[SE] under the same sky

// you knew who I was //

"They say," Danta is explaining as they cross the narrow stone bridge to the island that houses the Aumakua lighthouse, "that the stars are much clearer here than the rest of Torchline. Something about it being over Safrin's shrine." Smirking over his shoulder at the Butcher, he adjusts the cooler box in his arms and resists the urge to walk backwards to face Asta in case he ends up tripping and falling off the edge of the bridge.

He hasn't told him what's in the box just yet, figuring that it can wait until they've found a nice place to sit. The evening is chilly for Torchline - and therefore Danta is absolutely wearing his coat to keep warm - but compared to other regions, it's still more than comfortable to wander around at night. The moon has just started to rise, in fact, and with it the stars start winking to life. One, then another, then suddenly dozens of twinkling points accompany their journey across the bridge to the soft island sands.

"I thought it would be a good place to see how different things were from before we woke up," he says. "Though I'll mainly be relying on your memory. You were under the sky a lot more than I was, even after you became an Ancient."

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// i saw the walls, finished and plain //

“Mm, well, that would make sense wouldn’t it?” The Butcher hums, looking up at the sky and the fading sunset when Danta smirks over his shoulder at him. It captures his attention shortly after, immediately dropping his gaze to shoot a grin over at his fiancé. In his own hands, seeing as Danta’s busy with the mystery cooler, the demigod follows with a blanket rolled up under his arm.

It’s chilly here, but better than the Grounds, but it also means that Asta gets to test out his matching little wool and velvet coat to Danta’s own. And it works brilliantly to keep the heat in, enough that he picks up his pace a touch with how he’s more limber with the heat that lingers in his bones. He lets Danta take the lead across the narrow bridge, though, he isn’t too far behind him the second they reach the other side and all the while he’s watching the sky shift and change, the stars that wink to life, the map of them that’s vastly different from what he remembers.

And it seems like Danta recalls the Butcher’s passing comments on it, too, given the explanation. “That is a very sweet idea, darling.” He hums, his voice dropping a touch softer at the thoughtfulness of it. “Well, I will have plenty to say. Hopefully you do not get tired of my voice.” He flashes Danta’s back a grin whether or not he sees it, knowing full well Danta would get tired of many things before he got tired of hearing the Butcher's voice.

Astaroth

// lavender blooms on the ink of my name //

// you knew who I was //

"When," Danta wants to know with a sceptical raise of his eyebrows, "have I ever grown tired of your voice? And no, the times when I fall asleep while you're reading to me don't count. That's never been because I'm tired of it, it's because your voice is so nice that it makes me relaxed." Satisfied that he's managed to head off any immediate objection before Asta makes it, the Maverick slows his steps once they're across the bridge so they might walk together.

"Thank you, though. I was intending to be sweet," he adds with a smirk, glancing sidelong at the other man and leading them up to a spot where the sand is soft and dry, the lighthouse is to their backs and both sea and sky open up around them. "I think here should be good. What'd you think?" he asks, setting down the cooler box and hopping back a few steps for Asta to decide where to put the blanket.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// i saw the walls, finished and plain //

He is about to protest Danta’s answer, the scoff that leaves him the very first thing that he gets out before the Maverick is recovering – recovering well - as it turns out. So the scoff turns into a deep laugh, warm and content as all his playfully raised hackles start to smooth. “Oh, I see. Perhaps I should become a narrrrator.” The Butcher does roll the r’s in narrator to sell the point, taking the opportunity to pick up his pace to step beside the Maverick, his shoulder brushing along his fiance’s as his smile softens.

Affection seeps into his dark gaze to hear Danta’s answer, because the intention had been the result, and he’s happy for this brief little exploration up to Aumakua to indulge in the adorable lovey-dovey of it all – like the two of them were still only courting. “You have succeeded, Wasp. And here looks good.” He agrees, twisting slightly to see the looming lighthouse at their back and the sea and sky above them glittering with all the stars that are both familiar and not.

Unrolling the blanket, the butcher picks a spot where they can watch the rolling waves as well as scan the sky. It’s a plush enough blanket to hide any rocks or sharp bits and pieces from being so close to the water, even on a cliff, and only when Asta’s satisfied with where it’s spread out, does he kneel onto it and beckons Danta closer to join him. “Now.. What have you brought?” He asks, unable to help his curiosity at last.

Astaroth

// lavender blooms on the ink of my name //

// you knew who I was //

"Mm, if you're going to be talking like that you can narrate anything you like as long as it's against my skin," Danta says with the sort of smile that comes wrapped in a warning. He may have tried - and succeeded - in being sweet, but rest assured he's still lusty and inappropriate underneath, and it won't take much to bring the real Maverick back to the surface. "My ego thanks you," he adds through a purr as Asta confirms his success, and he steps back another couple of feet to let the other man spread the blanket out on the ground.

Once the Butcher is satisfied, Danta kneels to join him on the blanket, eyes lighting up as he remembers the cooler box he's brought. "Ah, you'll like this I hope," he says, angling himself away so Asta can't quite see before he starts rummaging inside it.

"I've got a few things, but this is what we should try first before they melt," he says. There's a bit of clinking and a soft pop! as Danta jostles everything about, and when he finally turns back to his fiance, it's to present him with a shot of limoncello in a glass entirely made out of ice. "It's very cold," he says, in case it wasn't obvious.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// i saw the walls, finished and plain //

“Ohho.” The Butcher grins as he begins to unveil the blanket and spread it out across the grass and sand. “That can be arranged, darling.” We’ll see if it’s an endeavor for today or if it’s just one of the things they get up to on this Torchline vacation. They have plenty of time, after all. And as Danta’s ego thanks him, a cheshire grin is aimed back at his fiancé once he settles into the blanket, kneeling there to peer up at him and beckon him closer as though he and the blanket were a siren song he knows the Maverick won’t be able to resist.

Only half following the rules that Danta silently sets – he watches him rummage and only gets bits and pieces of what the surprise is that the other Ancient has up his sleeves. “Melt?” He asks, uncertain what could melt when it was cold out like this, not at all imagining that they’d have ice to worry about – unless turning to stone in some kind of silent suicide pact reminiscent of the horror story they’d told each other was occurring.

Subconsciously, the Butcher glances around for any creature that might try to lure them deep into the caves before Danta’s turning back to him with shot glasses made from ice and a lovely drink sat within the hollowed-out interior of the glass. His head tilts, reaching out to snag one so that both of Danta’s hands don’t harden into a statue. “Ice… during Deepfrost?” The Butcher asks, lips quirking slightly as he glances up from it to Danta with a soft laugh that vibrates from his throat. “Alright then, are we toasting to the stars or to ourselves?” He asks, raising his glass toward Danta’s for him to decide what they toast to before taking the shot.

Astaroth

// lavender blooms on the ink of my name //

// you knew who I was //

"Melt," Danta repeats - they can have their stone suicide pact and sensual narration another time - for now it's of vital importance that the Maverick hands off the ice glass threatening to grey out his fingertips. "Ice during Deepfrost in Torchline," he corrects, as if to point out that whilst it might still be chilly, it's still positively tropical compared to the Grounds. "I couldn't make this seem nearly as enticing in a snowstorm," he adds.

Raising his glass as well and clinking it softly - ice against ice - Danta doesn't need to take long to think. "To ourselves, obviously," he drawls, before swiftly knocking back the drink. Tart citrus explodes on his tongue, soon chased by a sweet burn of liquor, and the Maverick scoffs out a surprised laugh. "The glass might be cold but that'll warm you up if you let it," he says, voice roughened by the alcohol.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// i saw the walls, finished and plain //

The correction is greeted with a crooked shark-tooth grin, broken up by the chuckle that leaves him as he nods in agreement. “That is true. It would have required a miracle.” To make ice during a blizzard enticing, that is. And even still, here in the much warmer climate of Torchline, Asta is admittedly hard pressed to find the idea comforting of indulging in the ice. At least he hasn’t lost his fire magic.

But thankfully, the Maverick doesn’t take long to toast, clinking their ice glasses together and with a huff of agreement and a quiet “salud,” does Asta knock back the limoncello shot, the citrus sparking against his tongue in a refreshing and still sweet taste despite the liquor that burns. “I fully intend on letting it, yes.” He agrees, voice equally rough before he’s inspecting the shot glass curiously, already seeing the way his fingertips start to turn grey.

“It is kind of adorable, even if it is cold.” He hums, twisting it here and there, slipping it into his other hand so that when he sparks the green flame to get the grey of his fingers back to normal he doesn't melt the cup right away, unsure if Danta wants to put something else in it or if it's entirely just for the one shot.

Astaroth

// lavender blooms on the ink of my name //

// you knew who I was //

"And unfortunately, unlike some people present, I am not a demigod, and so miracles aren't really my wheelhouse," Danta says, similarly juggling his shot glass so he can keep his fingers from seizing up. His original intention had been just for the one shot, but since they still have their glasses for now he wastes little time in refilling them with limoncello. "And to the stars," he adds, since they've got room for two toasts now.

"Right?" he says of the cutesy (and freezing) little ice cups, wasting no time in getting rid of that second shot so he can yeet the melting glass towards the dark crash of waves. "I have another drink for us too, don't worry," he adds, already rustling around in the cooler box again.

This time he produces real glasses, these filled with small ice cubes shaped like moons and stars. To them, Danta adds a generous amount of limocello before topping it up with prosecco, creating a spritz that will hopefully be much easier on their hands. "There, how's that?"

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// i saw the walls, finished and plain //

Affection glimmers in Asta’s dark gaze as Danta reminds him of his new status, snorting softly as he juggles the shot glass and warms his fingers with green flame. Easily holding it out for Danta to refill the glass with more of the limoncello, he also wastes very little time in downing this shot for the stars above them. And only when Danta’s finally gotten rid of the glass by shotputting it over the edge of the cliff to the waves that crest below, does Asta finally let the green flame flicker to life more fully.

Holding the glass off the edge of the blanket as it erupts with that green flame, it soon becomes a puddle into the grass off of their blanket. “You have thought of everything, haven’t you?” He purrs contently, tail lazily sweeping across the blanket as he starts to settle finally. He watches as the new glasses are produced, still with ice in cute little shapes but at least far enough away from their fingers to cause any hardening of limbs they don’t want to be hard, and he gladly snags it with a small grin.

“Much better. This drink is nice, darling.” He murmurs once he’s snagged a sip of the sparkling, refreshing drink and reaches out to snag his fiance’s hand that doesn’t hold the glass to let his green flame lick at the Ancient’s cold fingertips. “Add a little sage and it would remind me of you.” He muses, raising his brow as he lifts Danta's hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of his knuckles.

Astaroth

// lavender blooms on the ink of my name //