(SE) dancing on glass

the streets are all violent with murderous excitement

He’s quite content to watch as the patrons thrive off of receiving bits and pieces of the Maverick’s attire, despite how he keeps his on and close to his chest, embracing the warmth and letting it penetrate the wool of his coat. He half expects to drink it here before heading to his room, but Danta takes the bottles and glasses and starts to move.

And he’s right, Astaroth is his tall shadow, right on his heels, footsteps clicking along the floor as they head down the dark corridor to a space he’s never been to, glancing along the walls as they walk. “It would have been shorter if we hadn’t been interrupted by mischievous teenagers with bad taste.” Asta’s voice rumbles as they walk, leaning in a bit closer at the mention that Danta has a larger fireplace, huffing a laugh.

“I can’t wait to see it.” He hums.

Astaroth

the hunter and the prey are dancing every day

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"Mm, it's quite the privilege," Danta says with a fanged grin over his shoulder to Asta. They reach the top of the stairs and the Maverick juggles the wine and glasses for a second to fumble for a key, before clicking open the door and leading them inside.

It's a large room, which is probably to be expected at this point, with light streaming in from a veritable wall of windows on one side; if Asta goes to look, he'll see that the Maverick's bedroom sits directly above the entrance to the Dusklight, giving a view of the Last Whisper outside.

And whilst Danta hasn't been around quite long enough to have an extensive collection of knick-knacks, his shelves and other available spaces are already cluttered with findings from The Climb, Torchline, the Greatwood and King's End. His bed - a four poster draped with furs and blankets - stands against the wall opposite the windows, with a large and roaring fireplace only a few feet from it.

"Make yourself at home," he invites.

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

the streets are all violent with murderous excitement

“So I have heard.” Astaroth murmurs, chuckling lightly beneath his breath. It often spread through the Dusklight, who had the privilege of spending the night with the Maverick in his own room, something Astaroth imagines is likely one spread about his own with how little anyone else (except Danta) shared his space. But that’s far past his thoughts as he steps in and takes in the large room, spotting the incredibly comfortable bed adorned with furs and blankets, to let his dark gaze take in the shelves, full of trinkets and things from varying travels.

Nodding, Astaroth steps further in, shedding out of his coat and gloves to be left in a nice black and gold silk shirt, folding the gloves and slipping them into the pocket of the jacket. He hangs it up on somewhere where it wouldn’t be an inconvenience and out of the way. The cane is set up against a dresser of sorts, and he starts to roll up his sleeves. “What a treasure hoard you have, darling.” He compliments, drifting over toward the fire as he unbuttons the first two buttons of his shirt, embracing the warmth of the much larger fireplace, waiting for Danta to wrangle the glasses and mulled wine.

Astaroth

the hunter and the prey are dancing every day

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"I'm not so sure it counts as a hoard yet," Danta says through a laugh, setting down the bottles and glasses so he can shrug out of his own coat. "But it's getting there."

While Astaroth heads to the fire and gets comfortable, Danta hangs his coat on an actual dressmaker's mannequin, and trades out his clothes for something more comfortable. By the time he's at the taller man's side, he's barefoot in a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips and an oversized cableknit sweater.

"To winning every snowball fight we've ever had," he toasts, pouring them both a glass of mulled wine and offering his own out to clink against Asta's. Alright, so they've only ever had one snowball fight as a team, but they won it, so... fuck them kids, amirite.

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

the streets are all violent with murderous excitement

Astaroth stops by the time he gets to the third button, shifting the collar a bit to make it more comfortable for him. “Given time.” He agrees, his rich voice confident in the fact that they will not be succumbing to stone this Deepfrost if only to keep the Maverick available to keep collecting his trinkets. “Perhaps we can collect something in the desert?” Maybe Danta can collect something from each and every corner of Caido for all the places he’d missed out on.

It’s a sentimental thought that doesn’t have room right now as Danta steps up beside him and he gladly takes a glass to open up Danta’s arms easier, flashing a crooked yet toothy smile. “To beating those awful children especially.” Asta grins, clinking his glass against Danta’s before taking a deep sip, sighing in content as it touches his tongue.

“Once again, you surprise me.”

Astaroth

the hunter and the prey are dancing every day

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"Mm, perhaps. Though from all I've heard, there isn't all that much to collect in the desert. Perhaps a nice skeleton, though." He grins at the thought; from conch shells to driftwood to pieces of obsidian and extravagant ornaments, he imagines the bleached bones might be a nice addition to his shelves. Glancing at the cluttered mantle above the fire (he's set down their bottles of wine there too), he takes a long, content drink from his glass.

Those kids had it coming," he says confidently - and let's be honest, he'd have the same opinion even if they'd been starving orphans when it comes to snowball fights. Another sip of his wine and he glances across at Asta, raising an eyebrow.

"In what way?" he wants to know. "Mulled wine isn't all that surprising, though I'll be honest, there's a lot more available to put in it here than there was at the Climb."

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

the streets are all violent with murderous excitement

“Maybe a dried cactus.” Asta points out, though the idea of a skeleton is far more intriguing. He has to throw out some other options.

Either way, they toast and sip from their glasses, and he seems quite content as he lowers it from his lips, lingering by the flame to soak up the heat. “It’s whatever else you’ve added to it.” The more that they didn’t have in the Climb.

Ah, but speaking of the Climb… He takes another bracing sip as he tilts his head toward Danta with a raised brow, leaning down into his space a little. “You know, I had a unique conversation with your Ambassador recently.” He hums, a catlike smile curling on his face. “Right after I helped warm her up so she didn’t accidentally turn back to stone.”

Astaroth

the hunter and the prey are dancing every day

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"Not even a live cactus?" Danta snorts into his wine. "Listen, I'll admit to collecting some trash, but I think I can do better than a wrinkled cactus." Grinning, he soon finishes his first cup and reaches out to refill his glass, clearly keen to be warmed both inside and out. "I'll have some delivered to your room throughout Deepfrost," he says with a smirk, reaching out with his free hand to let his fingers tease through the flames when Asta leans down to speak a secret into the shared space.

"Mm, did you?" he asks, as gossipy as any old woman at her bridge club. "Maea is a good soul, but she does get herself into some interesting situations," he continues, as if he, the Maverick, did not just risk turning to stone because he had a snowball fight with a few teenagers. "What did you talk about?"

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

the streets are all violent with murderous excitement

Amusement flickers across his face and Asta chuckles lightly with a shrug. “Dried because you wouldn’t have to worry about keeping it alive, darling.” He drawls as if that was his reasoning the entire time. Regardless, the prospect of having a stockpile of this is quite tempting, and his grin grows toothier and sharp as he dips his head, accepting the offer.

But there’s gossip to talk about, and Asta is very similar to Danta in that he loves it, provided it doesn’t revolve around himself. “Mm, well, she asked if it was difficult for me to adjust to becoming Ancient. I said no, told her of my darker proclivities. And she was mortified.” He hums, leaning back to turn to his side, as if slowly roasting himself on all sides.

“She advised me to make sure no one else knew.” He drawls with an air of amusement.

Astaroth

the hunter and the prey are dancing every day

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"How hard can it be to keep a cactus alive?" Danta objects, though if they had to make a bet on it - and he can sense that they are about to - he feels as though Asta would stand a fairly good chance of winning. "Anyway - bones are already dead, so that seems easier. And they'll be prettier than some dried, pointy plant."

Refilling Asta's glass as he spills the beans, Danta stays put before the fire, soaking in the warmth and letting it light up his face in shades of gold and amber. "Oho, you did?" He snorts, raising his eyebrows at the other man. "I was going to say that it isn't as though you go around advertising it, but you did tell her about it outright, so there goes that assumption about you."

You know, that Asta knows how to be smart. And subtle.

Still, Danta is grinning as he takes yet another drink of wine, shaking his head. "I sense a lecture in my future."

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

the streets are all violent with murderous excitement

Snorting at the implication, Asta is inclined to make a bet, but it sounds as if Danta’s made up his mind already. So he takes another sip once Danta refills it, and spills the tea, as it were, only to let his amusement flare further on his face. He chuckles deeply and shrugs, huffing a little sigh.

“I don’t.” Asta starts to say, the flicker of the flames lighting up his face. “But she asked directly, and I misjudged her when I thought it might help.” Which, was his bad, he supposes. “I simply explained why it wasn’t a difficult adjustment for me to make.” He shrugs a shoulder and huffs a sigh, reaching out to pluck a piece of fuzz from the Maverick’s shoulder.

“I apologize in advance, then.”

Astaroth

the hunter and the prey are dancing every day

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"As you should," Danta murmurs - apologise in advance, he means, the Maverick reaching out to casually swat at the taller man as he attempts to groom him. "And now you know, I suppose. Maea does seem to be one of our more sensitive citizens." He shrugs his shoulders; nothing to be done for it now, it appears, since the conversation has already been had.

Anyway; draining his second glass of wine and feeling appropriately buzzed, warmed up and comfortable, Danta sets down his empty cup on the mantle and stretches his arms over his head, before turning to promptly fall at his bed. It's close enough, at least, to see the Maverick sprawled comfortably among the furs on his stomach, and he shifts enough to make room for a second body, should Asta be so inclined.

"Now about that nap."

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

the streets are all violent with murderous excitement

“I am.” He drawls, smirking as Danta swats at his hand, laughing lightly as he downs the rest of his glass. He nods his head at the answer, though, knowing more now than he had, and a unique buffer for reminding himself to perhaps be a bit more hush (even if a few store owners in the Last Whisper had witnessed his trophy from the Torchline sailors causing an issue.)

Ah well.

Nap time sounds perfect and Asta is promptly warm like a heat rock, setting his glass beside the Maverick’s on the mantle and joining him on the bed, properly. He slips into the bed amongst the furs and sighs comfortably, pushing back the dark hair that threatens to fall into his face before he tugs Danta up to join him, immediately curling up against him to radiate the heat he’d trapped from the fireplace.

Astaroth

the hunter and the prey are dancing every day

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

Grumbling as he's forced to move, Danta shifts enough to bring himself somewhat level with Astaroth, though the other man will only see a glimpse of grumpy blue eyes before he promptly buries his face again. With a leg thrown across Asta's waist and an arm against his chest, it's enough contact for the Ancient to feel appropriately lulled to sleep, even before the addition of plush furs and fire-warmed sheets.

With a sigh that has him bonelessly relaxing into bed, the broad daylight outside clearly doesn't matter - the cold has taken more out of the Maverick than he'd like to admit, and within moments he's snorting softly into the crook of Asta's neck, tail flicking idly as he sinks deeper into sleep. All in all, a very productive afternoon, if you ask him.

~FIN

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you