all the blood and the dust

// no one wants a half remembered tragedy. You must know the width of the knife //

The dragon does make the trek back home shorter than it would have been on four feet. And it only reinvigorates the desire that the butcher has to wrap himself around Danta and not leave – thoroughly exhausted by the trip and how much it had exerted from him. But he wants to sequester himself away in the colorful tent, bully his way into not letting Danta part from him, but he has to get there first.

He lands heavily, as is expected for the block of cement that flies through the air, but it’s a much more graceful landing so far than he’s had in the past – heavy or not – and as the butcher gets closer to the tent, he shifts into himself, trudging over the sandy ground with his horns shimmering the bright rainbow hues of fire obsidian as he turns back toward Danta. Dark pants are worn, not unusual for him, but the unusual indicator is the sheer dark shirt he wears – leaving the shadow of each scar spidering along his torso and his spine as he shoots his shark-toothed grin over toward his fiancé. “Gods how I have missed this.” He says, arms flaring out from his sides to gesture toward the tent they’re walking back toward, pausing in his steps for Danta to catch up to him so he can wrap his arms around him and walk them back together. “Gods how I have missed you.” Like this, obviously.

Astaroth

// and how it ruined you. Name the organs it kissed //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Danta lets his lover descend first, chirping his approval overhead to see him manage to make a passable landing without accidentally faceplanting the desert. He circles lower, waiting until the colossal black shape morphs into Asta's familiar and handsome silhouette, before dropping down to join him. The Maverick, of course, is no stranger to going from wings to feet, and he completes his shift back just as he reaches the sand, kicking up a bit of dust but not missing a step as he catches up to the butcher.

"Mmm, it feels good to talk," Danta agrees, stretching his arms above his head and practically tumbling against the other man's side as his arms wind around him. "I know it's easier to explore in shift in places like this, but fuck." His complaints are dramatic but good natured, Danta flashing a fanged smile up at Asta and wasting no time in leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth as they walk.

He's dressed not dissimilarly to the butcher (proof that it's Leafchange, he supposes), his pants riding low on his hips and his shirt little more than a sheer, silvery tank top. All the better to peel off the second they get inside, he thinks. "Good job being a dragon, by the way," he purrs, now that he's able to properly give the compliment.

Dantalion

// no one wants a half remembered tragedy. You must know the width of the knife //

Dramatics are perfect for Asta, especially this time of the year. So as Danta all but collapses against him, his arms wrap around him and cage him in tight against him, a warm rumble of a laugh slipping from his lips as he nuzzles his head into the kiss pressed to the corner of his lips. “I missed your voice.” He murmurs softly, tugging them into the shade of the tent as his hands drop down to his sides, thumbs hooking into the belt loop of his low riding pants.

Practically preening at the compliment, though, his dark gaze scans the sharp panes of his lover’s face with a certain kind of arrogance and cockiness that Leafchange brings out in him tenfold. “Thank you, darling. I think I am getting the hang of it.” It’s a proud boast, confident and warm as he tugs him in closer to claim a true kiss after an excruciating amount of time without the taste of his lips.

Astaroth

// and how it ruined you. Name the organs it kissed //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"I'll be sure to whisper sweet-nothings to you all night to make up for it," Danta promises, happily ferried along in Asta's wake and claimed by his hands in a way he hadn't realised he'd missed so fiercely until now. Tugged into the shaded rainbow of their tent and kicking off the sandals he'd tugged on as they'd left for the skies, his arms are already looping around Asta's neck when he leans in; giving freely what he tries to take.

"Mm, you'll be a terror in the sky in no time," he mumbles against his lips, managing a small and fiendish smile before succumbing again to kiss and claim and share the sort of heat that had been little more than instinctive out in the desert. His fingers plunge into the back of dark hair, one leg hooking up and around Asta's hips, and if the butcher doesn't lead them to a soft landing in the furs and pillows, Danta is liable to make do with whatever bit of the tent he finds.

Dantalion

// no one wants a half remembered tragedy. You must know the width of the knife //

“Mm, you had better.” He murmurs before he’s fully taking advantage of the kiss – relaxing immediately upon the feel of the shade as it descends upon their bodies. The kiss breaks a bit earlier than he’d like, but is made up for the loss of it with the way Danta presses against him, the hands in his hair, the leg that hooks up and around his hip that he immediately drops an arm to support and tug him down with him in the nest they’d left.

Luckily for them in the time they’d been gone not much has tried to move in. A few lizards escaped the tent as soon as they entered, but apart from that it’s blissfully empty if not a bit sandy. Still dry, still warm, still smelling perfectly of them (which sates the butcher well enough). “What a terrifying pair we make.” He drawls confidently, all sharp teeth and attentive, settling back to let Danta drape over him as he indulges in the touch in his hair and stretches out himself until he’s comfortable enough to twist them so he blankets the Maverick.

Astaroth

// and how it ruined you. Name the organs it kissed //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Mm, I don't know - I think between us you cut a much more intimidating figure," Danta reasons, breath hitching only slightly as they tumble down into the comfort of the makeshift den they'd created on that first day in the desert. "And I love it," he adds, in case there's any confusion. Whether he's taking the form of a gentleman butcher or blotting out the sun with a dragon's wingspan, Asta never fails to terrify and impress, and now that they're fighting on the same team, Danta is keen to encourage it at every opportunity.

Delivering as much fuss as he's able to while draped across the other man, the Maverick huffs out a surprised laugh when Asta (of course) twists to reverse their positions. He doesn't complain, not in the least, stretching out comfortably and reaching up to brush a thumb across the other man's cheek. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to not leave the tent again for the next couple of days." He grins; by then, he knows, it will be time to pack up and head for home, and he doesn't try to disguise that small manipulation.

Dantalion

// no one wants a half remembered tragedy. You must know the width of the knife //

“I think you may be right.” He purrs confidently, equally just as playful as he melts in each and every touch Danta offers. Warmth floods through him as he runs his hands along Danta’s sides and up his back, priming him up perfectly to twist them, flipping them so he fits neatly against him, held up by an arm as his head tilts into the touch against his bearded cheek, eyes closing softly for a brief moment before they snap open to see that handsome grin.

It’s an easy promise to make, especially while his bones finally relax in the comfort of blankets and warmth. “Mmm, well, I think I can be persuaded...” It takes absolutely zero attempts to persuade him in this moment, with the promise of their tent and the creature comforts within it, being able to talk and enjoy each other in every which way. His hand lifts, the one sporting the diamond ring that strokes and brushes back wild blonde strands before he descends and presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to his lips before he withdraws again, tail wrapping around Danta’s leg so the flat portion of his inky spaded tail presses flat against his thigh.

Astaroth

// and how it ruined you. Name the organs it kissed //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"I was hoping you could be," Danta murmurs, just in time for Asta to lean in and close the distance between them again. His hand traces the curve of his jaw as they kiss, before dropping to press warmly against his chest, as if to feel the quiet thunder of his heartbeat now that he's able to touch him so freely. "Mm, when we get back," he says as the butcher withdraws, as if the thought has just occurred to him and has to be spoken into existence before he forgets it, "we need to throw a baby shower for Charlie."

He can't remember if or when Asta had been told about her pregnancy, only that he'd definitely gotten the news and it's freshly relevant now that they'll be returning to the Hollowed Grounds in a few days. "We can host it at the Dusklight. And make sure to invite Kaisel - he said he was the father, though between you and I the real father is Dygra - it's a demigod."

Dantalion

// no one wants a half remembered tragedy. You must know the width of the knife //

It is easy to convince him, especially right here and now, but as they part and Danta closes the soft space between them, he listens precisely to the plans that are already forming. A part of him, distracted by the sage and citrus still clinging to his lover’s skin perks up with the realization and remembrance that he had heard about Charlie being pregnant, having forgotten it in the turmoil his soul had gone through. “Ah, yes,” he pauses, the extra tidbit of information making him freeze, hovering above his lover with his dark brows lifting, eyes wide before a throaty laugh leaves him that likely vibrates through Danta’s hand at his scarred chest.

Sinking down onto him now, his grin is bright and entirely amused as he squints up at his lover. “Does Flora know?” He asks, bouncing a brow playfully, infinitely amused by the kind of bullshit that Kaisel always seemed to find himself in. And so long as the Accepted was around, Asta’s fairly confident nobody could say anything about the type of shit he gets into if Kaisel is the comparison.

At the very least, he’s positive he wouldn’t end up in that kind of situation. “A demigod, however? My, our goddess has been busy.”

Astaroth

// and how it ruined you. Name the organs it kissed //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Asta's weight sinks down properly atop him and Danta feels himself relax into it like it's a breath he's been holding for far too long, the Maverick shifting to adjust enough not to impale himself on his lover's horns. His arms wind around the other man now, fingers drifting across the sheer fabric of his shirt to clasp him close, and he grins right back at Asta with an honest shrug. "He said he was planning on telling her when he came and told me," he explains, "but I don't know if he ever really did."

Hence why he won't be specifically inviting Flora to said babyshower, even if he thinks she'd be a fine and chaotic addition to the matter. Kaisel can always bring her along after all - he's sure Charlie wouldn't mind. "She has, hasn't she?" he agrees of their dark lady, grinning another kiss against Asta's forehead. "She couldn't have picked better than Charlie, though." The little priestess was practically made for divinity in some fashion, and he imagines she's carrying it as effortlessly as expected.

Dantalion

// no one wants a half remembered tragedy. You must know the width of the knife //

Relaxing for the real first time since they’d come back to the tent as he comfortably drapes along his fiancé, he peers up at him with absolute amusement before he feels the slight shrug of his shoulders. “Ooh, drama.” He purrs playfully, a soft laugh leaving him as his tail squeezes Danta’s leg lightly, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

His eyes close as the kiss is pressed to his forehead, humming his agreement as he readjusts slightly to drag his hand gently along his lover’s shoulder. “Charlie will be wonderful for it, I have no doubts.” He hums, before his head is tilting a touch and he smirks back at Danta. “I am grateful to an extent that we had no part in it.” Because despite him not being Ancient, he does know how random and chaotic conceiving can be, and if it were Dygra’s right then and there with Charlie and Kaisel at the shrine, who’s to say it may not have been either of them at some point?

And this time of year, well, the butcher wants nothing to do with having to try and vy for Danta’s attention.

Astaroth

// and how it ruined you. Name the organs it kissed //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Mmhm," Danta confirms of the drama, a soft laugh leaving him. "So you'll have plenty to keep you occupied throughout," he adds, knowing better than to trust the relaxed, complacent version of Asta in his arms right now as anything permanent. The moment they return to the Grounds, in fact, he expects the butcher to revert back to his highly strung Leafchange self, but that doesn't mean Charlie doesn't deserve a celebration of her child.

Continuing to run his hands down the other man's back, it doesn't take him long to find the hem of Asta's shirt, fingers sneaking beneath it to seek out the heat of his skin. "She will," he agrees, before snorting at the butcher's next point. "Gods, I didn't even consider that," he blurts, scrunching his nose and suddenly clutching the other man closer, hooking his legs around his waist. "I'd be a fucking awful father. We should make an offering to Dygra to thank her for not making us a part of it."

Dantalion

// no one wants a half remembered tragedy. You must know the width of the knife //

Keeping him busy is probably the best way to avoid any unintentional casualties, and for that the butcher is quietly grateful even if it meant having to be around a variety of people. He’d do his best to keep his teeth to himself, but the blessed thing about baby showers was that it would be clear to him that nobody was there to steal Danta away from him. So perhaps he can learn to let his guard down a little (once it goes back into full swing upon returning to the Grounds).

For now, though, he’s exhausted and content and warm – the Fierw sated in his soul after having quite a good showing at the Boneyard not that long ago, and being able to get some of it out this time of year seems to have really helped. That and the warm press of his fiance’s fingertips under the hem of his shirt, his back expanding a touch as he takes a long and indulgent deep breath. “Ah ha, see?” The butcher points out, a warm laugh slipping from his lips as he’s clutched closer, his arms deciding to settle around Danta’s head, fingertips of one hand curling strands of gold while the other hand’s thumb brushes gentle strokes along the shaved portion of his hair. “Perhaps she realizes it more than we do and decided to save us from the horrifying opportunity?” He suggests with another warm laugh, before he’s bullying his way into getting Danta to flatten again slightly.

Astaroth

// and how it ruined you. Name the organs it kissed //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Danta puts up only a perfunctory fight as the other man wrestles him back into settling down, and he closes his eyes to properly enjoy the feel of fingers gliding through his hair instead. "Whatever her reasoning, I still plan to very properly show my gratitude," he says, his own hands starting to try and draw the sheer fabric of Asta's shirt up and over his head so he can fuss him properly. "We can go all out at her shrine. Bring something good to kill as an offering."

Blinking his eyes back open and grinning up at the butcher, he leans in just enough to plant a feather-soft kiss against his lips. "For now though, we're back here and we've still got a couple of days before we need to leave. And I don't know about you but I want to make the most of not having anyone else around." Or having a region to run or a brothel to manage.

Dantalion