stop and smell the roses

// you know that this could be your last day here on earth //

The canyon looms ahead of him, all while he tries to get used to trying to manage the feeling of his wings and the combination of four feet and a tail. It was far different from his lial, which he tries to compare (really the only similarities is the long nose, the tail, and the scaley exterior). Such that as Danta takes to the sky to land gracefully and beautifully against the flat top over the canyon, the butcher spends a few long moments studying his graceful draconic figure.

He makes it look easy, and that’s the excuse Asta will use when it comes to the downfall that will come to him (and totally not the fact he’s never flown before aside from being in a skyship).

Trying to mimic his movements, his wings snap out, testing the humid air, bunching his muscles before he takes to the sky like a clumsy fledgling. The space between the canyon and the flat top had seemed small until he’s at this point, hovering over it as he tries to use his wings to gain more height. It doesn’t quite work, but it keeps him hovering enough until nearly the last second where he focuses more on his clawed feet trying to latch onto solid ground again that his wings completely give out and the scarred dragon immediately drops below the lip of the canyon to crash into the sloped side of it with a fiery growl of frustration.

Astaroth

// so buddy please, won't you smile just for me //

// fire on the mountain, run, boys, run //

The humid air beneath his wings feels divine, such that Danta (for better or for worse) almost forgets about the butcher at his back, and definitely forgets that he's never flown before. Flapping his wings in a few powerful beats before landing, the Maverick has room to turn and watch Asta's progress, powerful tail whipping across the stone before coming to settle around him like a particularly proud and scaly cat.

Even one glance at his progress is enough for Danta to realise things are... awry, the dragon cocking his head as Asta banks down as if to land beside him - only to have his shit absolutely rocked by the side of the canyon. Letting out a croon of alarm that sends smoke billowing from his nostrils, Danta cranes his serpentine neck over the side of the canyon to check on his fellow dragon's situation, roaring out the equivalent of U GOOD BRO towards Asta.

Dantalion

// the devil's in the house of the risin' sun //

// you know that this could be your last day here on earth //

He hits the rock hard – harder than he anticipates somehow, like the weight of him still hasn’t quite hit his mind to understand. His arm aches, but it’s nothing that would stop him. If anything, he blinks a few times as he picks himself up, tail sweeping a touch angrily behind him as he spots the appearance of Danta’s face over the edge of the canyon looking down at him with a concerned roar.

The tip of his spiky tail whips back and forth as he offers his own growl back up – determination coating the equivalent of ILL LIVE before he steps back a touch to get back onto flatter ground, rounding up and stretching his wings again before he takes to the sky again.

This time, rather than a straight line, he has to curve a bit – which seems incredibly difficult until the butcher gets one wing angled enough that the world starts to spin a touch sideways, placing him in the perfect spot to land where Danta is at atop the canyon. The only problem is that he hasn’t quite figured out how to straighten out yet, landing crooked with the squealing scrape of talons digging into the rock to keep him from sliding right off the opposite edge.

Astaroth

// so buddy please, won't you smile just for me //

// fire on the mountain, run, boys, run //

Dragons can't really chirrup in response, so the equivalent that Danta gives sounds more like a rusty gate on bad hinges than anything, but the sentiment is there. Upon seeing Asta right himself and attempt to fly himself out of the canyon, the Maverick at least does the wise thing and backs the hell up to give the butcher room - not that it ends up being necessary. Rather than overshooting the lip of the canyon as he expects, Asta almost tumbles back in, and Danta tromps forward so he might lend his bulk to encourage the scarred dragon not to tumble back into the gorge.

Only once he's satisfied that they have both landed (more or less) does he lean in to nuzzle at Asta's fiery maw, as if to both congratulate and offer condolences for the mishap. Huffing out a hot, smoky breath, he settles back on his haunches and spreads his wings wide, stretching them to their apex, chuffing at Asta to do the same as if to give him some much-needed lessons in flight.

Dantalion

// the devil's in the house of the risin' sun //

// you know that this could be your last day here on earth //

He rights himself in the plume of ash he’d left behind, shaking out slightly as it settles against scars and jagged scales. Huffing a little bit of annoyance, the butcher finally gets back into some sense of stability right as Danta steps forward after helping prevent him from careening off the side of the canyon again to nuzzle at his maw. The butcher returns the favor, trailing after him even as he parts to settle in beside him to try and show him what to do.

Watching with the orange gleam to his gaze, the butcher studies the wings and position, going to mimic him with it on his haunches – wings stretching out wide to their own apex after a few seconds of figuring out just how to do it, and lowers his horned head to blink over at Danta for the next step as a very attentive pupil.

Astaroth

// so buddy please, won't you smile just for me //

// fire on the mountain, run, boys, run //

Crooning his encouragement at the mimicry, Danta starts to beat down with his wings - one, two powerful flaps of the appendages, kicking up dust and ash and sending smaller pieces of debris sailing over the lip of the canyon. He has to dig his talons into the earth to stop himself from taking off too quickly, but once he's content that Asta has the gist of it, he loosens his hold and begins to ascend.

Tucking front and hind legs in close to keep himself as streamlined as possible, Danta puts all energy into working his wings until he's at a comfortable hover, careful not to actually start flying just that. Once he thinks he's given an adequate demonstration, he slows the beating of his wings to let them catch more of the air in them, slowly descending and landing back on the stone.

Snorting to Asta, the meaning is obvious: and now you.

Dantalion

// the devil's in the house of the risin' sun //

// you know that this could be your last day here on earth //

Once, twice, measured and calculated and seemingly instinct – instinct the butcher does not have but imagines he could absolutely learn if given a chance to. He watches the display, the way his talons dig into the stone, the way that when Asta does begin to put two and two together, he can see as Danta takes to the sky. All questions of what to do with his feet seem to make sense, tucked in for a more streamlined approach as he hovers and shifts the way his wings flare to soak up more of the wind.

He descends and Asta keeps his wings out the majority of the time as he watches the easy and graceful descent, taking a step forward to give it his shot as the silent concession of the floor is granted. He follows the steps, beating his wings to feel the wind beneath them, extended perfectly to let him catch the air to hover. His legs tuck in and all focus goes to his wings to keep him afloat, hovering there as Danta had (though a touch more shakily than the well practiced grace his lover has).

He works at it until he evens out – longer than Danta has, wings already growing somewhat tired from the work he’s put into these appendages he’s never had before, before he begins his own slow descent. His wings catch more air, and he doesn’t quite land as gracefully as Danta has, but he does land on the stone without falling over or crashing, emitting a pleased rumble of a smoky growl at the result, craning his spiky serpentine face back at the Maverick with his excitement.

Astaroth

// so buddy please, won't you smile just for me //

// fire on the mountain, run, boys, run //

Shaking himself off as Asta readies himself for his first ascent, Danta finishes by tucking his wings in tight and settling on the stone like some overgrown lizard soaking up the heat (because that's what they are), watching with keen, serpentine eyes (still blue, the butcher might notice) as his fellow dragon goes through the motions. And as he succeeds in gaining lift-off, it's with another rusty sounding shriek of encouragement that Danta cheers him on.

By the time Asta lands once more, Danta is rolling back to his feet to tromp over and huff an affectionate, smoky breath against the scarred dragon's horned head, able to sense more than anything the fatigue now sitting in his wings. Withdrawing enough to show him how to tuck them in comfortably and in a way that won't have them dragging behind them, he noses in the direction of the Burrows as if to ask whether he wants to get going home for now.

They can always practice flying again tomorrow, after all, and if they get to the Burrows on foot, Asta can at least get used to the weight and stride of this new shift on the ground.

Dantalion

// the devil's in the house of the risin' sun //

// you know that this could be your last day here on earth //

The longer he’s in this shift, the easier it is to tell the difference between the two Ancients. The butcher harboring eyes that mirror the orange fiery depths of his haunt and his fyrhund shift whereas Danta’s remain that beautiful crystalline blue. Upon his landing and his excitement, he notes that Danta’s dragon is far more lithe and agile than his – bulky and spikier.

Butting his head against Danta’s with the affectionate nuzzle, he indulges in the smoky breath of the other dragon, puffing his own back before he can spot just how the Maverick tucks his wings in. Mirroring the movement, his wings shuffle against each other before they pull into each other, settling against his sides in a way that’s far more comfortable than he’d been dealing with.

His large head dips in a nod, trying to get more used to this shift as he starts to walk toward the Burrows so they can take the portal back, taking some amount of time to try and get used to the variety of appendages he now has to keep in mind. This, at least, goes far smoother than his flying had.

Astaroth

// so buddy please, won't you smile just for me //

// fire on the mountain, run, boys, run //

Letting out a satisfied huff at the butcher's nod of agreement, Danta nuzzles against him again before they turn to begin tromping their way across the scalding, rocky ground. Dragons are evidently better suited for flight than clambering along the terrain, because even as the smaller and sleeker of the pair, the Maverick doesn't exactly look swift as he skitters his way towards the Burrows.

Still, at least there's still plenty of entertainment to be had along the way, though it's mostly in the form of watching smaller creatures lose their shit and run at the sight of two dragons taking a stroll. ROARing for fun at a herd of pyrina to make them scatter and trying to snap enormous jaws at the crows that circle overhead, if nothing else, Asta will get good practice learning how much of an idiot his lover can still be, even as a dragon.

~FIN

Dantalion

// the devil's in the house of the risin' sun //