go home, lie down, decompose

now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence

Ever grateful for the portal that takes them immediately into the Climb, Astaroth exhales a sigh of content as the overwhelming warmth invades his senses of the volcanic region, flashing a too sharp grin over his shoulder toward his Theocrat. “A metal of my choosing, she said. I cannot decide if I wish to be flashy or not.” Perhaps his attire should be the only flashy part of him, if only to detract from the threat of the weapon.

Either way, having little idea what lingers beneath the walls and trying to scout any veins he might be able to spot through the dark obsidian and lava that makes up the majority, Astaroth arrives with Cheerleader!Danta, knowing he’d be doing most all of the work.

A pickaxe is slung over his shoulder and he’s dressed down even more than what Danta would likely be expecting — slacks were a must, but rather than wear and ruin one of his nice silken shirts (even the ones he did the most dirty work in), they can’t be found here. The butcher sports a dark cotton v-neck shirt, low enough that the scars peek out from beneath it. “Do you happen to have any beautiful ideas, darling?” He had explained the idea to the Maverick, after all, and for as much as he appreciated his own thoughts on the subject perhaps he might miss something if he doesn’t at least ask for an opinion.

Astaroth

beg me for forgiveness

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

Cheerleader!Danta is ready and reporting for duty, though Asta is correct in that he doesn't intend to do any actual work today, unless it's to ogle the butcher while he completes his manual labour. "You're flashy enough, aren't you?" he purrs as he follows after him, unintentionally voicing the other man's thoughts. The metal heels on his boots click softly as he trails in Asta's wake, Danta busy licking some remaining blood from his fingers (he'd gotten hungry after they'd stepped through the portal, so sue him).

"I'd probably mine some ore to smelt into steel," he says consideringly, pushing up the sleeves of the open, powder blue shirt he'd swore blind belonged to him (it does not, it's the butcher's) and tilting his head. "Maybe a little bronze too, for decoration." And aren't they lucky that, in the dim light ahead, something that looks like iron glints dully against the lava plumes.

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence

Snorting, the butcher inclines his head slightly in a you got me there gesture, before shifting the pickaxe on his shoulder again to glance back over at the Maverick. “That is correct.” He drawls playfully, slowing his steps some so that the blonde can sidle up beside him (in one of his favorite powder blue shirts that he absolutely conceded the point of just who owned it because Danta pulls it off quite well).

Steel, with the decor of bronze, was certainly up his alley. Just flashy enough to belong to him yet quiet enough that it doesn’t detract from his usual attire. After all, he doesn’t want to have to compete with his cane of all things (menacing as it was). And it gives him enough of an idea to turn slightly, pausing their steps to reach up to cup his jaw and press a kiss to the corner of his lips, and if he comes away with a taste of iron, what of it? “You are brilliant, darling.” He purrs the compliment before the glint of an iron vein captures his attention and he diverts completely toward it with a bright, beaming, shark toothed grin.

“Get comfortable, my dear. Something tells me it may take me a bit of time.” Comes the warm chuckle, drawing up to the wall and setting the bag down so that he can reach up to trace the vein. After determining where to start, the butcher starts his mining adventure.

Astaroth

beg me for forgiveness

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

Stepping up to walk beside the other man as if it's the easiest thing in the world these days, Danta turns just as Asta reaches out for him, halting in time to receive his kiss. "Mmm, I know I am," he purrs, trying to chase after the taste of his lips and only conceding defeat when he approaches the vein of iron nearby. Of course the Maverick hangs back, finding a small ledge to sink down on, legs crossed beneath him.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I bet you'll be done in no time," he says cheerfully, though he does as the butcher suggests and gets comfortable, taking a few scrap pieces of paper out of his back pocket and busying himself in folding a few origami shapes while Asta begins. Only when the metallic ting! of the pickaxe reaches a steady pace does he glance up, more than content to watch the play of muscles across the butcher's forearms and shoulders, head tilted to shamelessly ogle him at work.

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence

He doesn’t concede to the way Danta chases after the kiss — because there’s plenty more where the first had come from. And so he departs from the Maverick’s side in order to approach the wall, running his fingertips across the vein before he prepares himself. Hoisting up the pickaxe and getting started, the butcher starts to chip away the blackened volcanic rock away from the vein before he starts diving in.

“We shall see, won’t we?” He drawls, casting a glance over toward the blonde with a crooked smirk. His attention lingers enough to spot the origami he makes, wondering what he’s chosen to make today, before he’s slamming the pickaxe down again to break off the ore. Muscles ripple through his arms (not bulky or strongly built, but willowy enough to see the ripple of muscle through his skin). It’s repetitive motions that break off a good amount of ore that he pauses with the metal head of the pickaxe on the ground to pluck the bits of ore to tuck away into the bag.

“What are you making, darling?” He asks belatedly, taking a quick break to smile over at Danta and ask his question before he continues (and if it gives him a better view to ogle, so be it).

Astaroth

beg me for forgiveness

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

"We shall," Danta agrees, though to Asta's credit, he's not even halfway through his stack of origami papers when the butcher pauses to collect the ore he's mined so far. (Granted, that's because he's spent a lot of his time watching the other man rather than making anything). "Mmm? Today we have some ROUS," he says, gesturing to the chonky couple of origami rats he's made, "and now I'm working on a cinderscourge."

He's never seen the Climb's newest bird of prey up close and personal, but the silhouette of them soaring overhead is enough for him to get the general idea of a hawk/eagle-esque creature. It's only half folded currently, of course, Danta setting it aside to bounce his eyebrows at Asta. "I should get you to do more renovations in the Dusklight," he purrs. "I could get used to this look on you."

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence

As per usual, the butcher enjoys being eyed — especially by the Maverick. And if he’s a touch more showy during it, it is what it is. He notices, though, that Danta hasn’t made too many of those origami rOUS’. And his gaze drifts toward those very chonky rats, lips quirking in amusement. Drifting his gaze toward the blonde’s hands to see the cinderscourge, he nods and hums a soft laugh. “I have never seen one.” He has seen the silhouettes just as Danta has, but up close in person? Never once.

Hoisting the pickaxe back up to continue breaking off more of the iron, he barks a laugh and stutters in his movements to cast a glance toward him to spot the bouncing eyebrows. “I am afraid I am not made for true manual labor, but for you I may make an exception.” Labor in terms of moving and chopping up bodies? Absolutely. Fixing a windowsill or putting in a door frame? Far less fun.

Either way, he has another good sized pile that he tucks away into the bag before he hoists it up, scouring the sides for a hue of copper. “Ready to keep looking? I believe we need copper, now.” He asks, drifting over toward Danta with hands dusted in ashy grey, plucking a rOUS origami to inspect while Danta collects his things.

Astaroth

beg me for forgiveness

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

"Me neither," Danta confesses of the half finished cinderscourge. "One day, maybe. If we ever do encounter one, we can compare it to my masterpiece here." Because obviously once he finishes making it, it's going to be a beautiful (and accurate) representation of the bird of prey, and no one can say otherwise. No one present, at least, since neither of them knows what they really look like.

Returning to his folding of the paper, progress is just as slow as it had been before, especially as Asta raises the pickaxe and gets back to work on the ore. All Danta is missing is a cocktail, a pair of sunglasses, and a nice pool to lounge beside, and it would be a perfect scene for ogling. "I'm very glad to hear it. You don't give yourself enough credit." Granted, the Maverick is incredibly biased, and by the time Asta is finished with the iron, he's gathering up the rest of his paper and rising to his feet.

"Copper, or bronze?" he asks. "I'm afraid copper might end up giving it a greenish hue, no?" Unless that's the look Asta is going for. Either way, he intends to leave the completed cinderscourge here along with the two ROUS flanking it, and he gives Asta's ass a playful fondle on the way past for good measure.

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence

It sounds like a plan, if he’s being honest. Because right now he has zero idea what one looks like to critique (even internally). He wordlessly continues to mine and collect, returning to Danta to inspect the rOUS with a huff of a laugh. “I don’t?” He asks, snorting before he pockets the rOUS — content to leave the rest of them there as Danta intends.

Humming thoughtfully as his gaze drifts from the walls to seek out the veins, he glances over at Danta with a raise of his brow. “I was under the assumption that copper and tin may be combined to make bronze.” But honestly? He has no idea. “Alas, I am not a blacksmith so— Hey,” the interruption of the fondle from the Maverick is met with a bark of laughter, keeping the hoisted pickaxe on his shoulder even as his tail winds its way to playfully smack Danta’s leg as he walks past.

“Anyway,” huffing in playful annoyance, the butcher continues. “Eyes peeled, darling. And not on me.” He teases, drifting further down the volcanic cavern, when something sparkles down the way that catches his eye.

Astaroth

beg me for forgiveness

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

"You don't," Danta confirms with a smirk, and he pretends not to notice the theft of one of his chonky paper rats; it's none of his business what Asta decides to keep in his pockets, after all. (He still hasn't noticed the mothman scales Danta stole, and the Maverick has long forgotten he has them in his possession as well, so odds are good that he'll forget about it all by the end of the day).

Pausing, his mouth falling open at the butcher's very reasonable point, Danta huffs and folds his arms across his chest - only after trying (and failing) to dodge out of the way of the other Ancient's tail smacking at his leg. "No, I believe you are probably right there. Shut up, Asta." Smiling affectionately, he indeed joins the search for a green-tinged vein of copper... though he does get some good ogling in for good measure.

"How does this look?" he asks after a while, pointing up. It's quite a distance up the side of a rock face, but it definitely looks like there's copper there.

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence

Luckily for Danta, Asta only had the mothman scales for approximately a week and he has zero idea what they even did let alone miss them from his possession. So they’ll both happily forget about it until it’s unearthed at some point, only for them to scratch their heads.

Shut up, Asta, receives the most charming, amused grin to spread across the butchers face, over his shoulder aimed at the blonde Ancient as his tail thwacks him as he passes. “Oh, but I do love my bragging, darling.” He always had, after all. And as they search and find that particular vein up on the side of a rock face. He squints before he nods, trying to decide how best to get up there to collect the copper.

Of course, it’s where his luck gives out with the smarts, because he’s positive Danta might have a crafty way of getting up there — or perhaps he may need to indulge in teamwork. “What might you say is the best means of attack?” He asks, pressing in a little close so his ash dusted shoulder brushes against Danta’s, marking the powder blue shirt with little streaks.

Astaroth

beg me for forgiveness

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

"Mmhm," Danta drawls, crossing his arms across his chest and focusing on their next challenge rather than pandering to Asta's bragging. Huffing out faux-exasperation and brushing off the soot that's been smudged against his Asta's shirt, he tilts his head up at the copper vein. "Could try to build a ladder, or some steps from the leftover stone," he suggests, before offering a wicked smirk to the butcher.

"Or I could just give you a boost." Not necessarily by sitting on his shoulders (not yet, anyway), but Danta will happily offer Asta the cradle of his hands to step into if he thinks it will bring him high enough to reach the ore with his pickaxe. "Dealer's choice."

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence

Too busy staring at the vein on the wall to notice how Danta brushes away the soot, he’s also trying to formulate a plan of attack, head tilting canine-like as he ponders and listens to the options laid out by the Maverick. The idea of lugging stone over in order to make some semblance of steps sounds absolutely exhausting, and given the smirk the blonde has sent his way, he sets the bag down and clears his throat with a soft laugh.

“Will you catch me in a mirror of the apple orchard, should I lose my balance?” He asks, waggling his brows playfully, readjusting the pickaxe on his shoulder. Regardless of what Danta says, he casts a glance back up to the vein in the wall, exhaling a soft sigh and inclining his head. “I am willing to try.” Leaning over toward Danta in order to reach up to gently clasp his jaw and steal another kiss (this time he leaves sooty fingerprints against the sharp jaw of the blonde).

He withdraws and prepares, though, waiting for Danta to give him the boost.

Astaroth

beg me for forgiveness

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

"No, I won't." Danta smiles affectionately to the other man, even if he's just informed him that he'll let him fall on his ass if the situation ends up calling for it. Surprisingly, the soot marks on his face don't bother him nearly as much - though that's almost definitely because he's distracted by the kiss, the Maverick humming against Asta's lips and drawing back with clear reluctance.

"Lovely," he purrs, stepping away and removing the rings from his fingers so he doesn't do himself any damage in giving the butcher a boost. Once he's ready, he leans his back against the stone wall and shifts his weight down into a sitting squat, lacing his fingers into a cradle for Asta to step into. "Alright, ready when you are. Make it quick, yeah?" He winks.

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //