stay your pretty eyes on course

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

"Oh," Danta says, though it sounds a lot more like ew, and he wrinkles his nose in mild horror to hear that Sunjata sees it in his own reflection at times as well. "Well that's more fucked up than anything I expected you to say, so... you know. Congratulations to you for that." Reaching out to carefully tie the letters together and make a loop for them that Moira will be able to grab with her feet, he does reach out - trauma or no trauma - to swat Sunjata on the arm for his teasing.

"They all aren't us," he points out. "I doubt you'd say you and your lady were boring either." Once he's finished (during which time Moira has absolutely presented herself for the fuss she's due, feathers ruffling and her beak attempting to affectionately preen Sunjata's fingers), he snaps his fingers to get his companion's attention.

She acquiesces with a sqawk of indignation, but nevertheless takes the letters and lets Danta take her to the window, before flying out into the night. "Well, a drink I can do for certain. And any one of my workers would be thrilled to have you, though I doubt you're looking for that sort of company?" He raises a brow, just in case he's wrong. "Forgive the forwardness, but I don't reckon tucking you away into an empty room is going to make you feel less shitty either."

Dantalion

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

SUNJATA

angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see
that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free

“…Thanks.” Sunjata says with a wrinkle of his nose, warping the freckles that dot the panes of his face. He’s sure it isn’t at all what Danta was expecting, and yet, it was the truth and it was horrible and Sunjata would truly just prefer to settle into a calm, warm bed, where he doesn’t have to worry too much about the potentials of void creatures coming to ruin more of his day.

Glaring without any of the true intent of any upset at the way Danta swats at him, Sunjata concedes the point with a nod as he fully lets Moira preen his fingers as he fluffs her feathers. “We’re not.” But they are both Frey’s demigods.

So take that, Danta.

He withdraws his hand from the crow companion, watching as she snags the letters Danta’s wound together so that she can take them to where they can be dispersed, and it allows him a moment to focus fully on Danta’s answer — finding a wry smile bloom on his face. “I mean, it’s never once hurt, but it’s temporary, yknow?” A temporary fix to feeling good, the bliss of release and relief until guilt settles back in. “That and I’d probably not be any fun anyway.” Shrugging his broad shoulders, he pushes those thoughts aside. “You got an idea?” It seems like it, at least.

every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside
angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?

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

Yeah, well, he's a Theocrat and Asta is a cannibal who likes to slowly butcher his prey into bite sized pieces. So there, Sunjata. "Ah, I see," is what he does say, chuckling as he closes the window enough to keep out the chill but leaving enough room for Moira to get back inside. "A moment on the lips, a lifetime staring at the ceiling wondering why you just did that." Grinning and turning back to the Flood, he tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs his shoulders.

"I do and I don't. If it were just me I'd have already offered you to stay with me until tomorrow morning, but it's not just my room any more. So if you want, you can sleep upstairs in our rooms. But I get it if he'd make you more uncomfortable. He can be prickly." Yeah, Danta, and water is wet. "And I'd have to check with him beforehand anyway."

Dantalion

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

SUNJATA

angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see
that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free

“No need to wonder, I know why I do it.” Sunjata counters, relaxing a touch with the easy banter and the fact he’s among non void touched friends. He was often a fan of temporary relief, because it meant the full weight of his emotions couldn’t crush him so consistently.

Shrugging his shoulders again and flashing a small smile, crooked by the scar that bisects his cheek. “I’m content being a dog on the floor if that’d make him happy.” He could be a German shepherd on the floor or on the door of the bed, he doesn’t care. But Danta is right, he’d be better off not being alone.

Even if it wasn’t so much the judgmental comments from the equally tall Ancient as it was the sharp teeth and the feeling of being appraised in a different way than he often was. “Would it be better if you asked him or for me to?”

every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside
angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?

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

"I'll be sure to mention that to him," Jata says, of being a dog at the foot of their bed. What he doesn't say is he suspects Asta would take umbridge with that too, since he is also sometimes a dog, if not more fiery and rocky and angry. As for whether he should be the one to petition the butcher or whether Sunjata ought to do it, Danta barks out an automatic laugh. "No no - you stay here," he says quickly. "I'll check with him now."

So saying, he slips back out of the office and down the short corridor back into the bar, where his lover is sitting and quite literally smouldering. "You're gonna melt more than hearts if you keep that up, sugar," he trills to him, offering a charming smile and leaning against the bar opposite Asta. "I have something to ask you, and you're not going to like it. So just hear me out before you say no, okay?"

Dantalion

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

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

Smoldering and smoking, as it turns out. Because the butcher has quite literally kept Danta’s space warm, sparks of fire through his hair that drip embers against the collar of his fine shirt, leaving a small dark plume of smoke that mixes into his long dark hair, rising slowly against the curves of his horns.

He’s also been kept quite a wide berth from the majority of the Dusklight and its patrons for the moment; drawn out of his gloom when he hears his lover’s voice return and the fire sparks out in whips of smoke. “How very dreadful.” He drawls the sarcasm as he glances past Danta’s shoulders, seeking out the scarred demigod that had vanished with him rather than realizing that his lover’s found a new pet name for him. Coming up empty on seeking out the demigod, Astaroth’s gaze flits to Danta’s face as the question begins.

He flashes him a too sharp smile, bordering on dangerous rather than inviting, as he takes a slow and calculating inhale. “I am listening.” And in spite of being even more wholly dramatic, the butcher tries to keep himself even keeled, even as his tail continues to thrash behind him.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

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

Asta's tail thrashes and Danta's own curls up as he leans further across the bar, as if to whisper directly to the other man. (Which he practically does, given how Sunjata hadn't even been able to say the words to him out loud). He explains the predicament in full - the void, the healing, the teeth and the eyes, the way the Flood is in pieces about not being able to be close to his literal wife-to-be, hoping any diversion away from sex or demigodliness will appeal to the butcher's less murdery instincts.

And then it comes to the invitation Danta had extended and why, the Maverick searching out honey dark eyes to hold Asta's gaze. "I know if the roles were reversed, and it was me at the House of Midnight, you wouldn't want me to be alone. So can I ask you to be a fine and gentlemanly host tonight, with the promise of going out to murder a herd of deer in the morning?"

Dantalion

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

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

Having zero qualms with leaning in as his lover does, Astaroth still presses into the threaded cane as he leans into earshot — hearing the whispered story and being absolutely perfectly stoic in how he does not react. Even if internally he realizes it’s quite a shitty thing to experience. Still, his tail thrashes only by its spaded tip by the time Danta is done, his otherwise fiery exterior extinguished in lieu of the realization that his lover is being quite the Theocrat toward him.

And honestly? It’s admirable. And it’s also a touch humiliating, given that Danta knows just which buttons to press on him that have him conceding. And it’s that calculation and the masked sharp smile that remains even as he straightens up, shaking out any flares of tension to become far less of the angry hound that had quite literally nearly been snarling at the thought.

“You are right, I do not like it.” He starts off, just to make sure that Danta knew that (though how could he not?) He eyes his lover with honey dark eyes that blot out the gears moving in his head when he finally concedes. “A large stag tomorrow, then a herd of luxere when Deepfrost arrives.” He counters, head tilting as he waits to see if the deal is struck.

Which, knowing Danta, he could only assume it would be. So he steps around the edge of the bar to follow his lover back toward the sad sack of a demigod. “I cannot promise I will be kind.” Comes the warning, but as soon as he is beside Danta, his arm and tail brush against his lover in both apology and appreciation.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

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

Danta is giving Asta the Theocrat treatment, and the apologetic slant of his smile says as much as he finally leans back to straighten up. "Thankfully, you liking it was not part of the agreement, so you can be as prickly as you like during his stay," he says with a gentle nod of understanding, raising a brow to hear his terms in more detail. "A large stag tomorrow, then, and a herd of luxere during Deepfrost. I can make that happen," he confirms with a nod, stepping to the side so Asta can join him.

"Even if you did promise, I wouldn't believe you," he purrs, affectionately jostling his shoulder against the other man's and grinning. "Would you get some of your favourites to take up?" he asks, gesturing to the extensive liquor collection. In the meantime, Danta steps back through the doors and down the corridor, knocking and peering around the door to his office. "Come on," he invites Sunjata. "You're having a sleepover with us."

Dantalion

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

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

“Good.” Asta determines, because he certainly could try to be gentler, but it isn’t his problem, what the demigod is going through. The only thing that softens him about it is the fact that Danta cares. And for that, he tries to at least put some semblance of effort in.

Softening enough to let a snort leave his nose, the butcher nods his head and snags three different bottles — a dark Halovian whiskey, a refreshingly sweet infused vodka, and a scotch. “You are wise, darling.” He hums to Danta, following moments after to head up to their room with three glasses in hand.

By the time everyone else gets there, the bottles will be on display on a table along with the glasses to be chosen between. The cane set aside and the fine coat slipped out of and hung, leaving him in the dark green vest and the slightly charred dress shirt — still quite overdressed all things considered.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

SUNJATA

angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see
that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free

Nodding to allow Danta to step out, the Flood busied himself with his water magic to waste time. His jaw feathering as he tries to relax further, eyeing the window with the cold breeze that blows through every so often.

It’s only with the knock and Danta’s voice that the Flood steps out, trying to hide the relief that’s so very obvious in the slant of his broad shoulders. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” He imagines he’ll have a chance to tell this Asta the very same as he follows Danta up toward the room.

And honestly? For what he knows of the Maverick and what little he knows of the butcher, the room is not at all what he’s expecting. And gods does he take it in — a mixture of pristine chaos that screams both old and new; and he has to wonder if a few of those bones that drift on a warm breeze from the fire are finger bones with their shape.

He really shouldn’t judge. So he focuses instead on offering Asta a grateful smile to see the liquor displayed, already moving to snag a glass.

every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside
angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?

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

Feeling rather wise as he goes to fetch their impromptu overnight guest, Danta offers Sunjata an easy smile and a warm clasp of the shoulder, gesturing for him to follow him away upstairs. Saying his goodnights to the bartender on duty and ensuring that there is ample security to cover any remaining patrons or workers, he's soon able to take his leave, his own shoulders instantly relaxing as he's able to shed off that veneer of responsibility and become wholly himself.

Whatever Sunjata thinks of their combined room is entirely up to him and whatever comments he does or doesn't make on it; Danta is likely to laugh off anything he has to say with genuine amusement, but he isn't so sure what the butcher will make of any perceived criticism right now. "The flavoured vodka is a very nice touch," he purrs to Asta, clicking the door shut and locking it automatically now that the other man has gotten him used to the idea.

Flaring the fire a touch higher and ensuring all lamps and candles are lit, he joins Sunjata to get a drink and holds Asta's glass up as if to ask what he wants. "There's the couch by the fire," he tells the Flood, "but if you'll be too warm, the bed is just under there." He gestures behind the various drapes creation a partition into their den.

Dantalion

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

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

The butcher has at least schooled himself into a more approachable cannibal, no longer letting his tail give him away even if Danta would be able to see the blatant lie in the sharp smile aimed at the two of them as they enter. Sunjata’s grateful smile is granted an almost condescending inclination of his head — as if silently conveying the fact that they have provided it as good and gracious hosts and not because of any other reasoning.

“Thank you, darling.” He hums a touch softer to Danta as he watches the Flood pluck the Halovian whiskey, not allowing that to be a fact that impresses him. “Chosen in case our guest prefers something sweet rather than something sharp.” He announces blatantly to the whole room, even as he watches Sunjata already start to pour the whiskey in.

He did say he wasn’t going to be nice.

He leans toward Danta a touch for both the boon and heat he offers, and to say that he would like some of the whiskey, trying to school his tail into remaining still rather than the frustrated twitching it wants to do. Entirely due to the fact he can’t get a read on the Flood aside from trauma and a depressing amount of sadness.

How very dull.

“You will be leaving in the morning, yes?” He asks bluntly, reaching out to brush a piece of lint from the top of the table.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

SUNJATA

angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see
that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free

The smile offered to the butcher is met with a sense of judgement and condescension that reminds him a frustrating amount like his father; before he pushes it aside to uncork the whiskey to pour his glass. “I don’t really wanna impose, so I’ll try to keep to the couch.” He offers, before he’s actually glancing over at where the bed is hidden. “It’s a nice looking den, though.” A compliment to try and soothe the barb that the butcher throws his way.

He’s leaning toward the idea that the finger bones are very much real. And the combination of that realization alongside the barb that still hurts (ow, Asta), his scars crack with light like a lightning strike before he clears his throat. “I like all kinds of liquor. I owned a few different bars.” Comes the explanation. “That and it’ll take me a lot to feel anything so I guess I get to taste them all sober, huh?” He tries to relax, to joke and see if that soothes the dark haired Ancient any.

And if that doesn’t work, there’s a soft huff of a laugh that doesn’t quite meet the Flood’s eyes. “Yeah, uh, I won’t be staying past that.”

every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside
angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?