[SE] black shades, white gloves

open hand or closed fist would be fine

Dress sharp.

That had been the only thing written on the note Danta had left for Asta (or more accurately, had taped to Asta's forehead during one of his several naps that day), followed by a time - sundown - and a location - outside the Dusklight main doors. And the Maverick will be nowhere to be seen either until such a time, when the butcher will find him, as promised, beneath the awning covering the entrance to the brothel.

And Danta has taken the memo to heart too, it seems.

His suit looks black beneath his elegant wool coat and cream coloured scarf, but in the right light Asta will notice it shimmers with delicate golden pinstripes. His fair hair has been left in loose, soft waves around his face, unadorned but for a few small and carefully pinned crow feathers behind one ear. In his hands, he holds the butcher's cane, ready to offer to him on his arrival.

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

He’d somehow managed to dislodge the note taped to his forehead – of course, leaving the tape behind and the note fluttering in the bed somewhere. So when he wakes and rubs at his face (as he comes to the realization that Danta is not beside him), he can feel the tape and peels it easily from his forehead. Squinting at it in his bleary state to only realize that there had been a note attached to it – then begins the butcher’s sleepy scavenger hunt to find the note.

It takes longer than he’d like to admit, truthfully. But he does find it and already is charmed simply by the surprise of it. He has some time left before the time was set for, which allows him plenty of time to put himself together in a better fashion than he has been since Deepfrost started.

Such that as he emerges from the back of the Dusklight toward their designated meeting space, the butcher is dressed up in all kinds of finery. Dark boots are hidden beneath the leg of dark pants with faint pinstripes, meeting the butcher’s middle where a mahogany belt sits with a gold buckle, layered under the deep emerald green vest overtop a long sleeve black shirt. It’s tied together with a matching green tie, draped with gold chains to pin everything together, and adorning his crown of horns sits more of those golden chains in loops.

His smile is slightly less sharp than usual, but more warm for it as he takes in Danta’s appearance by the entrance, holding his cane and ready to meet him in quite the stunning outfit himself. He takes in the faint gold pinstripes as he approaches, the loose golden waves that he’s unconsciously matched, the flare of sleek black raven feathers tucked in neatly behind one ear. “You look beautiful, darling. What is the occasion?” He asks as he takes the cane, the weapon glinting in the light as he fits it snugly into his hand and reaches up with his free hand to brush his cheek gently in an affectionate motion.

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

open hand or closed fist would be fine

Astaroth emerges from the Dusklight like sin wrapped in silk, and Danta swears his mouth starts to water a little before he checks himself. (He didn't go through all this preparation just to get caught drooling, okay). Instead, slanting a crooked smile in the other man's direction, he surrenders the cane and slinks forward to link his arm with Asta's, leaning into the touch to his cheek much like a cat might.

"Well," he says, gesturing off into the Last Whisper for them to stroll between the snowdrifts, "there are a few occasions, but also none at all." With a fanged grin, he reaches with his free hand to brush gloved fingers across the emerald green vest. "This is lovely, by the way. I don't think I've seen it on you before."

But anyway. "It happens to be your birthday this season," Danta reminds him once they're far enough away from the Dusklight and anyone who might hear it to take advantage of the fact. "And I recall promising we'd go to dinner somewhere fancy at some point. But also I just wanted to go out with you."

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

“Ah, yes, my favorite.” He hums – having absolutely zero reason to get all dressed up in their finest and go out on the town. So without there being a huge barrage of things he might need to force himself to be social for, he’s quietly relieved that there isn’t that much of an occasion for this aside from looking beautiful, and Danta has absolutely nailed it. “Thank you. I thought it paired well with the rest of it.” Gesturing to the mahogany belt with the pop of the rich brown leather and gold additions, the butcher’s smile grows brighter and a bit sharper.

Falling into step beside him easily, the butcher drifts toward him with a small and amused smile. “I had nearly forgotten.” That it was his birthday, that is. And with a puff of breath from his lips that clouds in front of their faces, he leans into Danta’s touch as he lets his lover guide him. “I will never say no to dinner with you, however. What establishment were you envisioning, darling?” He asks, the golden chains clinking against the fire obsidian of his antlers as he tilts his head back toward his lover, watching him briefly as he’s guided.

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

With the Hollowed Grounds’ alterations in landscape, some of the animals have grown a bit wilder. A bit bolder.

So while it may surprise some, and others not at all, a crow swoops down, snatching at clothing and bags with sharp, irritating, and annoying talons. Maybe you just lost a piece of bread, or a valuable keepsake!

Whoops. Best go try to get it back!

open hand or closed fist would be fine

"You thought right," Danta purrs, "but then you almost always do when it comes to fashion." He's not afraid to admit that the butcher is as fashion forward as Danta is absolutely chaotic when it comes to what they wear. Tonight, of course, being the exception, and the Maverick has done his very best to look like a fitting part of their duo.

Gently leaning into Asta as they walk so neither of them get too cold, it will soon become evident that they're heading out of the Last Whisper entirely and into the Inner Quarter where outdoor markets are still aglow and businesses and restaurants are buzzing with activity. "Had you?" Danta grins, not sounding at all surprised that the other man would opt to conveniently forget his birthday. "Good thing I'm here then, isn't it?"

Winking, he gestures down the cobblestones, just as a crow comes bombing from the dark skies overhead. Danta's gaze sharpens - even now that Asta has his charm, his response towards random corvids remains the same - but before he's got a chance to incinerate the creature, a second swathe of feathers cuts across them. The crow hasn't got a chance to get anywhere near Asta's glittering golden trinkets before Moira is there to teach it one helluva lesson, and Danta pauses to bite back his laughter.

"I wasn't envisioning that," he says dryly.

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

Danta has done beautifully when it comes to fitting in to whatever finery the butcher has adorned today, such that they do look like quite the stunning pair as they break out from the Last Whisper into the Inner Quarter – and gasp, believe it or not, the butcher doesn’t once complain about the stairs in order to get there.

“Yes. It is very good that you are here to remind me that I am getting that much older day after day.” He teases, his voice dropping into a warm drawl of amusement before they continue to pluck their path through the cleared cobblestone, avoiding snowdrifts where they can.

When the corvid swoops down, the butcher’s eyes flash to it nearly immediately – it isn’t that the bracelet isn’t working, but old habits die hard. And while he doesn’t have the trauma associated with it at this present moment, the sudden movement does immediately draw his eye. And should the crow come to swoop down and snag his golden chains, it would certainly be met with fire and rage from both of them.

As it turns out, neither of them have to do it, the star of the show is Moira as she swoops in from above, pummeling the poor thing. And while Danta bites back his laughter, the butcher has no such qualms. His laugh is a bark of surprise, bright, surprised. “Gods, she is just the perfect vigilante, is she not?” The butcher laughs softly, squeezing Danta’s arm and letting him continue to lead the way.

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

open hand or closed fist would be fine

"You are getting wiser day after day. More mature, like the finest of wines," Danta boasts, grinning. "And I can personally vouch for your depth of flavour," he adds almost under his breath, his smile turning unashamedly wicked as they meander towards the busier areas of the Inner Quarter. Which is just about when they are accosted and Moira comes to their swift rescue.

Asta's laughter echoes richly around them as Danta's companion wheels off with no shortage of black plumage clutched in her claws, the interloping crow absolutely nowhere to be seen by now. "She is," he purrs in agreement, "but only for you. She has very strong feelings about you." Unsurprising, given with whom she shares a bond, but even so.

Letting Moira continue to go about her shenanigans, Danta leads them forward again and points, surprisingly, up to a well lit space on the top floor of a nearby restaurant. "It's called The Attic, shockingly," he says with a grin. "It's a little bistro that looks out over the bonfire. Does that suit you?"

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

“Well, when you put it like that...” He trails off, flashing a small smirk Danta’s way before the whole shenanigans begin with Moira and the crow that’s decided to try and take a shot at them. It’s amusing as it is charming, watching the feathers she has clutched in her talons bend with the wind when she takes off next. His gaze flits back toward Danta briefly to see the pristine feathers he’s had tucked in behind his ear.

Squeezing his arm gently, the butcher’s smile slants warmly toward him. “I could never imagine why.” He drawls flatly, the sarcasm pouring from his lips playfully as they continue to trudge through the paths winding through the snow. Following Danta’s gesture, the butcher’s honey dark gaze slips up and up more to spot the brilliantly lit top floor of the restaurant.

Charmed even further, he hums thoughtfully as though he’s considering it (he isn’t, he’s absolutely in love with the idea), the butcher leans in to steal a chaste kiss before he speaks and they step up into the warmth of the building. “That is a brilliant surprise, darling.” He purrs, his tail wagging beneath the warm coat he wears, the ashen tip flicking back and forth. “Is this new?” He doesn’t recall seeing it before, though in all honesty the butcher hasn’t looked around much either.

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

open hand or closed fist would be fine

"Me neither," Danta says airily. "I suppose it'll stay a mystery for the ages." Nothing to do with his own intense feelings for the butcher, no siree. And as he finally introduces Asta to their dinner plans for the evening, he thinks he hides his nerves quite well up until he spots the flick of the other man's happy tail, and his shoulders relax beneath his coat. "I'm glad you approve," he murmurs against the kiss that suddenly lands on his mouth, Danta smiling and leading them inside.

"The restaurant isn't, but the top floor is," he explains, offering a clearly practiced polite greeting to the person who stops to take their coats, Danta tugging off his gloves and unlooping his scarf and surrendering them to be hung up. "I heard about it in passing," he adds. In passing from someone at the Dusklight, which is what he doesn't mention, though given who he is and where he lives, he doubts anyone would care either way.

Regardless, soon they are headed up to The Attic, with its arched wooden ceiling, low lighting, plush seating and sparkling silverware. It's rustic charm that meets fine dining in a way Danta has never once experienced, and he doesn't try to hide his curiosity as they are led to a table beside one of the large windows overlooking the everlasting bonfire below.

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

“Ah. How lovely.” The butcher says – and in a swift change from last season where he may have had a fit if he’d heard Danta heard about this place from someone else at the Dusklight, Asta doesn’t care how he found out. There’s only genuine, excited anticipation in his expression as he takes it in.

They head into the Attic and the butcher takes in the wooden ceiling, the low light, the way things look soft and warm but with the rough edge of exposed wood and charm that Astaroth is even more pleased to see. Happily slipping out of his coat and the scarf, he keeps the cane in his hand, content to listen to the sound of it striking the wood as they are led to a table with the perfect view.

He waits for Danta to sit first before he sits across from him, resting the cane up against the window and spends a few seconds longer peering out the window to the slightly damp street below from where the heat of the bonfire has melted the snow that had tried to threaten its existence nearest to it. “This view is nearly as lovely as the one from our window.” He hums, looking over to Danta, face, dark hair and horns, and glinting gold chains framed with flickering firelight that catches on the random gemstones. “I assume they are basing it off of seasonal dishes?” He shifts gears to the menu, lifting the slip of paper to view the courses and see if he was correct.

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

open hand or closed fist would be fine

Danta plops into his seat, more or less, still as wide eyed at the decor and the ambience as he is at the quality of the silverware and the fabric of the tablecloth; only when Asta speaks does he blink himself back into the room properly. "Hm? Oh, damn," he mumbles, scooting his chair in so he can admire the view out of the window properly as well. "It is something, isn't it?" Smiling across at the butcher, his eyes soon flick down to the menu as well.

"I think so," he agrees, squinting at some of the terminology used and tilting his head as he tries to mentally sound it out. For a man who taught himself to read, this is well above his pay grade, but he's luckily as breezy about it as he is most other things in his life. "What looks good to you?" he asks. "I trust you'll also know what wine will pair best with each dish, so maybe we can order a few of them and share?"

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,

He absolutely sees the way Danta is wide eyed and taking in the décor even down to the silverware and their unique, handmade charm. His forks and spoons look different enough to Danta’s own that he could likely assume they had been crafted entirely by hand, without the smooth help of magic. It only seems to add to the charm. “Yes.” The butcher hums, leaning forward to take in the menu and all the brilliantly warm and divine courses that are listed out within this bistro.

He can see Danta struggling, only because he’s pretty sure he’s seen him scan the same line at least four times, and the silent twist of his lips as though trying to sound it out even if no sound is heard but the gentle rumble of chatter and faint, cheery music playing in the background. “Mm, well, I think I am torn between the roasted rosemary lamb with truffle risotto and the seared duck breast with butternut squash and soup.” He tilts his head one way, then another, before he’s looking at the rest of the menu, saying them aloud but quietly as if he’s debating them himself (but it’s silently for Danta’s benefit).

“I would imagine a red and a white wine would pair nicely with whatever we decide.. A cabernet sauvignon for the rich meats? Perhaps an oaked chardonnay if they have them for the lighter fare?” Flicking his gaze up to Danta, there’s still sleep and exhaustion lingering in the lines of his face but there’s warmth and utmost joy hidden beneath the surface, his eyes lit up by the bonfire and oil lamps around them making them brighter than their usual dark pits.

Astaroth

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

open hand or closed fist would be fine

Danta surprises himself with the smile that parts his lips, something open and affectionate and just a touch relieved, and he nods along with Asta's wine recommendations. His ignorance there is practiced and comfortable, at least, and he is more than content to defer to his expertise as usual. "That sounds perfect," he says with a nod, his eyes dropping to his own menu as if to read alongside the butcher, though they both know better.

"I think," he says softly, "I'll try the scallops to start - with the pomegranate glaze. And then the braised short ribs. Though I'm happy to share with you, if you want to try anything." Happy with his choice, Danta sets his (useless) menu down and sits a little more comfortably in his chair, though his tail flicks out beneath the table to brush against the side of Asta's calf.

"Thank you," he murmurs softly.

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine