and the mome raths outgrabe

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

Slowly but surely, Danta is ticking off every area of the Hollowed Grounds, and very soon he'll be able to say with confidence that he knows his own region like the back of his hand. It's strange, though - despite the fact that this particular landmark spears into the sky like a big black dick dark needle, he's never thought to visit The Spire before now.

But there's a first time for everything, and if the Maverick has also been slowly tracking a deer out here as well... so be it. Two birds with one stone and all that.

Turning his collar up against the sharp Leafchange breeze, he's a speck of ruddy red and pale blond on the landscape, swallowed up by the sheer presence of the Spire overhead. Before Danta knows it he's been swallowed by its shadow, and all thoughts of the deer have momentarily vanished. "Huh." He's not not impressed, put it that way.

Dantalion

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

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

He also hasn’t visited here, despite how very on brand it is for him. Dark tower to hide away in? What’s not to love?

But alas, the fingers had only sated so much and Asta finds himself fiending, tracking a herd of deer toward the Glade and the large spire that juts out from the earth. The fyrhund follows in their wake, tracking as they wander closer to the Spire, until the chase begins anew.

Something spooks the buck in the front and they scramble, and Asta bolts after it with a small bite taken out of its haunches the second it spooks, zipping past Dantalion without a single thought in mind as the buck careens through the brush and the clearing, aiming for the opposite side, slowing down the further it goes given the pain that the Ancient had caused it.

He continues the chase, resulting in launching at it to try and trip it up to keep it from running, a throaty growl erupting from his throat.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

Danta won't say it now, but he'll certainly pat himself on the back later for not jumping out of his fucking skin when the fyrhund goes barrelling past - not to mention the buck and the scent of blood that lingers so strongly on the air. Inhaling deeply and rolling his shoulders, before straightening his coat (it had been blown about somewhat given the speed of the chase), he slowly advances.

Of course, Danta isn't to know that this particular fyrhund is his bestest frenemy in the world. There are a decent number of Ancients in the Grounds these days, and this could be any one of them. Quite frankly, the Maverick doesn't really care, as long as they think they might be generous with their kill.

And thus Danta reluctantly decides that helping is in his best interest. And so while Asta might not see him, it's on the dark wings of a gore crow that he launches himself over the scrubland, talons outstretched for the deer's throat to end its misery and begin the feast.

Dantalion

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

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

To his credit, Asta doesn’t notice Danta. Too focused in his bloodlust to see anything but the blood streaming from his fiery jaws and the promise of succeeding in getting more. Unfortunately for Asta, though, he won’t be as collected the second Danta helps him with the hunt. A fact that isn’t evident just yet as he continues the chase.

Until, of course, it is.

The shadow of wings approaching from behind, swooping over immediately capture the fyrhund’s attention. A sharp growl that shifts into a near yelp as Asta slides to a stop as Danta succeeds in carving through the deers throat, the talons cleanly tearing out the creature’s throat.

And Astaroth doesn’t give in the chase, instead he’s close to the ground, ears pinned back, snarling at the crow after the deer has finally stilled. His tail is tucked tight and he’s half curled against the ground, fiery eyes frantically looking from the crow to above him as if expecting more, as smoke continues to waft from the beast.

All bloodlust put on the back burner in face of his sudden panic.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

Having no such qualms about gore crows and their ilk (despite the one particular corvid that seems to have taken a (dis)like to him within the Grounds), Danta only notices the blood, the kill and the way his entire body seems to sing at the prospect of tearing into the creature. Deer has become something of a favourite of the Maverick's as of late, and while it's likely just because he's hunted so much of it recently, it is no less exquisite this time around.

Only once the beast has stopped kicking and twitching and he's content with his fill does he gain enough sense to shift back, splattered with blood and seeming entirely in his element as he turns in a crouch to spot the suddenly cowering fyrhund. "My apologies," he all but purrs, straightening up and offering a roguish bow before stepping aside. "I only intended to assist - not to take the prize entirely. Help yourself."

Dantalion

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

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

He remains cowering, growling and hissing and watching for more as Danta takes his fill, fully unaware that it’s the Maverick that’s come to take part in the hunt. And it makes it even worse for him to sit there and have to watch, especially as the other Ancient shifts back and Asta only barely begins to relax, each muscle tense to the point of quivering, to pain.

Crouching closer, the fyrhund eyes Danta, sees the bow, and approaches to take a few strips just to take the edge off. He’ll save the rest of it for later; but he’s careful to position himself directly opposite of the Maverick.

Some sense comes back, though, in the face of rage and anger as he shifts into himself, still knelt in the ground, shirtless because he hadn’t anticipated not shifting until he was home again and content, only to practically snarl at the Maverick. “How fucking gracious of you.” He snaps through a snarl, though it’s clear there’s still that quivering tension of his muscles, and every fucking scar on display, carved from his forearms by his elbows all the way up his arms, criss crossing against his back and chest and deep in places that the shadows turn it black.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"I'm rather known for it in these parts. You're so fucking welcome, by the way." Danta's snark whipcracks out at the mere sound of Astaroth's voice - and the tone of it, in particular - such that it's as though their past (pleasant) few meetings never happened. Busy licking a streak of blood from the underside of his palm, it's only as he glares glances across at the other man that he takes in the state of him.

"What the fuck happened to you?" There are scenarios where such matters might have been handled more sensitively, but this isn't one of them. Perhaps if it had been Isla to come across Astaroth mid-hunt, things would have been different. Alas, it's the Maverick.

"Have it, I'm done," he adds, and if there's a sneering satisfaction in knowing that Asta gets his leftovers (however plentiful they may be), Danta won't hide it.

Dantalion

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

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

It’s yet another snarl that cuts from the Ancient’s throat, one he can’t hide in his exasperation as he focuses to ensure more of those stupid fucking birds aren’t around anymore, reaching forward in his current form to take another chunk out of the deer to hopefully try to gnaw on before his stress turns his stomach inside out.

His teeth grit at the question, though, half wanting to cover himself up like he’d just gotten walked in on while changing. “You fuckin’ happened to me.” He snaps, gesturing with a bloodstained hand to gesture about Danta and his current lack of wings. “Stupid starving, bullshit.” He growls out quietly in a smattering of mutterings, distinctly not looking at Danta as Asta focuses on trying to devour the piece he’d grabbed, trying to still the rapid beat of his heart, refraining unless Danta pushes it one more time to mention just what it was that caused such a visceral reaction.

His nose wrinkles and he wishes he had his cane with him to smack across at Danta from where he sits. “It was mine first.”

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"I have been happening to you since you decided to rejoin us in the land of the living," Danta points out testily, almost wanting to drag the deer carcass away for good measure despite everything he's just said. "And you've never given me the pleasure of a loss of composure before." And you know what? Despite the sudden and unexpected hostility, he really has never seen Asta so unlike himself.

It's thoroughly enjoyable.

Folding his arms across his chest and feeling all the more satisfied to be standing over the other man while he crouches over the kill, it gives the Maverick a detailed, if not ghastly view at the worst of the scars that carve through the other man's pale flesh. And whether he shows it often or not, there is a ticking mind going on behind that devil's smile. Danta tilts his head.

"It was the shift," he realises. "You got spooked by a crow."

Dantalion

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

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

He wants to snap a don’t remind me, but things have been comfortable since he’d arrived here, and he truly doesn’t mean it even if he’s so frazzled and on the fritz, jaw tight and no smile to be found. “Do not get used to it.” He does actually snap, trying so desperately to claw through the fog and haze of his mind.

Instead he mutters to himself, devours the piece of meat he’d torn off, focusing on everything other than his reaction and the fact Danta harbored the shift that could truly ruin his image. And when the realization is aired, Astaroth glares at Danta’s feet, nose still wrinkling before he presses the heel of a bloodied hand into his eye, exhaling a sharp sigh.

“Laugh it up.” He snaps, still pressing the heel of his palm into his face, before a second later a humorless laugh breaks from him (like he’s going through some kind of mania right now.) “Of course you would fucking have it. Can’t be fucking easy. No. Why would it be? It’s never fucking easy.” There’s deep exasperation within it.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"I don't plan to - but I have a feeling that with the growing crow population within the Grounds, neither of us will have much of a choice about it," Danta retorts, his smile tight and his expression cold. And he fully plans to laugh it up - hippity hoppity corvids able to bring the great Astaroth to his knees, har har har - but as the other man becomes so vastly unlike himself, it almost turns Danta's stomach.

He only realises too late that he's uncomfortable because Asta reminds him of himself.

Hissing a curse under his breath, his fellow Ancient will likely only hear the rustle of leather given that he's staring at Danta's feet, but nonetheless, the Maverick's ruddy red coat will land about Asta's shoulders only a moment later. "This isn't you," he remarks. "Get on your feet. You can wear that for now."

Dantalion

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

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

He’d prefer to destroy each and every one of them — provided he doesn’t turn into this mess each time he’s faced with one. But alas, it’s broken down to exactly that, a lot of talk and little action. Something that burns and burns in the manic sensation that blooms in a cycle of overcompensating and not quite doing enough. It runs in circles, Astaroth’s mumbling growing quieter as the heel presses harder, dark hair typically meticulously slicked back, loose where it falls into his face.

In fact, he actually flinches when the jacket falls onto his shoulders, the scars hidden now by the warmth pouring from Danta’s jacket. He works his jaw, swallowing as he lets it become some kind of armor, pinching the bridge of his nose as he finally starts to pull himself together, unfortunately with the Maverick’s help. He doesn’t want to admit it, and will fight about it if given the chance, but the other Ancient isn’t wrong.

And a rational part of him can remember the same being said to Dantalion centuries ago. It’s a boon that gets his feet under him sluggishly, running those hands back through his hair with a heavy exhale, drawing the jacket around his shoulders tightly as he draws up to his mostly full height, hunched slightly as his dark gaze focuses on anything but the Maverick, lingering on the deer he didn’t even get to enjoy.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

Danta has the good grace, at least, not to stare at Astaroth as he puts himself back together, the Maverick slightly turned away so he can adjust the bloody sleeves of his shirt now that he's no longer wearing his coat. And it's chilly out, for an Ancient especially, so Asta had better be fucking grateful for it.

Only when the other man is properly standing does he turn back towards him, all cold blue eyes and sharp cheekbones. "We can walk," he offers. "Or I can leave you to it. Up to you." Whether Asta actually chooses to speak about things is also up to him, and Danta is about to say as much when the tell-tale croak of approaching carrion sounds overhead.

It isn't surprising given the deer carcass, but among the vultures he can see circling, he knows there will be crows as well.

Dantalion

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

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

He is grateful, surprisingly, despite not saying anything. The jacket is right around his shoulders and he keeps his dark gaze trained on the deer while Danta’s voice reaches him and he seems to try and get more into the moment, trying to lean back into that casual cockiness, attention lifting to the Maverick’s face. His lips part, about to speak, when the cawing is heard above and he visibly shudders, working his jaw.

“Let’s just go.” He says gruffly, voice carrying none of the hard edges. He waits until they’re a bit further from the dive bombing vultures and crows, jaw working as he trails alongside Danta like a lost dog. “I, mm, can’t… be around them.” He starts to admit, dragging it from the recesses of his mind to try and explain. “It’s the reason Dygra took me in.” Roundaboutly explained, unable to get his mind to wrap around the full admission just yet. But the further they get the less tense his shoulders become.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///