Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god
It's a couple of days since his little rendezvous with Astaroth in his room at the Dusklight, but a few days still before the famed Festival of Lights will take him - and a lot of the Grounds, he imagines - out of town for a little bit. He's heard it's being held in the Oerwoud, a place that he remembers (vaguely), but beyond that, Danta isn't really one to care. Especially not when the Dusklight is busy, business is good, and the Grounds is doing so well.
The Maverick has just finished a conversation with one of the merchants in the Last Whisper, agreeing to stock a certain vintage of wine in exchange for Danta's help with a few issues he's been having with thieves. He's left looking like the cat who's got the cream, lounging on a dark coloured sofa, his waistcoat unbuttoned and his shirt mostly open, leaving quite a vivid collection of love bites on display.
If they bother him he doesn't show it, and nor does he seem to mind the world having its eyes on him and them, eventually rolling to sit up to call a waitress and ask for a refill of his drink.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
He’s been quite busy within the Dusklight today, even as Danta’s left to pursue more business moves. Asta’s been like a fly on the wall — a tall one, watching and intervening when needed, but for the most part he’s like a little wraith, meandering.
At least until Danta returns, without a care in the world, looking smug and comfortable as he gets a drink. Asta is the long shadow that casts over him briefly before he settles in beside him, setting the cane on the lip of the bar. “You look happy.” He drawls, tilting his head toward Danta even as he orders a nonalcoholic drink, something sweet, to sip on as his dark gaze continues to scan the area.
you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god
One might wonder whether Danta has quite forgotten that Astaroth is there while he's conducting his business in the Dusklight. And one would be right, but it's no slight on the other man's part - more proof that he's doing his job, and doing it well. Indeed, as he receives his drink, settles at the bar and a dark shadow falls across him, for a moment he's almost concerned that there's trouble brewing.
And so as Asta takes a seat beside him, offering small talk in lieu of ha ha, Danta, please duck while some drunk tries to take his head off, the Maverick's smile grows all the sunnier for it. "It is a happy day," he informs him, raising his drink in a cheers and clinking it against Asta's. "Then again, most of them are right now, don't you find?"
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Oh, his eyes are peeled for danger at any moment. He takes his job quite seriously, after all. He watches still, even as his drink is received and a toothy, saccharine smile is offered to the bartender at the moment as Danta clinks his glass to Astaroth’s own.
“Most of them are, indeed.” He murmurs his agreement, taking his sip and focuses his attention onto the Maverick, eyes lingering on the darkened bruises that he’s absolutely the cause of. Though he says nothing of it, just simply takes it all in. “It’s been quiet here so far, though the corner booth has been growing a little rowdy.” He tilts his head in that direction, though he’s not overtly watching.
you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god
"Quiet in a brothel can usually be considered a bad thing," Danta remarks, tilting his glass towards Asta. "But I get what you mean." With his tail flicking idly like a cat at play, the Maverick takes another sip of his drink, wincing only a fraction as the movement tugs at one of the nastier marks left behind from his tangle with the man beside him. Purposefully not looking at the booth Asta mentions, Danta instead fishes for the cherry at the bottom of his glass.
"What kind of rowdy?" he asks softly. "Are we talking drunk, losing at gambling, or are they being rough with the boys and girls without paying?" Each type can be treated a different way, of course - though knowing Danta, it won't be any of those three typical options, and the world will throw them a curveball.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“The rooms themselves are quite loud. Don’t worry, darling.” He drawls with a knowing grin, even as he does spot that little wince he has. He doesn’t comment on it and settles in, glancing now and then at the table in question though mostly watching from his peripherals.
The options he lays out has Astaroth humming a little. “Drunk and being rough. One seemed to consider throwing a glass earlier.” Had thought better of it for the moment, but he watches as the main offender in the group starts to get grabby with one of the waitstaff.
One that already has Astaroth sighing and shifting, ready to stand.
you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god
"Mm, you would know all about that, wouldn't you," Danta purrs, despite their own tryst not having been particularly loud - not in comparison to the sorts of sounds that regularly echo through the Dusklight, even through closed doors. Plucking the cherry from its stem and taking a moment to enjoy it, he listens as Asta describes the situation and also keeps an eye on it - as is his prerogative.
Only as he looks as though he's going to rise to his feet does Danta give the table a cursory glance, huffing out a sigh. "Use the cane and not the shift," he requests softly; snarling fyrhunds tended to make the patrons a little jumpy, and were best reserved for chasing off threats outside the door. "And let me know if you need a hand."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
Danta’s teasing is met with the deflating of some of Asta’s sails, huffing a little sigh. “Mm.” It’s noncommittal, as if he’s heard it and let it slip out from the other side of his mind. He’s too focused anyway. He watches the group start to grow even rowdier and as he starts to move and hears Danta’s gentle chiding, his shadow casts over the blonde again.
“Cane first. We’ll see where it goes.” He murmurs, tail brushing against Danta’s back as he slinks away, cane clicking against the floor as he goes to be quite a terrible menace to those disrupting the inner dealings of the Dusklight. He gets the waitress to step away, gentle and tenderly as he’s certainly capable of, and when one of the patrons starts to reach for her again, he’s met with the hard smack of the cane against the table. “If you cannot behave, then you need to leave.”
Which, of course, starts its own breed of drama as the rest of them stand as if they were capable of doing anything else.
He’s well versed in utilizing the cane to his advantage, enough so that all three of their arms are red and the scuffle starts, Asta using his height to his advantage to help him corral the troublemakers toward the door.
And the promise breaks shortly after one of them grabs onto his coat, utilizing their magic to scorch a mark in, aiming to set it on fire. It’s almost cute, if Asta wasn’t immediately miffed about his suit being ruined. So he shifts, turning into the fyrhund, snapping and snarling and puffing smoke at the three that keep getting herded toward the door.
you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god
"That seems like a fair compromise," Danta murmurs, offering a casual little salute to the other man as he takes his leave. For the Maverick's part, he takes a moment to finish his drink properly, thank the bartender, order Astaroth a new one for when he's finished cleaning house, and button his shirt and waistcoat back up. By this time, of course, the scuffle has broken out and he hears the snarl of a fyrhund rip through the air, and it's enough that Danta finally turns and rises to his feet.
The taller Ancient absolutely has things under his control - no surprise to Danta - and so he approaches only enough to reassure those at the other tables that everything is under control, leaning against an empty booth while the rowdy group of drunkards are escorted firmly from the premises. They don't go quietly, of course, but they do go, and all looks as though it's sorted when a few lances of ice are tossed back towards the fyrhund - and all those behind - as a parting shot.
"Oi," Danta barks out, one of the spears of ice catching him in the shoulder, though an inch to the left and it would have been the neck, so... you know. Luck and all that.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
It’s enough that Asta starts the chase the second they start to reach the threshold of the door, ice shards pelting behind toward him as one sinks into his shoulder too. Now the game begins.
He chases them out, and once they’re out of view of those within the Dusklight (he pays no parting look for Danta, sure that he’s likely fine), he snaps and snarls and chases until he tears a strip of skin away from the biggest offender, one that’s attached to a small chunk of his calf. Ah well.
It’s enough for the moment at least, the fyrhund retreating back and shifting back into himself before he steps into the door again, pulling the ice from his shoulder and tossing it out of the door before pressing his hand to the wound temporarily, looking a bit ragged as he returns with how scorched his suit is. “They won’t be coming back.” He informs the Dusklight, stepping over to grab his cane before returning back to Danta’s side. “Are you alright?”
you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god
"Ah, I'll live," Danta is saying as Asta returns to the subdued, if not slowly returning clamour of the Dusklight. Whilst the other man has gone on his hunt, someone has kindly come to help remove the fucking ice pick from his shoulder, and he's just finishing slapping a dressing over it, having abandoned his waistcoat entirely so he can undo his shirt and see to the injury.
"What about you?" he asks, blue eyes flicking up to glance over the other man. "All good, apart from..." Gesturing with his good arm at the state of the suit, he lifts his chin at the matching wound he suddenly spots. "Snap," he mutters. "Come on. I think you've earned a real drink after that."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“I would hope so,” comes the drawl, Asta settling into the seat and looking over as he keeps his hand pressed against the matching wound to see the dressings wrapped around (oh and every mark the fyrhund had left on the Maverick.) Asta doesn’t look that much better, not with his scorched suit jacket, with the hole punctured from the ice and the blood drying as it tries to clot.
He flashes Danta a roguish smirk, though, sighing lightly. “I got a small bite.” To any others listening they’d just assume he’d nipped in warning like a cattle dog. But no, he’d gotten a chunk and was quite pleased with himself despite the pain in his shoulder and the slight annoyance of his clothing being ruined. It’s enough of an answer as to how he is, though.
Especially as he waves over the person that had just fixed Danta up and shrugs out of part of his own clothing to get equally cleaned up. “Something strong sounds nice.” He says idly, spaded tail brushing against Danta briefly again as he’s readjusted so that the disinfectant can be placed, a hiss slipping out of his sharp teeth.
you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god
"Mm, you're too kind," Danta quips, grinning and letting a hand flutter to his chest, though he quickly lets it drop as it causes a slight twinge to his recently impaled shoulder. "Sorry the ice got you, though." It must have been a particularly unfortunate shot to strike the fyrhund between the armoured plating, but rowdy drunkards always seem to have the Rule of Cool on their side, in his experience.
Asta's small bite is enough to have his eyes lighting up, though, his tail idly hooking around the other man's barstool. "Now that is good news." Both for the Ancient, and for the idiot who will think twice before deciding to darken the Dusklight's doorway a second time.
Wrinkling his nose at the smell of the disinfectant, Danta orders them both a shot of some flavoured liquor that's recently come in. He doesn't know what flavour, but it should smell less medical, he thinks, sliding the glass over to the other man and raising his own to clink against it. "To a job well done."
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
“Mm, I’ve had worse.” Asta murmurs, flashing a small amused smile toward the Maverick. It’s a smile that broadens despite the pain of his shoulder and the disinfectant as the medic inspects the wound, because it absolutely was good news that he’d gotten a bite, staving off a trip to the clinic later.
It isn’t too long before he’s getting wrapped up too, slipping the shoulder of his suit back over his arm, wincing lightly as it presses against the pain. He murmurs a thanks and quickly picks up the shot, giving it a cursory sniff first, as if trying to determine what it was.
He lifts it to clink against Danta’s moments after, right at the time his spaded tail moves yet again, brushing against the blonde’s as it wraps along the other man’s barstool in turn (and maybe the end winds its way around the Maverick’s own, too). “To a job well done.” He repeats, before downing the shot and humming a sound as it burns against his throat, wincing lightly at the sharp tang of smoke and fruit left behind.
