[SE] if I become your ghoul

the evidence is on my body
but I never complain

As it turns out, it is a very interesting reason that everyone’s been saging their businesses and homes, from the lines of salt in the sills of windows as they pass by, the lingering smoke in the air, the candles that offer more light. Protection — which is an amusing thought to the butcher, but one that seems fun even if he’s positive it won’t work. Still, the venture out had been enlightening and so have the lingering looks.

Because yes, he’s still all decked up with everything Danta had fussed over him with — the kohl lined eyes, the painted fingernails, the new additions to the lobes of his ears, the braid and chains and trinkets in the raven dark of his hair.

“I believe we have obtained everything we shall need.” Asta hums, peering down into the bag to see the sage bundles, the container of salt, and a fair few amounts of new candles (these ones have been dyed red and black and he’s almost positive the wax will look like blood when it drips). “Are you ready, darling?” He asks, flashing a shark toothed grin to the Maverick as he opens the door back to the Dusklight to let the other Ancient in first, before he follows like the dutiful shadow he’s become.

Astaroth

i wear it as a lesson, a curse, and a blessing

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Everything we need to protect the Dusklight from ghosts," Danta clarifies, not for the first time, as he swans in through the doors and grins over his shoulder at Astaroth. They've been out long enough that the evening is beginning to draw in; investigating the sage and salt and candles has taken a bit of time, and then of course Danta had wanted to stop for lunch and to peer into a few of the boutiques to admire the items on offer after the change of season.

All in all it's been a good day, he thinks, and with the Dusklight coming to life around them, it stands to be a good night as well. "Let me leave a few things behind the bar so we might be able to extend our protection here, and then we can head up?" he suggests to the other man, already prowling forward and sidling around their regular customers to approach said bar, shrugging out of his coat. It leaves him shirtless in his leather pants, but as if that has ever bothered Danta.

Dantalion

the evidence is on my body
but I never complain

“Ghosts, spirits, specters.” Asta adds on as if placing them all in the same category. Not that he really believed in ghosts, of course. Not when he was the main character of spooky ghost stories long before now. At any rate, the butcher’s smile is still just as bright, pale in comparison to the suntanned hue of his skin and the redness of his ears that have only just started to relax now that their trek into the cold is over.

The Dusklight is as beautifully vibrant and busy as usual, and it bolsters Astaroth’s mood even further as they delve in, following Danta’s lead as he makes his intentions known. “Take however long you like, darling.” He won’t complain, especially not if he gets to continue to casually ogle the Maverick while he places the portions of their protections amongst the bar itself. And with it, he sidles up to the opposite side of the bar, leaning against it briefly as he casually takes a look of the place to see just how things were going (ie, if he was needed) before he turns back to the Maverick. “Perhaps we should bring up another bottle of wine?” He suggests casually, tail flicking easily, hung low just barely above the ground.

Astaroth

i wear it as a lesson, a curse, and a blessing

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Phantoms, ghouls, spooks," Danta fires back as if it's a game, flashing a fanged grin to Asta as he sidles around the bar. Similarly a non-believer when it comes to things of this ilk (despite Ludo's proven existence and the fact that spirits do, in fact, cause problems quite regularly throughout Caido), the Maverick evidently approves of the aesthetic, and really, that's all that's needed to get him on board.

Spending a moment to stack a few large pillar candles beneath the counter, alongside a couple of bundles of sage and a chunk of clear quartz, whilst Asta's question doesn't receive a verbal reply - it would likely be lost in the humdrum of the Dusklight while Danta is out of sight anyway - he responds by emerging with a bottle of something lovely and dark and red. "Will this suffice?" he purrs; of course he's aware of the butcher's ogling, more than approving of it.

He's not the only one looking though, as Asta will likely realise as he scans the place; they aren't just looking at Danta though, so that's a silver lining if he insists on one.

Dantalion

the evidence is on my body
but I never complain

To the butcher, Ludo was very much alive and well — and the spirits from the deity were more tangible than the idea of ghosts of those long since passed. The Festival of Lights was for revisiting ghosts and friends who have gone. And given that he’s wholly devoted to Dygra, the raggedy god never seemed to cross his mind.

So, highly doubting that crystals and sage and salt would keep Ludo and its tricks away, if it even deigned to stoop so low as to play tricks on the populace at large, the butcher definitely enjoys the idea of the aesthetic as much as Danta does.

Ogling as he is, he isn’t trying to be sly about it, but he does notice the rest of the Dusklight ogling the both of them in return. And it’s luck, as it so happens, because each one he looked at was focused wholly on the blonde (riling him up) only to let it deflate with the distinct sensation of eyes on himself in turn when he’s shown the bottle the Theocrat has found for them. “It will more than suffice.” He purrs in return, sweeping over to collect the bottle and two fresh and clean glasses for the trouble of it, posture stick straight yet elegant (playing it up because he knows the Maverick would ogle him in return).

With the bottle in hand, the butcher steps further in, snagging a plate already made up of snacks just to have, before he’s turning toward Danta again, close enough that his arm brushes against his bare torso. “Would you like to keep an eye out down here a little longer or are you ready to go up?” He asks, his grin just as sharp and as wide as his usual status quo, even if mischief sparks in his kohl lined eyes as his spaded tail brushes against the Maverick’s calf in a sly and subtle motion, shared only between the two of them. He’s content with either option.

Astaroth

i wear it as a lesson, a curse, and a blessing

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

As oblivious to the rest of the Dusklight as Asta is attuned to it, Danta surrenders the bottle of wine to his beloved shadow before turning to inspect the rest of the bar. "I think things are in order for now," he says slowly; nothing looks as if it's going to go south, certainly, and the staff know to come knocking if there is trouble that looks as if it needs the theocrat's brand of chaos. (And that's without even taking the butcher into account).

"Mm, let's go," he decides, his attention drawn back towards Asta by the subtle brush of his tail and his arm, a warm smile curling across his lips. "We can always come back down and give people grief later." Odds are good that they won't, if he's being honest, but the option is always there. And so, leaving Asta to carry their food and drink while he gathers up the remainder of their ghostbusting supplies, it's with his coat folded over his arm that he heads back out onto the floor of the Dusklight to head for their room.

A feat made slightly slow going by the number of people keen to speak to him, granted, but the Maverick is able to sweep the majority off with charming ease, leaving him to prowl up the stairs. "You would think they hadn't seen me for a season."

Dantalion

the evidence is on my body
but I never complain

The butcher also thinks things are in order right now, but it wouldn’t be surprising if that completely changed in the span of a few minutes. At least for now they seem too distracted by the appearance of the two of them to really start anything. And it isn’t like Asta will complain, not when he also gets to let his gaze linger on the Maverick, but have the opportunity to touch and embrace the blonde’s warmth more than the rest of them.

Call it a petty victory, or something.

Either way, Asta becomes Danta’s dutiful shadow, carrying everything they need to go upstairs and not come down for a while (even if the idea of sinking his teeth into someone deserving of it is increasingly nagging.) “Indeed we can.” He agrees a touch belatedly, distracted by the way Danta starts to carve the path toward the stairs, stopped like the celebrity he is amongst the patrons.

“Technically, the season did just change.” He drawls with a small smirk, sharp grin aimed to the back of Danta’s handsomely scarred, pale body. His grin is softer now that it’s just them — having edged toward more menacing with each patron that stopped the Maverick on the way up. Either way, though, Astaroth takes solace in the fact he is the one that gets to share the bed and the room with the Maverick. “Perhaps they were also taking the time to admire you, love.”

Astaroth

i wear it as a lesson, a curse, and a blessing

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Ha ha," Danta grumbles with a roll of his eyes; the season has just changed, it's true, but the majority of the Dusklight's regulars see him almost every day. The staff certainly do, anyway. Nevertheless, he entertains their conversations as much as he cares to before peeling himself away, now grinning over his shoulder at Asta down the stairs. "Well, they can admire me from a distance," he informs him haughtily, taking a moment to unlock the door to their room and subsequently swanning inside.

Things are much as they had left them, something the Maverick always appreciates, and he hangs up his coat and sets down their supplies before stretching his arms above his head, padding to the bay window to peep down at the rest of The Last Whisper. Raising his eyebrows in quiet delight, he beckons for Asta to come and look. As the sun has set, the candles lit in the windows of businesses and the homes above them cast the boulevard in twilit radiance, Danta folding his arms across his chest.

"Fine," he says, as if reluctant to admit it. "Ghosts or no ghosts, it's a pretty sight. I suppose we should get our things set up so we don't look out of place?"

Dantalion

the evidence is on my body
but I never complain

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Astaroth purrs as he catches Danta’s gaze over his shoulder, giving him a moment to take in the grin with warm kohl lined eyes, following the blonde into the room and following through with shutting the door behind them, the bolt locking a dull thump as he trails after Danta to deposit the snacks, wine, and glasses.

He looks over at the blonde as the butcher sheds his vest, unbuttoning the first few buttons of the silken shirt he wears as he’s beckoned, and he steps up to the window, behind the Maverick, winding his arms around the other Ancient’s middle to tuck him in against his chest and let his head rest over his shoulder, his soft beard brushing against Danta’s bare shoulder.

“It does give a certain ambiance, no?” He agrees thoughtfully, before he starts to withdraw with a parting kiss to Danta’s neck. “I am positive they will be more than pleased to have their Theocrat join in on the the fun.” He hums, stepping back to retrieve the candles.

Astaroth

i wear it as a lesson, a curse, and a blessing

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

More than happy, these days, to hear the reassuring thump of the bolt as it slides into place across the door, Danta glances up only briefly at Asta's approach, until the other man is winding himself around him. Relaxing back into the warmth of his chest and relishing, not for the first time, the easy way they are able to stand and be like this, he tilts his head to the side to nose into the butcher's dark hair. "Mm, it does. I'd almost be tempted to keep it after Leafchange," he says with a smile.

"Though I am not sure it's meant to be fun," he adds with a laugh, already missing Asta's heat and scent as he draws away. Nevetheless, Danta follows to withdraw a bundle of sage from their bag as well, approaching the fire to toss it into the already crackling flames. "In case our chimney is haunted," he reasons with a shrug.

Returning to the butcher's side, he accepts one of the candles and pinches the wick, lighting it with a lick of fire magic that sets his face softly aglow. "I think at least two for the window," he reasons. The rest they can decorate throughout the room.

Dantalion

the evidence is on my body
but I never complain

It’s incredibly easy to fall into this rhythm – of touch from a man who loathed touch from anyone else, willing and often being the first to seek out that of the Maverick’s and the Maverick’s only. It’s the same now, with how he tugs him in against his chest to replace the warmth that had been missing during their investigation and purchasing of all of these materials that would most certainly do very little in the long run, but add them into he mixture of holiday spirit that Asta is more than content indulging in so long as Danta wanted it.

“Why not? It isn’t just Leafchange that the threat of spirits is abound, is it not?” Perhaps more likely, but, at the end of the day Ludo wasn’t only a Leafchange deity. The raggedy god was out and about all seasons at all times of the day.

Anyway, the butcher withdraws and already immediately feels the cold settle in despite the warmth from Danta’s back, withdrawing candles set in red and orange hued glass (a nice touch that Asta couldn’t have gone without, if he’s being honest), and returns to the Maverick with the candles outstretched for the blonde to light it, letting his mahogany warm gaze lift with that traditional shark toothed grin on display as he chuckles softly. “It does make strange sounds at odd hours of the night.” Does it? No. But Asta’s in it for the fun, too.

So he places two candles along the window sill after Danta has lit them, returning with the rest in the bag once their flickering flames signal that they, too, are a part of the superstition, snagging out a candle in a hue of deep muddy green glass that he sets by their haunted chimney, letting his own lick of flame spark it to life. “Would you like to start saging the room, then, darling?” He hums over his shoulder, face alight in the reflection of warm flames, setting all of the trinkets Danta had adorned in his hair to glitter, and the ruby in his still reddened ear to flash like molten blood in the light.

Astaroth

i wear it as a lesson, a curse, and a blessing

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"That will be my excuse if anyone ever asks," Danta agrees, flashing a grin over his shoulder towards the butcher. At this rate the Grounds will be at risk of seeming like a region with a more-than-healthy suspicion towards Ludo, but at least they'll have plenty of decorations lighting up the windows, right? Besides, it will only look even better when Deepfrost comes around, and the Maverick will be in dire need of cheering up among all that snow.

With his face briefly lit up in soft candle flame, Danta smirks over to the chimney and raises his eyebrows. "Does it? That must be when I am already fast asleep. Wake me the next time you hear it muttering to itself, and we'll do our own ghost hunting investigation." Surrendering the candles for Asta to set them in place, the Maverick is withdrawing another bundle of sage by the time he hears the other man's voice again, glancing towards the fire - and having to pause at the sight of him.

Backlit by flickering orange and yellows setting off the silver in his hair and the scarlet in his ears, the butcher has never looked so beautifully untouchable. Swallowing and turning his attention purposely to the sage, Danta lights the bundle with Asta and his halo of fire still burning behind his eyes. "If you start complaining or choking, just know that I will believe you to also be an angry spirit."

Dantalion

the evidence is on my body
but I never complain

It’s a decent excuse, at least, and one that the butcher fully intends on continuing as well – given that it’s their room now and they both should likely be on the same page – and one made even more valuable by the addition of their made up little story about their haunted chimney (and whatever could potentially be living up there with all the soot and ash from the constant flame within the fireplace).

“It does.” Astaroth hums, his accented voice rich and playful. “The next time I hear it, I shall let you know.” Letting his grin widen before he’s depositing the candles where they see fit, he makes his way to the fireplace to laden it with a few other colorful additions when he makes his follow up request for Danta to burn the sage.

He does see the lingering look, though, and he registers it almost immediately in the slight widening of his too sharp smile, in the thrill that shakes its way down his spine even as Danta has to force his gaze away. Untouchable, for all but just one. Intimidating, too, even with as mundane tasks as placing and lighting candle on the mantle of their raging fireplace.

A deep rumble of a laugh escapes him as he turns more fully toward Danta with the bag of few candles left, watching as the smoke starts to pour like milk from the bundles, wrapping around the Maverick’s arm. “Darling, I was born an angry spirit.” Asta touts with pride, grin sharper, aiming for quite the dramatic image of being a literal nightmare – as such, that the Halo that Danta had seen becomes a real one – a stream of flickering red and orange wind around his head and through the tines of his horns like a warbling, moving angelic halo meant for hell and demons more than something pure.

Because they both know he’s anything but. “Now before I go and start complaining, where would you like the last two candles to be placed?” He asks, his mahogany gaze glued to the blonde and the smoke that winds around him and starts to fill the room with a scent so very similar to Danta that despite his dramatics, he could never find it in him to complain.

Astaroth

i wear it as a lesson, a curse, and a blessing

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Very good," Danta says with a playful smile of his own, because they both know he's likely to be useless if Asta tries to stir him from a deep sleep, even if their chimney is howling and screaming at the time. Turning to give his attention fully to the bundles of sage, as the white smoke begins to billow gently around him, he finds a thoughtful expression settling on his face, one that's only disturbed by the sound of the butcher's voice.

Glancing back across to him, illuminated by the flames that dance through the dark rainbow of his horns and with his candles in hand, Danta has to school himself away from tossing the sage to one side and calling it quits on his self-control. Instead, it's with a mischievous grin that he steps towards Asta, brandishing one of the bundles at him as if to give him a good sage-ing for his trouble. "Well, there," he says. "That ought to make you less angry. Apparently. So calm yourself."

Tipping him a wink and laughing as he moves throughout the room with the sage, in the end Danta leaves it to burn softly on the bay window with the candles, where it will eventually go out. "The last two?" he echoes, smiling and nodding towards their den hidden behind mismatched drapes hanging from the mezzanine. "One for me and one for you," he says reasonably.

Dantalion