bang bang bang

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

Now, when it comes to sating one’s bloodlust (because the butcher has surprisingly gone a touch too long without it), there’s something to be said about Leafchange and the Oasis in the outer brambles. Far enough away to completely let loose, even if it were rare to stumble across a rogue traveler. He’s been good. He’s devoured deer after deer when the Clinic had ran low. But gods, it wasn’t the same.

Today, though, there’s two reasons at the very least for his focus. The butcher is a bit on edge, and given that each night so far he’s had to ensure he fell asleep with the muzzle on if only to make sure he doesn’t sink his teeth into Danta’s neck in the middle of the night, he also needs blood to drench the pieces of the bladed edges he’d crafted for the whip.

Two birds and one stone and all that.

“I recall the last time we were here, you shoved me into the water.” Astaroth hums, casting an only slightly amused gaze back toward the Maverick. The butcher is dressed down, clearly ready to bathe not only the pieces of the blade, but himself too. The satchel hangs from his hip, adorned in a white shirt who’s sleeves are rolled up, the top two buttons of it unbuttoned, and pants that are still fine but not of the utmost quality, a stark black against the rest of him. “Perhaps this time we will not scare away the wildlife.” It’s idle conversation to try and keep the tension from being seen in his shoulders despite how he twists his neck a little, letting the pop be heard as he scans the area for any creatures out and about, seeking out the Glade as their water source.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Did I? Gosh, that does sound like something I'd do, doesn't it?" Danta's smile is audible as he swans through the foliage at Asta's heels, bedecked hands resting in his pockets, his eyes upturned to the canopy of vibrant leaves overhead. Without any consistence to his dress sense, it's impossible to say if he's dressed down or not; wearing a shirt that's only slightly too big (sky blue, loosely buttoned and only tucked in on one side) and a pair of dark slacks held up by a pair of delicately embroidered braces, as he spots the butcher's gaze over his shoulder, he can't help but prowl his way closer.

"I would not dare to scare away the wildlife in your current state," he assures him, his hands leaving his pockets to brush across the hard, tense planes of Asta's shoulders, giving them a warm squeeze. "Eat first, then we can do your blood... thing," he decides. "Even if we have to hunt twice. I doubt either of us would complain."

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 does.” The butcher drawls, continuing down the path as he scans for any movement, the tension ticking away in his spine. Its tension that remains despite the way Danta’s hands brush across and squeeze his shoulders, Asta’s tail curling a touch as he loosens the breath trapped in his lungs. A low hum escapes him as he slows his pace a small amount so the blonde doesn’t have to trail him.

Humming a note of agreement, dark eyes scan the rippling water from the edge of the Glade, the sound of leaves as the wind brushes through their branches, cascading orange and yellow leaves down around the grasses that sprout along this path. It’s a deer trail they find themselves on, following along it in the hopes that something catches his sight. “It was so much easier to manage when we had criminals wandering the Inner Quarter.” He whines quietly, dramatic despite the truth to his words, trying to give the air of effortlessness before a twig snaps and he tenses up immediately, twisting to peer through the bushes. The dark dappled hide of a stag seems to pause with the moment, and it’s that particular moment that the butcher easily and with well practiced movements, slips the bag of metal blade bits off his belt to hand to Danta, sinking down into his fyrhund shift.

Once he’s fully shifted, he pinpoints where the deer has moved before he launches himself toward it in a chase.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Happily stepping up beside the butcher, his tail swaying leisurely at his heels, one of Danta's hands remains against the other man's shoulder, as if to keep him grounded until they can find something tasty to take it out on. "Well I do apologise for making the Inner Quarter a safer place to be. Shall I let it all go to ruin so you can pick off murderers in peace?" Smirking, while he knows Asta isn't serious, the Grounds really isn't the rough and tumble place it once was. Perhaps he should offer Asta a new job as sheriff or something, so he can decide who to eat arrest.

It's whilst he's daydreaming that the stag catches the butcher's attention, Danta falling quiet and still as well but for the hand that slips away from his shoulder to accept the satchel. Standing by as he shifts into the stone and lava of a fyrhund, there are times when the Maverick is happy to join the chase and times where he knows better, and while Asta is in the throes of bloodlust, he fucking knows better.

The stag flees as soon as the fyrhund launches towards it, swift and nimble as it springs through trees and over logs, but ultimately Asta is bigger, stronger and faster. Whilst the creature will give him a good chase, it will ultimately fall victim to his jagged teeth.

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?

Perhaps Danta could make a holiday of it — a purge of sorts where the butcher was allowed to make off with some of the worst offenders. Either that, or he would need to start taking trips further out — there had to be less than savory (or more savory, in the butcher’s case) people out in Levinsward or the occasional visitor to Jack Tar Landing.

Ah but then he’d be so far from the comforts of Danta’s bed.

At any rate, it’s a good thing that Danta hangs back — the butcher becomes a volcanic hound practically foaming smoke and lava from his maw, feral to the highest degrees as more magma seeps from the plates between his shoulders. It’s an erratic, uncontrolled launch that has the butcher darting through the foliage and around bushes, in such stark contrast to the frantic grace the deer still has as it bolts.

But it doesn’t matter, because Astaroth is fast and he is swift in the kill. Claws dig into the foe’s hind quarters, fueled by the bleat that has him working tenfold, dragging the deer down by sheer might and force. Once he’s sure he’s incapacitated it (mostly by the sickening crunch of its legs between his sharp maw), the butcher takes the moment to shift back into himself, splattered with blood as he sinks his too sharp teeth into the doe’s neck, ripping and tearing flesh away to seek the much better portions inside.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Having followed at a distance, his pace more akin to a stroll than a pursuit, Danta hears the crunch of bone and tear of flesh before he ever sees it, and it's enough to know that Asta has claimed his kill and his prize. Slipping between two trees to catch sight of the butcher tearing into the deer with teeth and bare hands, while the bloody tableau and the iron that hangs heavy in the air is more than enough to get the Maverick's blood up in an entirely different way, he masters himself to skirt around and take a seat on a mossy log a safe distance away.

"Careful you don't choke," he warns softly, amusement curling at his lips as he carefully sets down the satchel Asta had handed him and fishes in his pocket for a scrap of peppermint bark to chew on. While it's true that his bloodlust is impossible for him to really keep a cap on, thanks to the efforts of the man currently forearm deep in a deer, he doesn't feel the urge to encroach on the butcher's kill either. Probably a good thing, in retrospect, because he doesn't look like he'd be tolerant of it right now 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?

First of all, he’s not going to choke. (at least, so he thinks). He tears the flesh from the deer in strips, diving in with hands more likely to be claws than actual hands with the precision he utilizes on the deer. It fits his moniker, at least. And he devours along it until he feels far less like he’s willing to rip Danta’s arm off for interfering.

It’s only then that he sits back on his heels with a gasp of air, his bare and scarred forearm swiping at his bloodied maw. Dark eyes scout Danta settled with the satchel and peppermint bark, and it’s then as the deer continues to slowly bleed out that Astaroth sits back on his heels and faces the Leafchange sky. “Would you be willing to hand me the satchel?” He asks in a rough voice, chin dropping like he’s finished the silent prayer he’s made, finding Danta again.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Watching the butcher with blue eyes that border on fascinated, as his chin finally dips away from the skies overhead and his request grates the air, Danta discards the peppermint bark and leans down for the satchel. "But of course," he says, plucking it up and rolling back to his feet. He approaches Asta as if in some private game with himself to avoid the splatters and rivulets of blood soaking thirstily into the ground, finally reaching his side to hand him the satchel.

"Feeling better?" he asks gently, stepping back to plop down on a clean patch of grass while the other man finishes the requirements of his quest. Danta, meanwhile, is happy to enjoy the sweet breeze tainted by the scent of iron, the only sound that of the branches rustling and leaves trickling down to the ground. All birdsong has fled in the face of the butcher's chase, and the remaining wildlife is wisely silent.

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’s the calm after the storm, the tension fleeing from his shoulders in droves even as he seems so still. Dark eyes track Danta as he approaches, avoiding the majority of the blood that’s strewn everywhere. It’s an odd combination, for Danta to be the one that’s impeccably clean and the butcher to be the one, sunk down onto his knees in pools of blood, scarlet rivers running down his arms.

Taking the satchel carefully so as to not get Danta’s hands dirty, the butcher unties the satchel and pulls the bladed edges out of it, taking care not to slice his fingers. He cradles them in his hands, the satchel discarded on the side of the stag, leaning forward almost like he’s in prayer to fill his hands with blood, soaking the multicolored pieces in the warmth that continues to stream. “Much better.” The butcher hums hoarsely, focusing on his task. “Thank you for indulging me.” Here his gaze lifts to look across at the Maverick, taking in the blonde’s calm demeanor, finding a burst of love that sparkles within his chest he swallows down. “Are you hungry?”

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

It's unusual for Danta as well to care so much about keeping clean, but such are the whims of his chaotic personality. It might not last for long, so the butcher ought to relish seeing him so put together while it lasts. He continues to watch as Asta removes the glimmering blade pieces from the satchel, head tilting ever so slightly to the side to track the blood that fills his palms and soaks the metal. It's ritualistic, reverent, like a man at prayer before an altar, and the Maverick lets the scene burn into his mind.

"It was my pleasure," he assures him; at no point has Danta seemed as though he isn't enjoying himself, and at Asta's question, he flashes him a mischievous and fanged grin. "I could eat," he says with a dip of his chin; understatement of the century, that. "Would you be so kind as to feed me some? I don't want to dirty my sleeves."

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's a ritual, a moment of reverence that the butcher focuses on; blood pouring into his hands over each bladed piece, until his hands are full enough that he can sit back on his heels in the pool of scarlet, looking up to his lover. The question leaves his lips after he’s swallowed down on his sudden surge of feelings. The mischievous and fanged grin is reflected on the butcher’s face, stained red.

A soft snort leaves him as he starts to slip the blades pieces back into the satchel, still coated in blood to be dealt with later. For now, hands still flecked red, stained so darkly in the shadows of the trees that cover them, reaches back over the deer to tear the best portions out with a certain, well practiced precision. Collecting a fair amount of them, the butcher stands and shifts over toward where Danta sits, settling away enough to not get the Maverick dirty, while completely uncaring that he does kneel again in a streak of blood. “It would be my pleasure.” He drawls, lips quirking into a smirk as he mirrors the other Ancient, carefully lifting a piece up so it doesn’t drip as he feeds it to the blonde.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Shifting enough so as to be in easy reach for the butcher, and watching the crimson soaked pieces of metal disappear back into the satchel, Danta sits cross legged with his hands in his lap and watches with eager curiosity as Asta carves up the deer in a way which certainly contribues to his moniker. "Thank you," he purrs, leaning in a touch to take the offered slice of meat, lips parting to accept it. With a flick of his tongue that chases the blood on Asta's fingertips, Danta sita back and lets out a decadent sigh.

"You know, of all our picnics, I think this has to be my favourite so far." Certainly their little jaunt with Asta's delectable offerings from the clinic had been lovely, but there's something about being present with the raw violence of taking down prey that tickles all of Danta's right spots. "We should do this again. Perhaps without waiting quite so long next time though, mm?" Tipping the other man a wink, he nevertheless resolves to keep a better eye on Asta's tells that his bloodlust is on him.

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?

“You are very welcome, darling.” Asta hums from a voice more hoarse, accented, and tired. It doesn’t stop him from gingerly feeding his lover, nor does it stop him from the tilt of his horned head — a line of crimson staining the dark tines adorning it as he flashes a slightly sharper smile to feel the warmth of Danta’s tongue chase his fingers.

Snorting softly, Asta settles back on his heels, another piece of meat vanishing between too sharp teeth and bloodstained lips before another is offered up for the Maverick. “Oh? You’d prefer me to be more restrained?” Comes the teasing drawl, the flick of his tail across the grasses punctuating the words. “And here I thought you enjoyed the more feral parts of me. I am wounded.” A tired and drawled dramatic show verbally, even if his body language is anything but serious.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"I did not say that, and you know it," Danta teases right back, shooting Asta a playfully reproachful look before leaning in for another bite of meat. Carefully wiping the blood from the side of his mouth as he relaxes back, his tail curls with amusement. "I just don't like seeing you so tense," he purrs. "Not when I'm not the reason, anyway." At least now the butcher seems anything but, relaxed if not weary as he sits with the carcass.

"You seem tired," he remarks gently, wondering whether the other man will opt to take a nap out here in the Leafchange afternoon, or if he'll find him nodding off on a cart on the way home. "I thought you'd have been keen to clean yourself up." Because as fun as it is to be the one left impeccable after a stroll out to hunt deer, Asta rarely tolerates mess for very long.

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door