[SE] 'til you get to the bottomland

// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //

“Of course.” The butcher hums softly, inspecting the ring and realizing that it would be next to impossible for the ring to sit in an origami flower and have it sit right. The box itself is very nicely made, though, and it harbors the ring perfectly before he’s pulling it out of it to slip it on and inspect it shortly after feeling the divot left behind in his fiance’s horn.

The silence overcomes them, warmth pooling through the butcher’s body and mind, slowing all of his thoughts into a static fuzz before they start to clear and he looks up to see his lover’s face, complete with a small dumb smile gracing his own after the kiss to his forehead. “I do. I love it.” He confirms, in case Danta was worried he didn’t. “And you seem to still think you are not the romantic one.” Comes the quiet humor as he glances back down to the ring to ensure it sits just right on his finger, before he’s looking back up at Danta and reaching up with both hands.

They plunge into the blonde strands, palms cupping each sharp edge of his jawbone as his thumbs stroke along the hollows of his cheeks. “You are my everything.” He whispers before he claims another kiss, chaste in the way he draws back to press their foreheads together again. “How much did it hurt to get the chip out?” He probes softly.

Astaroth

// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

"I can't hold a candle to being romantic compared to you," Danta immediately objects, though if he searches his memory he'll find a good deal of romantic gestures he might have been responsible for making, especially when it comes to the man beneath him. Opting to discard that train of thought to better fuss over Asta, he takes his hand to openly admire the rings on both of their fingers, before he's being seized by the other man.

Not minding it one bit, he melts into the offered kiss, and at the butcher's question he scoffs out a quiet laugh. "Ah, it was fine. Hardest part about it was keeping still," he lies. It had taken a burly man to keep him in a headlock and stop him from squirming while the jeweller had approached with a diamond cutter, and Danta had reacted pretty much as expected. "It doesn't hurt any more," he adds, as if to make Asta feel better about it.

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell

// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //

“I beg to differ.” The butcher hums, also going down the line of multiple things that were incredibly romantic and thoughtful when it came to himself. For the time being, however, none of those come to mind quite like this one, and he’s grateful for the soft breeze that sneaks in to cool the flush still darkening his skin.

Snatching the kiss and withdrawing, the butcher tries to imagine what it might have been like for Danta to keep still for it – knowing that it likely hurt a great deal to cut a chunk out of it if the way his horns felt by getting knocked into something equally hard was any indicator. But to hear that it doesn’t hurt anymore has him relieved, withdrawing enough and keeping one hand plunged into the golden strands, the butcher seeks out Danta’s hand with his ring on in it, interlacing their fingers so both can be visible between them, and what a perfect match it makes.

Upon the fairer yet still tanned skin of the Maverick’s hand sits the darkened fire obsidian ring, mirroring the butcher’s horns yet keeping them entirely intact, to the white gold and glittering diamond resting upon the darker, olive tanned tone of the Ancient’s skin. “I’m glad, darling.” He says after a few more heartbeats, before another warm laugh escapes him. “I understand now why you paused when I asked you. It has been a while since I have been that speechless.”

Astaroth

// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

Relaxing again into the butcher's lap, Danta keeps his head gently tilted into the fingers twining through his hair, lacing one arm around Asta's shoulders and surrendering the other to his fiance. He can't stop the smile on his face as their fingers clasp together; he can recall a time when even holding hands felt too close - and that's when they'd already confessed their love to one another - and whilst they still aren't the sort for grand public displays of affection, they've really come farther than even Danta could have ever expected.

He scoffs out a laugh to hear the other man's admission, leaning in to sneak a kiss to his cheek. "It's like someone has just turned you upside down and shaken all your deepest feelings out of your pockets," he agrees. "You need a second to pick them all back up." Another kiss and he settles back, grinning again at the rings on their fingers. "Now everyone can see that you are off the menu as well," he purrs. Not that it will stop them, he's sure.

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell

// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //

Nestled together in such a way that the mirroring rings to each other are visible, the butcher relaxes with the weight of Danta’s arm around his shoulders. He feels the press of the kiss to his cheek after the scoffed laugh, he closes his eyes temporarily to indulge in the sensation and love, listening while his fingers thread further through the blonde strands to drag down his shoulder in a slow and gentle stroke.

“I’d say that I always was off the menu, but you proved me wrong.” The butcher purrs, withdrawing enough to look down at their rings and to let his dark gaze flit up to catch his fiance’s handsome face. “Though, something tells me you never thought you'd be here either.” His lips quirk into a softer but still amused smile, warmth billowing through him as he thinks back over the past few years since Danta had woken him up from his stone slumber, of all the trials and tribulations they’d gone through together before realizing they were meant for each other. “I snared the wild one.” He purrs out in a low, sing-song voice before a soft laugh breaks through it, while the quiet sweet nothings have absolutely continued to keep his skin flushed red.

Astaroth

// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

A shiver of pleasure runs down Danta's spine from Asta's attentions, distracting him momentarily from the conversation, though he still manages a quiet laugh in response to his comments. "Nah, you just needed someone who knew how to handle you," he purrs, winking at him. "Though you're right. Sleeping around is one thing, but never in all the ways I dared to imagine my life would be was this a part of it."

And look at them now - inseparable and in love without having to sacrifice any part of what makes them who they are. "Oh, I don't know if it counts as snaring if I ran into it willingly," Danta adds through a laugh. "But if that's how you want to tell the story to people, I'll play my part." Leaning in, the Maverick tries to silence any smartassed retaliation from his fiance with a well-aimed kiss to his lips, clasping him closer and savouring the warmth that kindles between them.

"So," he mumbles into the fraction of space between them when they part. "Have you had any thoughts about what happens next?" He wiggles his fingers so his ring catches the light to clarify. Asta is much more of a planner than Danta, and he's got no doubt that his mind will have been working in overdrive in the background when it comes to their wedding.

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell

// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //

Withdrawing enough to let Danta see the dark lift of his brows only to find a wink back at him and he’s horribly ill equipped to prevent the small smirk from tugging on his features. “Mmhm. You have outdone yourself, darling.” The butcher murmurs softly, indulging in the heat of the desert and the Maverick astride him, his arms dropping loosely to wind around Danta’s hips and keep him close.

He is about to respond when Danta wisely shuts him up, the kiss met with the rumble of a laugh he pours into his mouth. It doesn’t last nearly as long as he’d like, so he remains just as close to the other man to continue to shower him in affection and the gentle drag of his fingertips along the hollows of his hips and the jut of his spine when he bends into him just right. “I have had many thoughts, darling.” The butcher announces before he tilts his head back and to the side, fixing him with a coy look.

“Where would you like to start?” The wedding itself or the party after?

Astaroth

// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

"Mm, I do like to think so," Danta agrees, his smile softening into something relaxed as Asta's arms settle around his hips; doubly so when he succeeds in claiming the butcher's lips for his own for another prolonged few seconds. Both arms lace around the other man's shoulders, and when they part at last the Maverick has arched his back to melt forward into Asta, chest to chest, his fingers playing with the tips of dark hair.

"You are notorious for overthinking," he teases, flashing a fanged grin his way and sneaking a last kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I think I'd like to start with the actual marrying you part of all this." Even speaking it into existence is enough to have Danta feeling heat in his cheeks, and he has to forge through it to stop nerves from tying his tongue in knots. "I haven't given much thought about when, but I... it would be nice, if we could go to The Climb," he decides.

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell

// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //

The sensation of Danta’s fingers toying with the tips of his dark hair – silky smooth as they run between his fingers, Asta’s blink stutters a touch as he indulges in it. At least, until Danta announces that he’s notorious for overthinking, lips quirking into a small smirk in spite of it. “Oh?” He asks, playing dumb that he hasn’t realized that the butcher thinks often about the potential outcomes of whatever they come up against regularly.

“Mm, well, we are in agreement on the Climb.” The butcher agrees, head tilting slightly as he scans his lover’s face and the red hue that colors his fiance’s cheeks. “What about… Longheat. That way I am not absolutely exhausted, it does not fight for attention during your birthday, and it is the hottest most Ancient season.” Bouncing his brows playfully, his thumbs stroke a soft design in the small of Danta’s back as he holds him close.

As another thought hits him, he leans in and brushes his nose gently against Danta’s before withdrawing again to speak. “Do you think.. Maybe we could utilize the Obsidian Cathedral?” It would be a refreshing memory of the space from where Danta and Asta had often sat separated, scribing their names into the undersides of the pews.

Astaroth

// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

"Don't be coy," Danta hisses, fanged smile both playful and threatening as Asta dares to pretend he doesn't know the meaning of overthinking. "I've been expecting to find a big planner up on the mezzanine with all your thoughts and ideas for everything." He's not complaining, especially given how woefully unprepared he is for this whole concept. Asta had been able to get out of The Climb, to experience the world and get cultured and gentlemanly; Danta had known nothing but fire and earth and blood up until awakening from his long slumber.

"Bold of you to think I would consider my birthday more important than this," he says with a snort of amusement. "I've only celebrated it for the past few years, remember." And even then it's only the season he's certain about, the day long lost to parents who had died before they could tell him the specifics. "Longheat sounds good to me, but that is almost a year away. Are you sure you can wait?" Brushing his nose against Asta's, Danta raises his eyebrows expectantly.

As for the Obsidian Cathedral, the breath that huffs out of him is almost a laugh, awed and uncertain rather than mocking, as if he'd never considered being allowed such a thing. "You, me, Dygra, and a cathedral of blood and obsidian? You are pushing all the right buttons."

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell

// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //

“I can be as coy as I’d like.” The butcher purrs with that heavy Whitebrim accent, daring and playful in all the ways that are brought out in him this season as of late. Though the other comment sparks a warm laugh from him, the shake of his head – though not enough to lose the feeling of his fingers in his hair. “Oh you would never find it on the mezzanine, darling. That particular notebook is kept on my person.” The butcher grins, all sharp teeth and defiance. “You never know when ideas or inspiration can strike.”

When it comes to Danta’s birthday, though, and the explanation that their wedding day and subsequent anniversaries would be more important than celebrating his birthday just for the sheer lack of birthdays celebrated in the past, the butcher looks nearly aghast at the idea of it. “All the more reason to continue to celebrate it, no? Make up for lost time and all that.” It’s partially why the butcher didn’t celebrate his, given the amount of celebrations he has had. “And yes, I can certainly wait if it means it’s absolutely perfect.” He reassures him, softening under the brush and attention of his nose against his own.

As he makes his suggestion, though, the butcher watches Danta’s face carefully, as if he might be able to see what he’s thinking before it leaves his lips, but the view gives him a touch of confusion before Danta elaborates. “Lovely.” He hums, arms squeezing around him in a small hug. “I was thinking the colors of the whole affair might be better suited with black, red, and golds...” The sentence ends in a hint of a question, waiting to see what Danta thought of such an idea – one that would melt the theme from their wedding to the after party.

Astaroth

// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

"On your person," Danta repeats, mouth falling open in a mix of shock and delight. The urge to clamber off Asta's lap and rummage through their belongings to find said notebook is almost impossible to resist, and the Maverick has to force himself to deliver renewed fuss to the butcher to keep his hands busy, fingers scritching indulgently through the back of his hair, his smile fiendish as he glances off into the tent. "I take it back, you really can be as coy as you like tonight." There doesn't seem to be anything Danta can do about it regardless.

Catching Asta's aghast expression out of the corner of his eye, the Maverick scoffs out a laugh without being able to help himself, his hands halting in their affections so he can raise them in placation. "Alright," he says through a grin, "alright, fine. Longheat it is, and I'll do my best to manage perfection for you."

Tugged closer by the way the butcher's arms close around him further, the Maverick's arms relax back around his lover, and he considers his next point with a soft hum of agreement at first, before something occurs to him. "Did you ever see any of the traditional weddings at The Climb while you were there?" he asks absently. "I only remember one or two I was allowed to attend, back when I was a kid. They wore white linen, but the hems had been dipped in ash and blood, like they'd touched Dygra before they were bound by her."

He hasn't realised the soft, nostalgic tone that has crept into his voice, let alone the smile that is curling across his lips, Danta shaking it off as he suddenly catches himself. "I assume the after party will be hosted at the Dusklight? If so, the colours you have in mind are already very well catered for."

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell

// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //

The grin returns in full force as he hears Danta tell him he can be as coy as he’d like to be tonight – given that he wasn’t planning on switching it up at all. Whether or not Danta told him he could or couldn’t, the butcher would stay as such. And yes, he can very much tell the fact that Danta wants to go and look through his clothes for the notebook. But for now, he’s able to rein in that attention back onto him.

Practically beaming despite the lack of affections to hear Danta agree to Longheat, the excitement softens into something charming on his face. “You are perfect as you are, Wasp. I meant more so everyone and everything else.” He’d have Danta no other way – the tornado of chaos incarnate he loves with his entire being.

As Danta relaxes his arms around him, Asta listens diligently to the picture Danta paints and the nostalgia that creeps into his voice, shaking his head with the question that’s posed to him. “No, I think I was off on my adventures or retrieving the meals for the after party.” He’d missed all the traditional Climb weddings – either scouting or learning – so the only experience he has are the old fashioned traditional means that for as graceful and gentlemanly and well versed the butcher is, none of those things accurately describe the two of them right here, especially for the rest of their life and the event that would describe such a thing.

So he lets Danta paint the picture, paying absolute attention to the ideas that filter through his mind, and Danta would see the absolute approval and appreciation in such a beautiful notion between Ancients. “That sounds beautiful.” He hums, nixing anything in his mind over what potential options he’d had, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. “I love it. Let’s do that.” He hums, confident in this decision, and even more confident to let it be Danta’s vision – a rare feat for the control freak that the butcher often is.

“I was debating the Dusklight or the Temple. I suppose it depends on how wild everyone intends to be.. Thalassa mentioned the Rage Room may be beneficial, though it depends on how we wish the afterparty to go.” Tilting his head slightly, one hand lifts to reach up to brush the golden strands away from Danta’s cheek.

Astaroth

// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

"Mm, well I'll have to leave everyone and everything else to your discerningly high standards," Danta says with a sigh that doesn't try to be anything but smug and amused. "The most I can offer is a reassurance that I won't mess with anything you work on." Grinning a kiss against Asta's jaw and twisting a lock of his dark hair around one finger as if to see if he can persuade it to curl, Danta does add, "Not that I'm adverse to planning things as well, of course." He doesn't want to make the other man feel as though he's doing all of it by himself.

"Ah, a shame," he replies, playfully wrinkling his nose. "I doubt there's anything left to illustrate what it was like." He shrugs, more than content to put the notion to bed and turn the conversation back to Asta's numerous vision boards, when the butcher is suddenly leaning in with a warm kiss to his forehead and approval written all across his face. "Wh--" Catching himself in a quiet laugh, Danta raises his eyebrows. "Are you sure? It's all just shit I remember, Asta. I might not even have it right."

What he does have right, at least, is knowledge of the Hollowed Grounds, his eyebrows raising at the idea of the Temple as well. "It does seem like the right place to honour Dygra away from The Climb," he agrees slowly. "And it isn't as though we couldn't arrange to get people fed and watered from there, too... I think I like the Temple, actually."

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell