[SE] six of cups

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Hey, I found these yesterday behind the bar. Someone must've lost them." These happen to be a strange deck of embossed cards in a velvet bag that Danta produces from his bedside table. He's sprawled on his front in bed at mid-morning, naked, and with absolutely no intention of getting up just yet, especially when he might be able to while away another hour reading Asta's fortune.

"Who loses tarot cards anyway?" he wonders with a crooked smile, removing the cards from the bag and propping himself up on his elbows to shuffle them. "Shall we see if I'm psychic? I bet I can show you your future," he tells the butcher. It will be fairly easy, he thinks, given that he's quite certain that he is in Asta's future in some capacity, so it won't be as though he's wrong.

Dantalion

// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //

“Mm?” The butcher has been dozing off and on – soaking up the lingering warmth of their little den and the roaring fire that helps add to the heat of the darkened interior. The candles flicker and cast shadows from the bone chimes that move slightly as Astaroth twists, snagging some blankets to tuck up under his horned head to blink his dark honeyed gaze at Danta as the cards are revealed.

Snorting softly, its with eyes that very clearly don’t believe in any sort of fortune telling (who can blame him, he was destined for a relatively small and useless life in Halo, only to have a second chance as something completely different). “It feels as if it may be bad luck to lose a deck of tarot cards.” Not that he’s superstitious in that way, of course. His accented voice flat in comparison, a dull hum.

Nodding and twisting a bit more to greet Danta face to face with how they both prop themselves up – Danta, beautifully pale skin on full display, uncaring, versus Asta, modestly covered up in the sheets and furs. His grin twists from a sleepy smile to something of more amusement as he bobs his horned head. “Show me my future, love.” He says, fighting back a yawn before he raises a challenging brow toward the Maverick.

Astaroth

// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Neither of them particularly believe in fortune telling, as it happens, but Danta is eccentric enough to dramatise anything, as the butcher likely knows very well by now. "Oooh, you're right. Maybe these are cursed and they'll only tell you the worst things." The Maverick is wearing quite a cheerful grin to say that he's just delivered this terrible news, and he evidently has no intention of not reading Asta's fortune just because it might bring him doom.

"Alright - here we go," he purrs to the other man, tail flicking idly as he selects a card, trying and failing to ignore the quiet thrill that shivers through him - still - to hear Asta call him love. Clearing his throat so as to be able to deliver the future as clearly as possible, Danta reveals the card and places it down on the blankets between them.

"Ace of cups," he tells him. "Clearly you have a cup coming your way. Which makes absolute sense, since I sent for wine just a few minutes ago." See, Asta? Magic.

Dantalion

// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //

“I am positive I have been called cursed for decades now, so perhaps it truly is fitting.” Returning the too cheery grin of the Maverick with a brighter one of his own, there’s a soft laugh that leaves him as he settles in to hear (and watch) the cards be revealed. His head is propped up on his hand as he scans the first card, the ace of cups face first toward him.

Luckily for Danta, Asta has zero fucking clue what any of it means. And he’s positive Danta doesn’t either, but at least the explanation is brilliantly off the cuff and Asta’s laugh rumbles from his chest as he sighs affectionately, rolling his eyes. “On second thought, maybe they are not so cursed after all. Wine sounds wonderful.” He admits, before shifting a touch closer, hand slipping out from the blankets to gesture toward the blonde to continue before he starts daydreaming about what kind of cup might be in his future.

A large part of him is hoping for another stunning set of teacups.

Astaroth

// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Have you?" Danta raises his eyebrows at that, a playful smile on his face. "I don't recall ever calling you cursed. Who would say such a thing?" Asta clearly doesn't seem to mind it, so the Maverick won't make any heads roll unless the butcher asks him nicely, but even so.

And it's true that he hasn't got a fucking clue what any of the cards mean, but he's nothing else if not good at bullshitting, and so with a bob of his eyebrows - very mystical, yes - he draws the next card and places it next to the first with a flourish. "Justice," he announces. "Obviously that means, y'know... justice." He grins.

"Oh, or maybe it means Maea will show back up and you can finally exact your revenge," he suggests, wiggling his fingers towards Asta's nose. "Wine, murder... so far so good."

Dantalion

// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //

“Not by you, darling. And not since my reawakening, as far as I can recall.” He clarifies – which he supposes would make it decades minus a year, because isn’t now about the time he’d stumbled back into wakefulness? He pauses for a moment to consider how it has simultaneously only been a year and yet not at least five will everything that had been packed into the previous year.

Either way, blinking back to the thought at hand, the butcher peers down at the mention of justice – snorting and sighing a touch wistfully – as if that was all he could ever want in the world. But the movement of wiggling fingers is close to being in his face and Astaroth immediately reverts back to his typical self and snaps with an audible clack toward the offending fingers.

Don’t worry, though, he’s made sure to not actually bite the Maverick’s fingers. “I have been enjoying not thinking about her as of late.” He pulls back with a soft whine, propping his head back onto his fist, blinking dark eyes up at Danta to see what the next card is.

Astaroth

// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Oh, I see. From the before times," Danta says with a wise nod of his head, and though he's still curious as to know who called Astaroth cursed and why, he lets the thought go in order to focus better on the (clearly very detailed and very accurate) fortune he's reading for the butcher. Well, after he's pulled his fingers away from clacking, sharp teeth and the man who owns them.

Clearing his throat again - drum roll please - and revealing the final card, Danta doesn't even deign the Maea response with one of his own; Asta has said he's been enjoying not thinking about her, and so they will continue in that direction. "The three of coins," he announces of the last card, not that he has any idea about what it means. "So... er, there you have it. There is wine in your future, and justice, and... your riches are going to triple."

There. That sounds pretty good.

Dantalion

// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //

“From the before times.” Asta agrees, before the drum roll begins and Danta has returned his fingers a safe distance from the butcher’s face. Contently watching as the next card flips and is revealed to be the three of coins. Which, truthfully, he’s glad Danta has decided to make it that his riches would triple because for an honest to Dygra second, the butcher thinks he’s going to randomly find three coins.

Which.. is fine?

Anyway, he chuckles lightly before he starts to settle back into the bed, rolling onto his back to stretch out his sore bones, his stomach hollowing beneath his ribcage with the movement as he casually, and in his deeper accent from the stretch, hums an easy and playful “will they triple because you are my employer and have decided that I am doing a phenomenal job?” tilting his head toward Danta with a too sharp, mischievous grin, the butcher’s laugh is muted as he tries to keep it down.

Astaroth

// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

With a little wave of his hand - ta daaaaa - Danta concludes his fortune telling, promptly tossing the tarot cards to the ground without a care for how the deck scatters, covering the floor in their various futures. Watching greedily as Asta stretches out, and rather hating the fact that he's covered by the blankets, the Maverick swipes the final three cards out of the way before slipping beneath the sheets as well.

"Asta, if you want me to praise you on your skill at security, you only need to ask," he purrs, stretching a leg across the butcher's waist and tucking himself quite neatly against his side - a feat made easier with his stretch. "Sure, though. I don't remember if I pay you or what it is, but if I do, we can triple it. How about that?" He grins.

Dantalion

// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //

He hears, rather than sees, as the deck goes sprawling all over the floor – and he wonders how many coins and cups the floorboards will receive in lieu of Asta receiving the ace of cups and the three of coins. But it’s a thought that will have to be figured out later as Danta slips beneath the sheets and blankets to join him – his sides surprisingly cool in comparison to where Asta’s radiated heat from within the confines of the furs. “Ack--! You are cold.” Asta complains initially, before Danta’s body is already warming up and Asta’s arm slips down over his shoulders to draw him in. “Anyhow, I do like to know when I am doing a good job.” He says as if it were common knowledge.

Which it might be, but it feels right to say it. “You pay me in giving me a room in exchange for my services, love.” He drawls, twisting slightly to nose his way into Danta’s crown of golden hair, muted by the darkness of their den. “I am unsure how to triple that unless I am to receive another room?” He teases, his laugh breathy and soft as it puffs through blonde strands.

He technically already has two - the one he'd started with and the current space shared with the Maverick. And no, he isn't counting the office he has in the backrooms, because if he did, he'd already reach the three room allotment before the cards described it in his future. (Would that mean he would get six rooms?

Astaroth

// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Mm, it is Leafchange now," Danta agrees with a wicked smile; even with the radiating heat from their room, the Hollowed Grounds is not The Climb or even Torchline, and already the weather is beginning to grow more crisp and sharp outside. Luckily enough he has his own hot water bottle waiting, the Maverick happily burying his face against the side of Asta's neck and pressing closer to leech his warmth.

"You are doing a very good job," he confirms, his voice muffled; whether he means as the Dusklight's security or as Danta's heat source is up to Asta's interpretation. Closing his eyes and smiling against the butcher's throat as he continues, the Maverick is forced to move enough to properly speak, a smile in his voice. "That's right, I remember now. Well, then. Maybe the cards didn't mean literal riches. More like... metaphorical ones."

Dantalion

// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //

Unfortunately, he almost decides to respond with – the chill in the air enough to make him dress up warmer – returning to jackets whenever out and about again. At least the jackets were fashionable, but it did restrict his movement somewhat. “The leaves are already beginning to change.” He frowns into Danta’s crown, huffing a soft sound of dramatized sorrow as his hand flattens against the Maverick’s spine and smooths up and down over the blonde’s spine.

The frown vanishes with the compliment, an accented “thank you” leaving him playfully despite how he knows he has been doing a good job regardless. It was still nice to hear. Enough that he tilts his head slightly when he feels Danta’s lips press against his throat, giving him more room to press into should he wish to. “Mm, alas… I have you and you far outweigh any other kind of metaphorical riches that may be awaiting me out there.” He drawls, lips curving into a grin. “Perhaps it is under the guise of benefitting me, yet benefits you?” He suggest, tail curling around Danta’s leg for emphasis.

Astaroth

// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Hence the name Leafchange," Danta says teasingly, smiling another wicked kiss against Asta's throat and pressing himself closer into the other man's side, as if their shared warmth might be able to do all the things the fire and the ambient heat of the room can't. It's a plan that seems to be working despite the shiver that runs automatically up his spine from the butcher's long fingers, and the Maverick hums a note of content agreement to be considered all of Asta's metaphorical riches.

"Oho, so do you think my riches will triple?" he asks with a grin, his fingers spreading in a gentle starburst across his scarred chest. "Will I own three brothels, maybe? Or perhaps I will just have three orgasms at some point in the future." Bobbing his eyebrows suggestively, Danta is nonetheless very comfortable where he is for now.

Dantalion

// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //

“Shhh.” The butcher drawls in lieu of shut up. He knows what the season is called, but it still didn’t mean that he was ready for it to begin so soon. After all, the season only just started and the multitude of maples up above in the Inner Quarter were already gold and red, like little bonfires lighting up the rest of the woods.

As Danta shivers, though, the butcher’s fingers seem to try and chase the shiver and goosebumps briefly before returning to draw idle designs into the Maverick’s spine, precisely when Asta relaxes precisely at the time the blonde’s fingers spread in a starburst against his scars, causing him to nestle in a touch closer, tail tightening until Danta’s final answer sparks a bark of a laugh to slip from his lips – surprise coursing through him so abruptly he has to gasp in a breath. “I suppose you will have to find out, won’t you?” He asks, withdrawing enough to blink down at Danta with dark eyes full of amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Astaroth

// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //