[Training] burn butcher burn

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

The joke is met with the raise of a dark brow, that soft glint in his gaze remaining even as his smile grows a touch brighter. “Perhaps.” He hums thoughtfully, settling in comfortably close to the Maverick as they await their desserts. “Perhaps even a bakery of my own sorts.” He lets his imagination run away with him, because they both know what the bulk of the food is, though it does make his smile a little more playful. “A meat pie shop..? Or is that too on the nose?” Maybe it’s a bit too close to giving Sweeny Todd vibes, but either way the butcher’s quite amused with the idea.

As for the candied oranges, the idea of taking the candied oranges home is scandalous. His hand drops to cover Danta’s against his knee, his fingers curling in to hold his hand as he huffs a soft laugh. “Oh, darling, I am absolutely intending on devouring at least one while we’re here.” He’d have to sample everything, obviously.

With the arrival of their cake and cocoa, it’s precisely only the fact that they’re bringing the items they want that keeps the butcher from snarling, but he does watch as the plates and mugs are set down. He then, takes the moment to hang the edge of the sharp cane on the table nearest to his left hand, reaching out then to stir the cocoa with the peppermint bark sprig. “Mm, it should not be long now before we are half turning to stone between shops, no?”

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

"I feel as though the meat pies should be a specialty that you only sell on rare occasions," Danta says with a warm laugh, more than content to lose himself in this imaginary world where Asta has found his calling as a cannibal-chef. Hells, if their pretend clientele are still mostly Ancients, he might not even have to hide it. The amusement fades into something warmer as he feels the butcher's hand drop over his own, and he sighs knowing agreement with him.

"Well, obviously," he purrs. "But imagine later when you are craving something sweet and there they are, waiting." Because there doesn't exist a world where Asta isn't going to still want sugar in a few hours, and they both know it.

Watching Asta while Asta watches everyone else, only when their server retreats to a safe distance does Danta also reach out to stir his cocoa, wasting no time and taking an immediate sip. It isn't as though they have to wait for it to cool, and the line of sweet heat that spreads down his throat to warm his chest is comforting in a way he can't articulate. "Mm, we're almost at that time," he agrees, reaching for one of the candied orange slices and offering it up to Asta to sample.

"It's better with the bonfire, but the Grounds can still get quite bitter depending on the snowfall."

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

“Meat pies year round, however the rare occasion has the most expensive meat. More tender, of course.” He, too, is content to imagine this unique universe where they didn’t need to worry about ruling or their past traumas, where they might be scar free and with a proportionate amount of trauma to keep them grounded. He likes to think they still would have found each other in spite of it, though there’s no real way of knowing.

As for Danta’s argument for taking the orange slices home, well, he makes an incredibly valid point that has the spaded tip of his tail patting the side of his chair where it’s wrapped around the Maverick’s chair leg. “You know me too well, darling.” He complains, though the tone is draped in affection nonetheless.

Sipping from his cocoa once the server has stepped far enough away that he can start to relax, Asta also relishes in the bright and sweet mint taste alongside the sweet cocoa that heats up his throat and alleviates any phantom fuzziness of the events at the Temple, setting the cup down as Danta offers an orange slice up for him. Squeezing his hand and leaning in to take a bite from his fiance’s offering, his teeth make short work of the sweet candied portion as they slice through. Near enough to the blonde’s fingers but careful enough to not leave him with a bite.

A low hum of appreciation slips from him with utmost content, chewing on the piece until he finally swallows it down. “I thankfully did not have to deal with it without the bonfire.” It’s a slightly proud boast – he had helped with the process of making it but had not been awake before to experience it.

He’s positive he wouldn’t have missed it, though. "I imagine it was bad enough for you to decide to make the bonfire when you did, however?" He asks, smirking over toward Danta.

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

"Oh, of course," Danta says, happy to yes and the scenario the butcher puts forth. "You'd have lines around the shop for people trying to get their hands on them. You'd be sold out before the morning was through. And talk would die down eventually about whatever poor sap had gone missing a couple of days prior." Winking, Danta makes sure to hold still so as to not get his fingers nipped off as Asta leans in for a bite of the orange, and he raises his eyebrows as if to get the other man's appraisal.

The rest of the candied fruit disappears between Danta's lips regardless, of course, and whilst the explosion of sweetness might have made him cringe even hours before, now it hits all the right spots. "Only because you let me know you," he says softly in his defence, folding top of the paper bag to seal away the rest of the orange slices for later.

Seizing a fork next so he might grab a bite of the toffee apple cake - it's what he'd been craving since the moment he mentioned the bakery, after all - Danta groans at the mere mention of the Grounds before the bonfire. "There's a reason it was the first thing on my list," he says, wrinkling his nose. "That first Deepfrost I experienced here was wretched."

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

Chuckling a warm sound under his breath, the butcher nods before he’s snatching the bite of the orange slice from his fingers. “Precisely. A wonderful business plan, I dare say.” Asta smirks once he’s swallowed the bite of the orange slice. It’s citrusy in a way that reminds him of Danta – not quite as sharp thanks to the sweetness, but a perfect mix with the minty chocolate drink he sips from.

As he snags his own plate of the vampire gourd tart and picks up the fork, he pierces a bit of the tart with the fork as casually as he might have carved a piece of meat with a blade. “Mm, well, it was either that or remain your mortal enemy for the rest of time.” A casual pause before he’s shooting a more mischievous smirk over at his lover. “Though I much prefer to be where I am now.” It’s laced with all the air of promise and their future wrapped up in the silkiness of his voice.

Taking the bite of the tart to punctuate the point, he sits quietly to enjoy the taste of pumpkin, cinnamon, and nutmeg as Danta explains that the first Deepfrost had been horrible. “I can imagine. Though I am pleased you did not become a stunning gargoyle, darling.” He pierces another bite of the tart before he lifts it up and toward Danta for him to try if he wanted to while he was in his sweets mode.

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

"Born to be entrepreneurs, clearly," Danta says with a grin, lifting his (impressive) forkful of cake in a cheers before devouring it, sighing his clear approval at the combination of toffee, cinammon and baked apple, and that's without getting into the cream cheese frosting of it all. Sagging further against Asta, he's just finished the bite of cake when the other man is offering him more dessert, Danta leaning in to accept it like it might be taken away if he isn't quick enough.

Laughing around his chaser of cocoa, he slides his cake to the middle of the table as if to invite Asta to share as much as he wants of it. "Well that just seems like an inconvenience. Fun as it was to be your mortal enemy, can you imagine the drama if we'd have tried to get dessert together back then?" It might have happened, but not without far too many theatrics, and it might have ended with the bakery's indefinite closure.

"Mm, I'm often glad I never froze in place here," he agrees with a warm laugh. "It would've been difficult to wake you up if I had."

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

Clearly they were. For now, though, in this universe, Danta’s truly the only entrepreneur – ruling a region and creating a brilliant space to live in spite of what had happened to him in the past. And the butcher? Remaining as dutiful a body guard/attack dog as he’d essentially been reborn to be. Destiny, in a way, though he doesn’t dwell on the poetics of that particular thought. Not as Danta’s snatching the bite from his fork like he might pull it away the last second as a joke.

He doesn’t, of course, and instead watches for the reaction. And when Danta slides his cake into the middle, he mirrors it with his own so that they can nibble a bit from each other’s plates while he reaches for a piece of baked apple with the cream cheese frosting lathered all over it with a smattering of toffee. "Unfortunately, darling, I do not think we would have ever managed to get to dessert.” He laments, before he’s plopping that bite into his mouth and chewing it with appreciation that this is their reality rather than the hypothetics.

As for waking him up, the butcher finally lets go of Danta’s hand under the table to wrap around his middle, his hand smoothing against his fiance’s side. “It would have been. And with my luck, I likely would still be in the confines of that dreadful cave like a burrowing spider.” He chuckles a low and rich sound, stirring his cocoa again before he sips from it.

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

"You say that, but even as mortal enemies I doubt you'd ever miss a chance at cake," Danta says in playful challenge, spearing another piece of tart as the plate is pushed into his vicinity and settling back to enjoy it as the other man's arm slips around him. Scooting his chair closer and humming his approval of the flavour, he chases it with more of his own cake and then with some cocoa, clearly intending to burn away any lingering bad feeling with a sugar high.

"Either that or someone else would have come across you. And between you and I, that's even worse." Especially now that there's a fire obsidian ring sitting on his finger and a gentleman monster ready to snarl at anyone who gets too close to their table. With that thought in mind and the reality of it to combat whatever alternate future they might have made, the Maverick settles in to finish dessert. He doesn't rush but nor does he necessarily take his time, and by the time he considers himself finished, night has officially fallen outside.

"Did you want to stay for anything else?" he asks. "Or shall we go home?"

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

“Oh, of course not, darling. The cake would have been the celebration after.” He purrs, mischief flooding his tone briefly even if the hypothetical air is just as playful as it had been, latching onto the relief of it as opposed to the trauma of before. So, he takes a few bites here and there in the interim, working on his own tart and his cocoa until he can almost feel the sugar lining his entire soul.

Glancing out across the bakery at those that do their best to give them little attention right now (perhaps it’s the general aura of menace that the butcher puts forth extra hard this season), the butcher’s dark gaze sweeps back toward his lover with a snort and a nod that has his dark hair sweeping over his shoulder with the movement. “I would say somewhere in there that fate had our futures in mind when they made you stumble across me.” Perhaps now he can wax his poetics about their endeavors.

But silence overcomes them as they clean up the plates and drain their mugs of cocoa, leaning in closer to Danta in the process. The sun has fully set, blanketing the outside in darkness and a quiet promise of a cooler temperature. “Mm, I am ready to go home, love.” He decides, certainly socialed out given the season, but quite proud of how well he’s done all things considered.

But before they pay and stand, the butcher turns back toward his fiancé and tugs him in against him to press a surprisingly gentle kiss to his lips – both to ease any lingering shadows for his fiancé and to prove to any onlookers that he’s very much his. It’s with a flash of the diamond on his ring that matches Danta’s horn that the butcher places the payment down on the table, snags his cane and settles it back in the crook of his arm, picks up the candied oranges to take home and makes sure he’s got everything else sequestered away for them to head home before the sugar high really takes its toll.

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

"Whether it was fate or Dygra playing a joke, I'm still very glad it happened," Danta says with a proud little smile, leaning in to smooch a kiss to the butcher's cheek. It likely ruins that menacing aura he's been putting on, not that the Maverick remotely cares, and as he's tugged forward and against the butcher's lips properly, evidently Asta doesn't give a fuck either.

Pleased, tonight more than ever, to be claimed in a way that feels right and easy, Danta rises to his feet alongside the other man, not bothering to interrupt the quick and practical way he gathers their snack for later and deposits the payment. Sidling out from behind the table, he even waits for Asta to join him so he might drape himself back against his side, allowing them to amble out of the bakery together.

Outside the night is starting to draw in, the chill in the air more obvious, and if Danta hadn't already opted to glue himself to his lover for the stroll home, he would have now. "Well," he says quietly as they head for the steps down to the Last Whisper, "I have to say I'm very proud of you this season. You've been much more bark than bite compared to last year," he purrs. Whether that's specifically to do with what happened in the Temple when it comes to tonight isn't something he's going to focus on.

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

Humming a soft laugh at the idea of their dark lady playing a joke, he settles with the idea that even if she’d thought it would be funny to see what happened, Asta’s fairly certain she could have seen how it would end up. Extremely devoted as he is, Asta’s confident that for whatever reason they ended up together that it had to be some kind of divine intervention.

Either way, though, Asta does not care much, so long as he’s the only one supplying the Maverick with affection and attention, and as they pay and step out of the bakery his arm remains possessive around his lover, feeling the way Danta leans into him. Eyeing the stairs briefly (always an enemy of the butcher), he’s careful as they take them down to the warmth that echoes through the Last Whisper from all the shops open so late.

“Thank you, darling.” The butcher smirks over at the blonde. “I think it is partly that I know what to expect, and partly the initial brunt of it was spent in the desert just the two of us.” He purrs back, and once they’re back on solid ground, the butcher leans in to obnoxiously steal another kiss, onlookers be damned. He does, however, avoid mentioning that the vast majority of how hard he’d tried to be normal tonight especially was because of the Temple. But if Danta doesn’t bring it up, Asta won’t either.

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

Sighing a note of relief at the warmth that greets them from the Last Whisper, Asta will find that Danta is more than happy to be possessed tonight, his fingers sneaking beneath the hem of the butcher's shirt at his hip so he can warm his hand against his bare flesh. "Even more of a reason for us to make sure we go on a Leafchange vacation every year," he says with an easy shrug, not remotely minding as Asta pauses to seal the deal with another kiss.

Danta clasps him closer, if anything, and were it not for the fact that the Dusklight is so close by, he might have said fuck it and changed tack towards the nearest inn. "Come on," he purrs instead. "We're nearly home." Parting with one final, chaste kiss to the butcher's lips, the Maverick snags his fiance's hand to tug him along the cobbled streets and in the direction of the best known brothel in the Hollowed Grounds.

The Dusklight is alive with people and music and activity, much to no one's surprise, but the crowd and the security alike part seamlessly to allow them through, knowing better this season than to get too close to the butcher and his sharp teeth. Nodding gratefully for their cooperation, Danta winks over his shoulder at Asta and gestures towards the corridor branching off to their rooms, as if to tell him to please lead the way.

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

// he's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise //

“Precisely, darling.” More than content to claim his lips with the deal planned. And honestly, looking forward to each subsequent year that comes for the little get away at the beginning of the season. For now, though, there’s a task at hand and thankfully not too many people out and about that the butcher has to be on edge for, until they reach the Dusklight’s doors.

Reluctant to withdraw from his lover’s embrace, the butcher flashes a fond smile back at him as his hand is taken, tugged over the cobblestones toward the raging establishment that is their home. The din and heat of the interior warms him, but it also becomes threatening as he steps through the doors. Everyone keeps a wide berth from him, though, and for that little boon Asta is internally grateful for – but it doesn’t stop the shadows that look like little ghouls that trail at his heels like guard dogs ready to snap out at anyone nearby.

Asta’s attention is whole heartedly on the Maverick, though, spying that wink and snorting softly as they finally break through the main entry of the Dusklight toward the shadowed corridors of the rest of the building. Unable to part from him for too long, the butcher’s hand reaches for Danta’s side, long fingertips curling against the middle of his lower back as he guides him up to their room – opening the door for Danta to step in first before he follows him and closes the door, locking it behind him to ensure no interruptions. The fire in the fireplace blooms to a brighter heat, interjecting their room with a more sweltering heat that has him setting his cane down nearby before his focus is on Danta entirely. "This is much better." He sighs the relief, shoulders drooping a fraction with the tension as it lessens from his body.

Astaroth

// a smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

Drawn back against the butcher's side the moment they make it away from the main floor of the Dusklight, Danta has no qualms about being ferried along and up into their rooms. "Mm, I can only agree," he purrs as he steps inside, stretching his arms high over his head and immediately seizing his shirt afterwards to drag it off, tossing it over the back of the couch. For all the sugar he's just consumed, everything about the Maverick nevertheless screams exhaustion, and he toes off his shoes before turning back towards Asta.

"Maybe now you can stop tiring yourself out being so spooky," he suggests with a crooked smile, padding across the room to the butcher to coil his arms around him, fingers pressing firmly into his shoulders as if to work some more of that tension out. "Let's go to bed, yeah? You usually feel better in the morning."

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me