't stir as Asta gets to his feet or as he approaches; his feathers, black as pitch, are soft and warm beneath the butcher's fingers, and it takes a while before he even realises he's being touched to think of stirring.

Puffing up his feathers and peeping out at Asta from beneath his wing without emerging completely, while Danta can't speak in this shift, there's an unmistakeable hint of pride about him. He he shifts to turn slowly around on the mannequin so he isn't facing the other man, letting him do as he pleases until he decides he's had enough. Only when Asta steps back will he hop down from the mannequin, already back on two feet by the time they hit the floor.

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

The feathers are soft and so warm, nothing like the sleek blood soaked ones he can recall. A fact that lingers as he keeps that fallen feather secured in his other hand as he puts all of his focus into stroking along Danta’s back in this shift, between his wings, growing slightly less shaky and more bold with each few seconds that pass. His throat and mouth are still exceptionally dry, though, and he does withdraw when he sees that he’s woken Danta up.

But allowing him to turn, so that those eyes aren’t on him, the butcher’s content to let his hand trail even lower, to the top of Danta’s tailfeathers before he fully withdraws, stepping back and trying to swallow around his parched throat. His arms cross, folding neatly across his chest, the one feather still remaining in his grip as he watches Danta hop down and shift back into himself. “Your feathers are soft.” He says hoarsely (still more Ferrox than Asta), like he hadn’t expected them to be so soft and warm to the touch. Like he’d expected them to be oil on water, clinging and slick, like you couldn’t ever wash your hands enough to rid you of the feeling.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

With his cheeks flushed from shifting (and napping, let's be honest), Danta is slow to straighten up, still shirtless and tousled from their lazy day. The moment he's steady on his feet, though, he silently sweeps forward to gather Asta into his arms, holding him tight and close and nosing against the side of his neck. "You did so well," he mumbles to the butcher, a stray feather or two still caught in his fair hair, not that he notices or cares.

"I try to keep them that way, yeah," he adds about his feathers through a huff of muffled laughter, running gentle hands down the length of Asta's back and pressing a kiss (or two or three) to his cheek. "Thank you," he repeats. "I think I needed that more than I realised. I'm proud of you for sticking around." And even going so far as to touch him. "No more crows for a while though, I promise."

Well, he'll put the promise into effect when he realises Moira is still snoozing in his shirt, anyway.

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

Moira was ignored now, for the most part, because so long as she isn’t flying the butcher can glance to her occasionally and ensure the differences between her form and a true gore crow. For now, there’s no longer any gore crows in the room as Danta shifts back into himself, feathers still stuck in golden hair, not that the butcher finds he minds. He’s still clutching one of Danta’s feathers like a lifeline – still like a statue. “Thank you.” He only begins to relax when he’s embraced, when he can unfold his arms from his chest to wind them around Danta in turn, pressing his bearded cheek against the fair hair with diamond horns and ink black feathers.

His hand star bursts out warmth along the middle of his lover’s back, head tilting to receive the kisses pressed to his cheek, before he nods. “It is… More difficult with you, but, I think I will be okay with her.” He nods his head toward Moira, withdrawing enough to capture the beautiful blues of Danta’s eyes to offer a small, still somewhat stressed smile. “May I keep a feather or two?” He asks softly, reaching up to pluck one of the feathers in question from his lover’s golden crown of hair.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Danta hasn't noticed the feather in Asta's hand for now, just as he hasn't noticed that Moira is even still in the room; his attention is all for the butcher, in gently pressing his hands against shoulders locked and tense with stress, in feeling the drumbeat of his pulse against his lips and the rumble of his voice in his chest. "Hm? Oh, I mean... if you're sure. She'll probably want to stretch her wings in a few minutes anyway, so I'll let her out the window," he says of his companion with a lopsided smile.

Glancing up as Asta withdraws a little, Danta raises a brow to see the ink black feather appear in his hand, plucked from his hair. "You can keep as many as you like," he says, smirking down at the small scattering of similar feathers at his feet. "It isn't as though I need them once they're gone," he adds, shrugging his shoulders and leaning in suddenly to press a soft, chaste kiss to Asta's lips. "Can I get you anything?"

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

“I am sure.” He hums, voice rumbling through his chest in a low but sweet vibration as the tension starts to smooth out from his shoulders. “You and her do look very different when I am able to compare.” Which means while you were napping, Danta, Asta was studying. He was able to pick apart the differences, and it’s what doesn’t have him shy away when the mention of letting her out the window to stretch her wings comes up.

Now, complete with two ink black feathers, the butcher takes a moment to glance down as well to see just how many feathers have fallen out – and he fully intends to collect a few more for the trouble when they’re done. “I suppose that is true.” He hums, precisely when Danta’s leaning in suddenly. It sooths Asta almost immediately, despite how chaste it is, and the butcher withdraws only enough to press his forehead against the Maverick’s, eyes closed as he takes a few steadying breaths. “No, nothing for right now. I’m okay, darling.” He murmurs before he’s straightening up again. “Though we should think about food soon, mm?” Distractions to make him think less of it seemed to help, it’s why his mantra had helped when he’d found the boldness to be able to brush his fingers along Danta’s back while he was in that nightmarish shift.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Different bodies, same pea brain," Danta agrees ruefully, smirking across at his crumpled shirt that Moira is currently using as a nest, before his focus promptly returns to Astaroth. "She's more of a fan of peanuts than I am, though." The Maverick's instincts might be avian, but his tastes remain quite similar as a gore crow. (That and the idea of a corvid sipping a cocktail is a funny one to say the least). Still, he imagines Asta goes more down the raw strips of flesh route when it comes to his preferences - which, not wrong, but not as reassuring either.

"Are you going to make trinkets with them?" he wonders of the feathers, his smile softening as he withdraws from the kiss to let his forehead rest against the butcher's. "Good," he says quietly, gentle fingers strumming up between Asta's shoulders to play against the back of his neck, tangling gently in his dark locks. "Ah, food - I did happen to order some when I was downstairs."

Straightening up and peeping over Asta's shoulder, he smiles towards the open door where a tray of food and a bottle of wine has indeed been left surreptitiously for them. (Most likely when the butcher had been fussing over Danta while he napped in his shift). "Shall we?"

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

“Mm, I am not surprised.” He admits to the mention of Moira being a bigger fan of peanuts than Danta, thumb stroking along the smooth feathers in his hand, as if he could use that to be a good memory of the feathers, rather than the memories of those wings brushing against his burnt, torn skin. All horrible thoughts aside, the butcher thinks he’s handled it quite well all things considered, but he leans a little extra into the Maverick’s touch. “Something of the sort, I imagine.” He has an idea, though he doesn’t want to give it away, eyes shutting as their foreheads press and he takes a slow deep breath to feel the warmth of Danta’s fingers chase away the cold memories crawling up his spine.

A soft little huff leaves him, the smile tugging on the corner of his lips. “Lovely.” He hums, pulling back from the embrace when Danta pulls back to glance over his shoulder, the butcher nods. “We shall.” He pulls away a touch reluctantly, still with those feathers in his hand even as he steps over toward the door to collect their tray of food and wine, already trying to loosen the tension in his shoulders as he pushes all of his memories away from the forefront of his mind. He’d done well. He should be proud.

And he is, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel a little off, like he’s floating.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"I'll wait with baited breath to see what you come up with," Danta says with a smirk, stepping back to let Asta go and collect their tray while he grabs a couple of glasses for the wine, though he keeps a careful eye on the other man as he crosses the room, just in case. (In case of what he can't say; anything from suddenly passing out to panicking to fleeing the Dusklight as a fyrhund could be possible). Setting the glasses down so Asta can fill them, once he's comfortable that the butcher really is alright, only then does he approach Moira.

"Alright, you - off you go," he tells her affectionately, scooping her up into his hands and padding across the room to part the curtains and briefly open the window, letting her fly free. And with that done, he glances over his shoulder to the other man and beckons him back beneath the warm canopy of their den. "Come on," he invites, fully intending to hole up with the butcher until he feels more like himself again.

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

It goes back to their previous conversation about how little the butcher has crafted and been creative lately, but this has an added boon of exposure in a place where he can control the situation, which really truly seems to help. “You will be the first to see.” He says over his shoulder as he steps away to retrieve the tray. Turning back into the room and utilizing his tail to close the door, the butcher drifts back in as he watches Danta pluck Moira from her little nest of clothes, only to be released out the window.

He doesn’t continue to watch past when his lover opens the window – figuring that the less of the wings he sees the better, and instead busies himself with pouring the wine into the glasses. His hands tremble less now, his mind almost dull and numb in a way that’s odd yet not… terrible? He perks up to hear the beckoning, and he obliges with two glasses of wine and the tray into the comfort and confines of their den (and yes, still with two feathers in his hand that he sets on his nightstand). “Here, darling.” He says gently, already seeming to relax, handing Danta’s glass to him as he settles on the edge of the bed, dragging the tray into view shortly after so that he might have a chance to pluck a strip of meat from it.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"I should hope so. I'll have to be better at spying this time, too." The last time he'd tried to take a peek up on the upper level above their den while Asta had been working, he'd made a mis-step on the ladder and had ended up tumbling flat onto his back, rather ruining the attempt to sneak a peek. "Mm, thanks," he adds with a grateful smile, accepting the wine and taking a very generous sip of it, setting it down on his bedside table and clambering back into bed.

All but draping himself against the butcher's back, sweater and blanket and all, Danta noses into the soft space behind his ear and lets gentle hands press against the tension in his shoulders, content to sit and fuss over the other man for as long as he can stand it. "You know," he says conversationally, "I was watching out the window a couple of nights ago, and I saw some grown ass adults playing hide and seek outside. Something to do with honouring Ludo, or some shit."

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

The memory sparks a snort to leave him, softening as he recalls being completely unaware, only to hear the flomp of Danta’s back meeting the wooden floor, peering over the edge of the mezzanine to see him sprawled with his blonde hair wild and limbs flattened. “I would love to see your attempts.” Comes the affectionate rumble as he settles onto the bed and hands the glass over.

A second later, warmth presses against his back, seeping into Danta’s the sweater he wears. He sips from his own glass and sets it down on his nightstand before he leans into the touch, head hanging slightly, giving into the fussing (because he does quietly adore being fussed over), and at least his hair is shorter now to keep Danta from trapping him. “Is that so?” He hums, lifting his head up to peer at the window in the distance. “I imagine that was an interesting event to witness.” He admits with a soft sigh, relaxing as he pulls his mind away from feathers and corvids for grown adults playing children’s games.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"No no, see, the point is you shouldn't be able to see anything, that's why it's spying," Danta tries to point out, his brow furrowing as if Asta really hasn't understood what he's trying to achieve here. Luckly the butcher is warm and comfortable and handsome enough to keep his metaphorical feathers unruffled, and the Maverick shifts to sit behind him properly so he can continue his fuss while stealing some of the snacks from the tray.

"Mm, it kept me entertained for a bit," he agrees of the impromptu game of hide and seek. "Maybe we'll have to try it out ourselves soon." If not that game, then something else. All for the good of Ludo, right? Or something. "Anyway, you deserve much more than just a sip of wine for what you went through. C'mon, let's celebrate." Gesturing for Asta to pick up his glass, Danta follows suit and raises his own in a toast.

Onwards and upwards from here, or so they say.

~FIN

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door