Tumgik
#but of course i’d much rather have that than the people who think kyrie is completely useless and boring
thenightgazer · 3 years
Text
Spark of Stardust
Chapter 1 : An Interstellar Quest It's not a date. Vergil insists upon it, even when he doubts himself as he asks Lyra to accompany him to search for a perfect birthday gift for Kyrie. But just like the dying star that sparks its undying stardust; the "date" is just a start for him to get to know more about Lyra, as the librarian reveals her "little, deepest and darkest secrets"
Warning : implied psychological and drug abuse
Part 6 of Tales of Apotelesma
You can also read this fic on AO3
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
~~~
It starts with a soft hand that brushes his face. The fuzzy sensation wakes him up. The lamp on the ceiling is the first thing he sees when he slowly opens his eyes wide awake. His eyes linger to his surroundings— and that shocks him because he’s no longer in his bedroom at Devil May Cry. He’s awakened in someone else’s bedroom. The wall is painted with warm colours and there is a large bookshelf besides the bed. When he turns his head to his left, he spots toys and trinkets which supposedly belong to a little girl, and there sits a young woman who smiles at him.
Where am I?
“How was your sleep?” she asks him. Her soft hand ruffles his hair gently. “You look so peaceful.”
He’s speechless. Not because he doesn’t want to answer, but his mouth won’t cooperate with his head. His survival instincts scream at him to get away from this situation, but all he could feel is numbness.
“I brought you dinner,” the beautiful woman continues. He observes her cautiously; she is approximately in her thirties, with long brunette hair and brown eyes. She looks like the kind of woman who looks absolutely harmless. The way her body moves is delicate. Her voice sounds appealing as she tells him the menu and hopes he will like it. She gives him the same warm impression as his own mother, but this woman seems shady. Her eyes remind him of someone... but he couldn’t remember the person. The same cold, void eyes...
“The nurse said you haven’t eaten since last night. You refused to take your medicines. Why? Don’t you want to get better?” Her voice turns colder. “When I heard that you refused to eat, I couldn’t concentrate on my work. I’m afraid you won’t get better. Now you will eat and take your medicine for me, okay?”
He can’t follow everything she has said just now. Who is this woman? What medicines? What nurse? But his head nods automatically as if his body is controlled by someone else, and that little gesture makes this woman’s warm smile appear on her pretty face again.
“Good. Let’s eat! After that, I’ll read you something exciting. How’s that sound?”
He nods obediently, opening his mouth to eat the porridge. He can’t feel the taste, nor can he sense the texture of the food. But the woman looks at him as if she would blast if he didn’t eat. The sound of friction between the spoon and the bowl drives him crazy. She’s making sure that he swallows the food as she cleans up his mouth. After the bowl is empty, she proceeds to pour something from a bottle—medicine— on a small spoon and look up at him, opening her mouth as a command for him to mimic her gesture. She seems delighted when he swallows the medicine.
“Atta girl.”
What is this nonsense? What is that thing she put inside me?
But he knows he won’t get the answer.
It’s all just a dream, right?
The woman walks to the bookshelf. Her fingers run through the book until she finds the one she desires. She sits back besides him again and opens the book, her fingers scan through the pages.
“You don’t like Cinderella, so I picked up this one,” she shows him the cover of the book. “I guarantee you’ll like it! It’s called The Hobbit, an adventure story. Your favourite, right?”  
I do like adventure stories. But it isn’t my favourite. It’s Dante’s…
She starts her storytelling in a clear voice. “In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit...”
There’s something in her face when she reads. She seems more relaxed and softer than before, as if she got lost in the story. His suspicion is surprisingly gone while he listens to her and the familiarity strikes him again. She reminds him of his own mother when he was a child, reading him bedtime stories. Cambions in their early childhood needed a lot of sleep just like human children, but Dante and he always refused to sleep early and asked for more stories. There’s something peaceful about this familiarity. It calms him, then he decides to close his eyes again whilst the woman’s voice slowly fades away.
---
The dream shatters as Vergil’s cell phone rings loudly.
The hybrid lays still on his bed. He was sleeping for two hours just because he had no other options left to do aside from sleeping. Yet, even though his body doesn’t particularly need to sleep, he hates it when his slumber is interrupted. His hand reaches to find his phone and immediately pick it when he finds it on the desk beside his bed without seeing who’s calling him because he doesn’t bother to open his sleepy eyes.
“Dad?”
That familiar voice forces Vergil to open his eyes.
“Nero?”
“Yeah. You busy?”
“No,” Vergil throws a blanket from his naked chest as he moves his body to sit and brushes his hair. “What’s wrong, Nero?”
Nero doesn’t reply immediately. Vergil can hear a heavy sigh from his son and that makes him a bit anxious.  
“Nothing wrong. Just...” The young devil hunter lets out another sigh. “Today is Kyrie’s birthday. She invites you and the crews for dinner at six. Uh… six as in Fortuna time, which is an hour later from Red Grave time. Just in case you got lost in time again.”
“Of course. We will be attending the dinner. Thank you for the invitation.”
“It’s Kyrie who invites you, not me.”
“...”
“... but having you around here is not so bad. The kids were always whining whenever you and Dante left the house.” Nero’s response is almost excited and eager, much to Vergil’s relief.
The picture of Julio, Carlo and Kyle somehow makes Vergil grins. “You did very well taking care of those little rascals.”
“Thanks,” there’s a pause before Nero continues. “Anyway, I should get going. Nico needs my help to do some crazy shit.”
“I hope all is well for you.”
“You too, I guess...” the young man clears his throat. “And... thank you. For accepting the invitation.”
“It’s the least I could do,” The blue devil smiles, his anxiety is gone as their interaction goes smoothly. “Carry on, son.”
“Y-yeah— bye, then.”
Warmth fills Vergil’s heart as he cleans up his bed and folds the blanket neatly. Never in his life would he have thought that he’d become a father. Even though it was unplanned, having a son does change his life. He has no parental figures to ask advice from and those parenting books are not helping at all, but he learns at his own pace. Two years of effort of atonement is nothing compared to his sins, yet he wants the very best for Nero and is very protective to him.
Then the word stings him.
Birthday, huh?  
Ever since he was a little boy, Vergil has never understood the concept of celebrating birthdays. For him, birthday is just another day to pass. If anything, it seems like people love to celebrate the day when their life spans decrease. People are getting old, so what? Why do we celebrate that irony? Is that because of the presents and cake? Little Vergil never found the answer, but he did feel happy whenever he received presents and ate his birthday cake, even if that means he had to share it with his twin, Dante (he had given up the dream of having his own cake, since being twins means sharing almost everything). He didn’t even think about birthdays until Nero reminded him.
I wonder if he knows his birthday...
Vergil walks to the bathroom and washes his face. He looks at the mirror and the man guy in the mirror stares back at him. His reflection somehow reminds him of the strange dream. What was that dream about? It seems visceral, like it was my own memory. His heartbeat gets faster when he has a dreadful negative thought that it could be Mundus’ mind manipulation. If that was Mundus, it’s too pointless. He’d use my own memories to torture me, not with some kind of irrelevant vision.
“Mornin’,” Dante shoves himself besides Vergil and yawns. “I’m hungry.”
“Pleased to meet you, Hungry.”
Dante bursts into laughter. “Since when are you into dad jokes?”
“I’ll take the shower first.” Ignoring Dante’s question, Vergil picks up a dry towel and gets inside the shower cubicle.
Dante takes off his shirt and stretches his muscles. He washes his face and begins to shave his beard. “You said you fought Angelo demons at last week’s gig, right? Heard from Lady the same Angelo demons got sighted at another city. We still don’t have any information on who created and summoned them.”
Vergil wipes the droplets of water from his face. “It seems like those Angelo demons were none like all the artificial demons we have ever seen before. Their form, their abilities, their durability. They looked rather... futuristic, I'd say. I got an impression that the new Angelo was created mostly by advanced science rather than magic.”
“Another thing happened these past weeks. There are three outbursts at restricted medical facilities in different cities.”
“What medical facility?”
“Trish said that the three of them were research laboratories owned by Ravenhill Corporation.”
“Isn’t that the same corporation that won a peace award or something like that?”
“Yeah. The Ravenhills are an influential aristocrat with power over the health and security industry. Most of the health facilities in this world are sponsored and if not, owned by Ravenhill Corporation. They have a branch company here in this city too.”
“And do you think those incidents have a connection with the appearance of Angelo demons?”      
“Just a gut feeling, but that’s worth investigating, better safe than sorry, aight?” Dante brushes his hair and flips it back like Vergil. “Hey, I look just like you with this hairstyle! Perhaps I should go with this style from now on.”
“If you’re done talking, get out of the bathroom.”
“This is MY bathroom!”
“And I’m the one who cleans up the mess you’ve created in this house, Dante.”
“Fine~!” Dante chuckles as he cleans up the remaining shaving foam from his jaw. “Have you bought something for Kyrie’s birthday? Got missed calls and a text about the dinner party from Nero.”
“Not yet.”
“I’ve been thinking of giving her a fancy revolver. Heard from Nero that she’s quite good at using guns.”
“... do you really think that women fancy weapons as a gift?”
“Trish and Lady do. But hey! You can go ask our clever librarian!” Dante's face lightens up in exhilaration.
Vergil turns off the shower and wraps a towel around his waist as he opens the cubicle. “What do you mean by ’our’?!”
“Yours, then. She’s a normal civilian woman. Perhaps she can recommend you a perfect gift for Kyrie.”
No, if only you know that she’s not normal! “... you’re probably right.”
A teasing whistle comes from Dante as he takes off his pants and walks inside the cubicle. “As Yoda said, Verge, ‘ do or do not. There is no try ’. Call her and ask her out for a date.”
“I’m not taking any advice from a man who has rotten luck with women. And who is Yoda?”
“Call it what you want it. If you’re not asking her out, I’ll go ask her by myself.”
“Not before I step over your dead body.”
“Ha! Someone’s jealous for realsies~”
Vergil walks away from the bathroom before his inner turmoil tempts him to try to kill Dante… again. His insolent brother might have been teasing him too much, but in a way he’s right. He needs to find someone trusted enough to help him buy the perfect gift for Kyrie.
But she’s on duty today is her work day. I won’t make it right on time to the party if I have to wait for her shift to end.
He’s still thinking about it when he enters his room on the second floor and grabs his phone. Lyra’s contact name is showing up, but he hesitates. It’s still 9 o’clock. The library must have just opened.
After having a quite long internal battle with himself, he decides to call her anyway.
It takes a little bit long for Lyra to finally pick up her phone. Vergil catches the sound of her voice and a man’s laugh who Vergil assumes is Nate. “Bugger off for a minute, will you? — Clayton here.”
“Lyra.”
“Oh, hello Vergil!”
“Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all! Is there anything I can help you with?”
“... yes.”
“Are you okay? You sound like you want to cry.”
“I am certainly not,” Vergil groans at Lyra’s giggle. “Yet, I do believe I need your help.”
“Name it!”
“... it’s about a birthday present.” Vergil clears his throat. “Do you remember Kyrie, my son’s fiancée? She will be celebrating her birthday this evening. She invited Dante and I to her house for dinner.”
“I see.”
“Kyrie has always been there for Nero,” he continues. “She helped guide him to become the person he is now. She took care of him while I wasn’t there for him. She’s an important person to my son. That’s why... at least I have to show her some respect.”
“By giving her a decent birthday present.”
“Yes.”
“I think she will appreciate everything you give to her.”
“She will, certainly. She’s too polite to reject a present, but I don’t want her to think that I’m a careless father-in-law by giving her a gratuitous gift.”
“You’re right. I’d be delighted to accompany you to buy the present, but…I’m on duty right now. I’m afraid I couldn't help you any further.”
“That I know. That’s why I call for your advice.”
“I suggest something small, but meaningful. You told me she love to sing, right? Maybe a vinyl of classical music would — what in the bloody—! Nate! Give me back my phone at once!”
Vergil hears them grumbling and arguing at something. He considers to just hang up the phone given to his hunch that Lyra and Nate are probably having a fight right now, but suddenly he hears Nate’s voice as the young librarian speaks to him.
“Mr. Vergil? It’s Nate!”
This scoundrel's audacity...! “I recognize your voice, Nathaniel. What are you doing with Lyra’s phone?”
“Err... sorry for the interruption, but Lyra forced me to tell you this myself, or else you won’t believe her! I told her that I don’t mind if she wants to go on a date with you! My father won’t be checking on the library today!” Nate lets out a dry chuckle to break the ice, but since Vergil says nothing, Nate continues to speak. “She insisted on at least working today, so I told her to finish the duty earlier so she could spend her time with you. That’s all! Oh yeah, a little advice here; Lyra has a terrible sense of direction, means that you should hold her close— ouch!”  
A sound of a book slapped on Nate’s head comes to Vergil’s ear. The next is Lyra’s nervous voice talking to him. “Vergil? You heard Nate. So... we meet at three. How’s that sound?”
“I’ll pick you up at the library.”
“Okay!”
“Then... I’ll see you around.”
“Cheerio!”
Vergil hangs up the phone, unexpectedly feeling the queasiness after he recalls the word ‘date’ as Dante and Nate said earlier. Foolish. We are not dating. We are just going to buy a birthday present. That’s all. Stop this unnecessary disquietude. It’s just Lyra—
“Tell me you’re not gonna go on a date with your boring clothes!”
Vergil hardly glances to his side and sees Patty’s figure standing by his door. The twenty years old girl is wearing an apron and holding a broom in her hand. “At least wear something stylish! You and Dante are all hopeless! No wonder the two of you haven’t gotten married yet!”
“I believe that’s none of your concern, Miss Lowell. And although I lack what humans would consider common sense, the last time I know about human norms and etiquette, that it is rude to trespass on someone's private space and eavesdrop on other people’s conversation.”
“I’m not eavesdropping! I just happened to pass this room while cleaning this house because lately you are not present in this house and Dante is being a lazy bastard as usual! Show some gratitude!”
“Thank you for your help. But as you can see now, I am here and that means I will do the household job while you can go disturb Dante’s peace now.”
“Hey! I heard that!” Dante shouts from the first floor.
“Anyways, let me help you to choose better clothes for you!” Patty insists. “I don’t know who this girl is because Dante won’t tell me, but she seems special to you. You need to dress at your best! Impressing a girl on their first date is a must!”
“I’ll forgive your impudent attitude this time if you kindly close the door, Miss Lowell. I need to put some clothes on.”
Realizing that Vergil wears nothing but a towel wrapped on his waist, Patty flusters as she looks away and grabs the door knob violently. “Fine!”
The blue devil chuckles softly when he hears Patty goes downstairs and screams at Dante for whatever antics that he does right now. He searches through his wardrobe, pondering if Patty was right. And maybe she is. He’s about to blend into society, that means he needs to look less suspicious. He should wear something casual and humane.
Humans and their fashion. Even demons are much simpler.
He picks some clothes with a hope that he won’t look too ridiculous.
---
“Do you think he’s the type of person who brings flowers for a date?” Nate throws paper planes at Lyra’s direction, which she blocks it all with a book.
“Why do you insist that this is a date? We are friends. Friends go hang out sometimes.” Lyra says.
“Dammit, Lyre! You are older than me but I can’t believe you’re so clueless about this. Even idiots could tell that he likes you!”
Lyra groans desperately. “That’s it. That’s the problem of modern society. People nowadays confuse politeness with flirting!”
“Sometimes both work simultaneously! And that’s the case of Mr. Vergil. Sure, he’s polite to everyone even though he always looks like he wanted to kill someone. But he’s different with you; he’s not just polite, but kind. That’s two different things!”
Lyra half-heartedly listens to Nate’s babble; despite she already knows what is inside Nate’s mind. She knows what he means about Vergil being kind only to her, and Nate’s mind interprets how soft Vergil is whenever he’s around her. The thought of those forms of romanticism confuses her. Being a telepath, she has seen and listened into people’s minds for almost her entire life. She’s no stranger to the concept of love according to universal belief, yet she still doubts its existence.
Sometimes, what people think about something isn’t always synchronized with how they feel about it.
And speaking of which, I haven’t heard Nate’s thoughts since fifteen seconds ago...
“He’s here!” Nate declares as he looks up at the window near the front door. “Wait, uh... is it really him?”
“What?”
“He looks... different.” Nate mumbles. “And he didn’t bring flowers. Guess he’s not the flower type of guy.”
“On the contrary, he is.” Lyra takes a brief look at her appearance in the mirror and puts on eyeglasses before giving a wink at Nate. “See you tomorrow!”
“Now who’s excited about the date!?”
She giggles throughout her journey to the front door, only to be surprised when she opens the door and finds Vergil standing in front of her and about to open the door too. But today he looks stunningly different; he is wearing as black shirt beneath a navy-blue casual coat. His dark trousers make him look taller than usual. He changes his footwear into a pair of black chukka boots. Even with his usual warrior clothes, Vergil Sparda is already breathtakingly handsome. His casual look just enhances his majestic stature.  
Lyra has never really given any attention to fashion, but now she can’t take her eyes off of him. “What’s with the sudden change in your sense of fashion?”  
“You don’t like it?”
“I like it!” she blurts. “You look… so… normal”
“Is it just me or does it sound like an insult?”
“It’s a compliment!”
“... thank you, I suppose,” Vergil reluctantly scratches his nape. “Shall we go now?”
“Let’s!”
Lyra glares at Nate who’s giving her double thumbs up and loudly wishing her good luck before she closes the door.
“So,” the librarian walks side by side with Vergil. “Do you remember I mentioned that I purchased my devil arm at an antique shop?”
“Yes. What’s with that?”
“I think it’s a good place to start our quest. The shop sells antique weapons, jewelries, old books and trinkets. Perfect collection for Kyrie.”
“Very well. Where’s this shop located?”
“Nova Town.”
“It’s too far from here.”
“Lucky for us, you have Yamato.”
“I’m beginning to think that you see me as a mere means tool of transportation.”
“Maybe,” she winks playfully. “But you are too decent to be a mere tool, my dearest friend.”
The hybrid rolls his eyes, “Let’s find an empty alley first.”
---
“That was the first time I saw Lyra smiling like that,” Nate mutters at himself as he taps something on his cell phone. “Good for her! Ever since I saw their chemistry on the murder in the library weeks ago, I know they’re going to form a relationship soon!”
The twenty four years old librarian giggles at his own fantasy while drowning himself further into a mobile game he always plays whenever he has free time. He almost startled himself when the bell rings and a customer comes in. Nate abruptly pauses the game and greets the guest. “Welcome to The Literarium!”
The guest — a tall and ginger-haired man — returns Nate’s greeting with a nod. A suspicion arises in Nate’s head as he observes the man’s eyes that are covered with sunglasses. Why the hell does he wear sunglasses indoors? He continues to follow the man’s movement, which is also suspicious. The man seems detached from reality as he stares at one of the shelves quite long without really doing anything, not even touching the books. He walks slowly to another section, again without any interest in the books. The man seems eager to look for something as he repeatedly tilts his head to look outside the window, but Nate is certain that he’s not here for books. Then why bother coming here if he’s not interested in books? Nate clicks his pen anxiously. Paranoia begins to consume him. What if he wants to rob this place?!
The ginger-haired man approaches the sale section and finally picks a book. He looks at the cover briefly before heading to the counter. Nate fakes a polite smile when he scans the book— Lord of the Flies by William Golding— and forces himself to make a small talk. “Fine day, isn’t it?”
The man nods while giving Nate his money. “I agree.”
“You like allegorical one, huh?”
The man furrows his brow. “Sorry?”
Nate lifts the copy of Lord of the Flies . “You don’t know that Golding wrote one of the best allegorical novels all the time?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know. I only recognized it as one of the bestseller books,” the man chuckles. His laughter surprisingly sounds very friendly. “I picked it because the synopsis reminds me of the past.”
“Jesus, what a chaotic past you must have back then.” Nate gives him the book and his change.
“Quiet so,” the man flips the page, but Nate can sense he’s focusing on another thing. “By the way, the woman who wears eyeglasses… She came out from this place with a man about five minutes ago. Does she work here?”
Shit, another Lyra’s admirer. That explains my suspicion! “Yeah. You know her?”
“She looks like a person I used to know. Quite different, but I spot some similarities.”
“Maybe they are the same person?”
“The same person?” the man chuckles again as he closes the book. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“She died years ago.”
“Oh, man… I’m so sorry...”
“It’s fine. She wasn’t related to me, just a person I knew. At first glance, your friend looks eerily similar to her,” the man’s face abruptly turns into doubt and anxious. Nate swears he can see his hands tremble. “I was terribly surprised when I saw your friend out there. I thought the woman I knew was alive again. What is the name? Your lady friend, I mean.”
“Louisa.” Nate lightly says his lie as soon as he’s aware of the man’s intention. I’m not doing anything wrong. Lyra told me to fake a name in case some flirty bastards ask me her name.
“Louisa, then. Pretty name,” the man seems pleased at Nate’s answer. “Thank you. Lovely library, anyway. Good day for you.”
“Thank you. Happy reading and have a good day!”
He’s different from any of Lyra’s secret admirers, Nate feels uneasy about the man’s strange attitude even though the man has already taken his leave. He makes a mental note to contact Lyra soon after he closes the library. “That guy looks like he’s about to plan something fishy. But I can’t disturb Lyra and Mr. Vergil right now.”
Nate grabs his cell phone and restarts the game with a hope that nothing bad would happen.
---
She’s strangely quiet today.
Ever since they arrived at Nova Town, Vergil catches something unusual from Lyra. She guides the way to the antique shop without talking to him but carefully watches her surroundings. But at the same time, she seems to lose her focus and sometimes stares blankly at something. They have been walking for almost 30 minutes and they haven’t arrived at the antique shop yet. Also, that’s not the only thing from her that is unusual... “You wear eyeglasses.”
“Huh?” Lyra automatically touches her eyeglasses. “Why? You don’t like a girl with eyeglasses?”
“I don’t dislike it.”
“You have a funny way to compliment others, don’t you?”
“I have never seen you wearing eyeglasses before. I thought I was looking at a completely different person when you opened the door earlier.”
“I always wear eyeglasses whenever I’m out to shop, just for aesthetic purposes. I’ll take it off if that makes you uncomfortable—”
“Please don’t. You look lovely with that.”
“Thanks!”
“You’re welcome. Are we getting closer to the shop?”
“… I think so?”
Vergil stops abruptly, “Tell me we are not lost.”
“W-we’re not!” she stutters in panic. “I’m just having a little confusion here, because this town looks different from the last time I came here. It has only been two years and the town is already changing...”
“Are you even certain that we are in the right town?”
“One hundred percent certain!”
“Then tell me,” Vergil curves a devilish grin. “Is Nathaniel right? That you have a terrible sense of direction?”
A light blush blooms on Lyra’s face. “Uh... yeah— but we are in the right town! For real! Just because I have a terrible sense of direction, doesn’t mean I’m an idiot!”
“Yet we are lost, aren’t we?”
“We are not! See that monument over there? It’s the town’s icon. We just have to turn left to that road and the antique shop should be on the right corner.”
Vergil watches the monument that Lyra mentioned before he glances at her again with doubtful looks. “Alright, then. But why don’t you use… what is it again... GPS?”
“Later. I’m practicing my sense of direction by practicing my telepathic ability.”
“Does your telepathic ability have something to do with your sense of direction?”
“Since the murder in the library, I’m practicing to read people’s mind whenever you’re around me because your magical defense blocks my telepathic ability. Normally, all I need to do is just focus on their minds and find out if some of them have knowledge of the place I’m about to go.”
“Why bother? You still can read minds by touching their body parts.”
“That’s impractical! Not everyone wants to be touched. Just imagine if I need to touch a person with haphephobia.”
“I thought you like it when you don’t have to read minds anymore.”
“Just in case of an emergency. Who knows if we would find any strange cases again, or if I’m stuck with Dante and there’s an urgent situation where I’m required to smuggle into someone’s head.”
“Hold on. Your telepathy doesn’t work on Dante too?”
“I guess the power of Sparda includes protection from telepaths.”
“I see. Now I understand,” Vergil scoffs. “The reason why you were awfully quiet since we stepped in this town is that you tried to practice your telepathic ability to find out the antique shop’s direction, so you won’t embarrass yourself in front of me because you have poor sense of direction and you think having to use GPS would make you look unreliable as a guide.”
Lyra hides her hands behind her back and stares at the ground, which to Vergil indicates that everything he said is true and that she’s embarrassed to admit it. To be very honest, he doesn’t think that Lyra does something wrong. He just wants to clarify things behind her unusual behavior, but it unconsciously sounds like he’s scolding her for her little secret.
“Just use the GPS if you need it. You have nothing to be ashamed of. That won’t make me think less of you.”
Lyra seems to hesitate at first, but eventually shrugs and takes her phone out from her bag. Vergil quietly smirks at her surrender.
“Fortunately, we’re on the right track!” She shows Vergil the map. “Thank you for your encouragement, Vergil. That’s the longest advice you ever said to me.”
He shrugs it off. “I guess that’s what friends are for.”
“Still, that means a lot to me.”
“Just forget it. Then how’s your practice going?”
“Still doing my best. The first time I tried to read someone’s mind without touching them whenever you were around me, it was all nothing. But now I can see blurry images and hear buzzing sound!” She smiles at him, her eyes beam as she points at the rustic shop at the corner of the street. “Look! We've arrived!”
When Vergil enters the antique shop, he expects the shopkeeper to greet them with unstoppable pestering offers like all the shopkeepers normally do. That’s why he hates shopping. Thankfully the shopkeeper is sleeping on the counter, like she doesn’t care if someone steals one of the items. The shop itself is quiet and the goods are all unique. The problem is, Vergil doesn’t know where to start searching. There are many items that Vergil puts a certain degree of interest in—necklaces, bracelets, clocks, paintings—but he doesn’t think that it would be useful or meaningful to Kyrie. He starts to think about Dante’s suggestion to give her a weapon for self-protection. It seems easier than this endless searching.
“Do you know the biggest dilemma when it comes to shopping? You expect to find a certain thing, but when you’re in the shop, suddenly you’re not sure what to buy anymore.” Lyra chuckles at Vergil’s confused expression.
“Evidently,” Vergil picks an antique revolver. “I think I want to give her a weapon.”
“Is Kyrie an excellent combatant?”
“She can take care of herself, though she still needs a lot of practice, but she won’t survive a second if she had to fight multiple opponents.”
“Mmmm... okay but... how about something for protection from the demons?”
“That will do. It’s way more practical and useful.”
“Alright. Let’s ask the shopkeeper.”
Vergil points his chin at the counter. “She’s sleeping.”
“I’ll wake her up.” Lyra fixates her focus on the shopkeeper until she slowly raises her head from the counter table and rubs her eyes.
Vergil almost couldn’t hide his amusement. She can wake someone up from slumber? How advanced is her ability actually?
The shopkeeper yawns loudly. “Welcome. How can I help y’all?”
“We’re looking for an item for protection from demons. Do you have anything suitable for that?” Lyra asks.
The shopkeeper looks straight to Lyra’s eyes, then to Vergil’s. She sighs as she walks to the weapon cabinet. “I don’t have much of that, but I have this one. Take a look.” she mumbles, handing Lyra a red music box. The music box looks captivating with a rose pattern carved on the box. When Lyra opens the music box, Vergil recognizes the box is playing Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier.
“Lovely, but I don’t see what’s so special about the music box,” Vergil mutters his doubt.  
“Easy, dude. Push the button near the mirror to open the secret room behind it.”
Lyra does the exact instruction until the secret room is opened and reveals a golden bracelet inside.
“What’s that for?” Lyra asks.
“It will glow red whenever there's demons nearby,” the shopkeeper lights her cigarette and walks back to the counter. “When the bracelet glows, you press it and close your eyes, because it will cast a very blinding light. It’ll blind and burn demons and that’s the best time for you to run away.”
Lyra glances at Vergil, who’s examining the music box and the bracelet. She holds her giggle when she notices that the bracelet glows in red when Vergil holds it and abruptly puts it back to the secret room behind the mirror before the shopkeeper notices it.
“I guess the bracelet couldn’t distinguish demons and cambions,” she whispers to him.
“This should be fine,” Vergil forms a satisfied grin. “It has both protection advantage and aesthetical function. Perfect.”
“You take that?!” the shopkeeper shouts eagerly.
“Yes,” Vergil replies. “Is there a money-back guarantee in case the item doesn’t properly work?”
“This is an antique shop, dude. Some items might not working at all—”
“I believe I don’t have to repeat myself.” Vergil insists.
The shopkeeper gulps at Vergil’s unspeakable death threat within his icy eyes, knowing that there’s no use to argue with a man like Vergil. “Dammit, fine! Now can I get my money?”
Lyra howls with laughter, “Blimey, you are a terrifying customer.”
Vergil grins in pride as he heads to the counter.
---
The birthday party will begin in an hour, but Vergil chooses to spend the rest of the time with Lyra at the Sparda Manor. During the day time, they only meet in the library. That makes their little adventure today seem rare... and fun. Lyra buys them ice creams at the end of their journey in Nova Town. She can’t hold her laughter when she catches Vergil’s eyes sparking in childish interest as he holds his ice cream once the magic portal opens its way to the Manor.
“The shopkeeper was different from the one whom I met two years ago. He was nice and helpful,” Lyra murmurs, licking her bubblegum ice cream. “Guess he didn’t work there anymore. We get a sleepyhead instead.”
Vergil says nothing as he examines his blueberry ice cream cone. His memory of V eating cheeseburger hits him. “Why do humans think that creating something messy is a good idea?”
“It’s called innovation, Vergil.”
“Messy innovation.”
“As long as people like it, it is considered as a great innovation.”
He finally gives up and chomps his ice cream. “This is not bad.”
“Tell me this is not your first time eating ice cream.”
“I might be inexperienced in human lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean I never tasted ice cream.”
It’s strange, Vergil recalls the moment when they used to be strangers before Almagest helped them to get closer. Now they stand side by side and talk about stuff like old friends to the point where he could never get enough of her companionship. He lets her wander around his childhood house, even if he barely calls it a house now. He lets out a silent chuckle when she lifts a pile of rocks up to the air just to see what hides behind it, only to find another ruins and she’s slightly disappointed.
“For a second I thought your father was Johann Sebastian Bach.” Lyra looks up at Sparda’s family painting.
“You are not the first person who said that.”
She laughs. “Oh look at you… stoic since you were born. And I already got a picture on Dante being impatient while the painter kept asking him to stand still.”
“Pretty much correct. He complained how itchy his feet were at the end of the session.”
“Your mother was gorgeous,” Lyra admires Eva’s angelic stature. “No wonder Sparda fell for her.”
Vergil forms a wistful smile. “She was.”
“This painting reminds me of The Picture of Dorian Gray .”
“Pray tell, why?”
“Dorian sold his soul to the devil for eternal youth, and it decayed his self-portrait painting every time he did a sin. Of course your family portrait is a different case, but you see, your mother’s face is the only one that didn’t get burned by fire. It’s like a sign that she was the only human in the family…”
“And the rest of the family members were cursed by the evil blood that ran in their veins. That’s why the faces of the three of us were burned. That’s a picturesque perspective.”
“I didn’t say that demon is always evil—”
“I know. Still, it’s a good metaphor. Haven’t thought of it myself.”
“Why don’t you take the painting with you? People keep their family portrait in their house.”
“Dante and I agreed to leave it here as a sign that this mansion once belonged to our family. Besides, I can’t imagine such a painting to be hanged on the shop’s soiled wall. It would be a disgrace for the painting itself.”
“Now that you mentioned it, I think you are right.”
Lyra continues to lift some rocks and put it back carefully once she finds nothing interesting.. “Have you been in there again after you escaped the Underworld with Dante?”
“To collect mementos, yes. Though, as you can see, nothing much was left since Urizen destroyed the whole city. Not to mention almost all parts of the house were destroyed or blocked by pillars and huge stones. We tried to remove them, but it’d cause a domino effect throughout the manor and demolish it completely.” 
“How did it feel to visit your childhood home again?”
Vergil swallows his ice cream at once. He puts a handkerchief out from his coat and wipes his lips. “It felt mostly heartbreaking.”
“I see,” Lyra nods and gives Vergil a light pat on his shoulder. “Not everyone could even come back to the place where their trauma began. Not that it’s necessary. I just found it encouraging.”
“Speaking of memento, what was the most valuable present you had ever received?” Vergil curiously asks.
“Oh, we start to have a small talk now?”
“I thought we agreed to trust each other, don’t we? Then we should start from mundane things.”
“Alright. Make sense. Let me recall it… mmmm… oh right! A lyre!”
“You play lyre? Amazing.”
“I thought you were about to say ironic.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“You know, a lyre plays a lyre.”
Vergil smirks, recalling her remark on their previous little adventure, “You’re right. It’s ironically amazing.”
The librarian rolls her eyes as she bites the ice cream cone. “My mum bought me one for my fifth birthday. It only lasted for two months before I asked her to give me a harp for the next birthday.”
“Did she finally buy you a harp?”
“She didn’t.”
“Why?”
“She died before my next birthday.”
Vergil immediately stared at Lyra’s sullen eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay,” she smiles at him, chewing the last part of her cone. “It was a long time ago.”
Lyra has so many things she hides behind her amicable demeanor, and Vergil should’ve feel relieved because after all these months, Lyra finally opens up a little bit about her family, yet he doesn’t feel it at all.
“Were you close with your mother?” Vergil’s tone is full of consideration.
Lyra taps her fingers on her chin. “I guess so. We only had each other.”
“… How did she… die?”
The librarian smirks at him. “If I told you she fell from the tree, would you believe me?”
“Only if that’s the truth.”
She goes silent for a while, seeming unwilling to continue her story. She opens an empty drawer, looking at nothingness for a while. “You might’ve heard about her.”
“Your mother?”
“Uh-uh,” Lyra nods calmly, but Vergil senses a slight hesitation. “Her name was Asteria Crescent.”
Impossible! “The award-winning astronomer?”
“Astrobiologist, yes.”
“I see. That explains your fondness of astronomy.”
The first time Vergil heard about Asteria Crescent was when he was eleven years old, still homeless and constantly moved out from place to place in search of power. Asteria’s groundbreaking research of modern astrobiology broke the news. Her discovery led the scientists to rethink human’s position in this world and question the exact location of the Underworld in the known universe, considering demons as an extraterrestrial creature with its own origin and evolution. Demons and magic are inseparable, but Asteria Crescent was brave to make a further step to explain demonology in a scientific approach. Science and magic are two sides of a coin , Vergil recalls her statements. Science just has yet to understand magic.
“Asteria was a Titan goddess of falling stars and nighttime divinations. That suited her very well,” Lyra chuckles bitterly, swinging her hand to lift a pile of ruins back to its place. “I once wondered why she didn’t name me Hecate, daughter of Asteria and goddess of witchcraft. Maybe at that time, she didn’t have a thought that someday I’ll develop this… psychic ability.”
“The media never reported anything regarding her cause of death. It happened all so sudden, they said.”
“They always spoke highly of her. But when she died, they turned the story into rumors and gossip.”
“So did she fall from the tree?”
“She did fall.”
“But not from the tree.”
Vergil’s demonic eyes catch Lyra’s body slightly flinching, but she maintains her calmness and fakes a smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you further about your private life.”
“You entrusted me your biggest secret. I intend to do so. I’m just… not ready to open up, but I know that I want to.”
“When I said that we should try to trust each other, I didn't mean that you should abruptly open yourself to me.”
“Too late. Now you know I’m the daughter of a dead astrobiologist.”
“Why did you change your surname then?”
Lyra stops and gazes at Vergil. She seems anxious while glancing at her surroundings carefully, as if she’s afraid that someone else would hear them. Vergil slightly bows his body when Lyra whispers in his ear.
“I’m being hunted.”
The furrow on Vergil’s brow is going deeper. “By whom?”
“Someone who wants to abuse my power. That’s why I need to change my surname and hang out around wearing eyeglasses, so people won’t find out about my identity.”
For a moment, they stand still there, staring at each other’s eyes to find some clues. It’s logical that Lyra’s unique ability would attract power-seekers, be it humans or demons. Vergil knows it too well; the danger of possessing a greater power. A part of him wants to believe her words…
If only he failed to spot a subtle grin on the corner of her lips.
I would be absolutely fooled by her deception, Vergil grunts discontentedly. "You are lying, aren’t you?”
Lyra’s laughter echoes throughout the lake.
Vergil snarls at her unstoppable giggle. "Quite a jester, I see.”
“I take that as a compliment.”
Vergil doesn’t bother to reply, because he knows it would lead to another bickering. He doesn’t try to hide his amused smile too, even though Lyra teases him about the ‘sly devil smile’. To be honest, he couldn’t care less. He just wants to see her smile, her true smile.
Like the way she’s smiling right now.
“Do you want to have a look at the lake?” Vergil offers, trying to lift the mood. “There’s nothing left to see here.”
“Sure!”
They sit on the cobblestone pier in the lake while admiring the twilight sky. It’s Vergil’s favorite place, ever since he was a child. This place has changed; there are no more Qliphoth roots left and there are several trees and wildflowers growing on the land. The lake no longer contains human blood. It’s mesmerizing how fast time flies and changes the entire city.
“I used to spend my days here, reading and playing with Dante,” Vergil says. “We loved being here more than staying indoors.”
“I can see the reason. It’s bloody beautiful here.” Lyra mutters her admiration. She taps her fingers on the cobblestone playfully, causing a small rift in the lake.
“Dante once pushed me to the lake because we fought over a chocolate bar,” Vergil recalls one of his precious memories. “I pretended to be drowned. He pulled me out of the water and cried, pleaded to me for not leaving him alone and that he’s sorry. Promised me that he won’t disturb me again. Right when he shook my body to wake me up, I pushed him to the lake but he managed to drag me with him.”
Lyra can’t hold her howls of laughter. She chortles until her stomach hurts and her throat gets sore. Vergil swears he never saw her laughing like this. “I’m sorry— I— HAHAHAHAHA!”
“Lower your voice,” Vergil grunts. He starts to regret his decision for rambling about his childhood antics just to get rid of Lyra’s gloomy face. “You might end up choking yourself to death.”
“ Pfffftttt!”
“Will you shut up?!”
“Sorry!” Lyra bites her thumb to hold her cackle but fails. “I just… bwahahaha! It seems that ‘never hold a grudge to the people who wronged you’ is true!”
Vergil pulls her thumb away from her teeth, caressing her reddened thumb. “A little deeper, you would bleed your thumb.”
The careful touch from Vergil distracts Lyra for a while. It’s the first time he holds her without gloves on, and it surprises her how soft his palm is despite the fact that he is a warrior who wields various weapons. Her thumb slips lightly from his palm. “Even if I bleed, I got your Lucy Pevensie’s cordial to heal me.”
Vergil sighs heavily as he removes some strands of Lyra’s hair from her forehead. “I gave it to you for an emergency case only. The cordial was made mostly from demon’s blood, mixed with rare herbs and some complicated spells to make it suitable for human’s bodies. Even the bottle was made from demon’s materials to prevent physical damage. Trish produced only a few bottles of cordial, so use it wisely.”
“I will,” Lyra picks out the cordial bottle from her bag and shows it to Vergil. “See? I haven’t used it since Capulet.”
“Put it back into your bag before it slipped from your hand and fell into the lake.”
“Alright alright! Why do you sound a lot like my mother?” Lyra puts the bottle back into her bag.
“You are clumsy and easily distracted. I have to keep my eyes on you every time. It’s rather distressing.”
“I can take care of myself!” Lyra lays a punch on Vergil’s chest. “Remember, I weakened Phantom last week, so you devil twins could kill that spider easily!”
The cambion smirks disdainfully to her weak strike. He puts something off from the back of his coat and hands it to Lyra. It’s an old book with a black leatherbound with the title engraved in a beautiful golden emboss. “Your payment for escorting me today.”
Lyra observes the front cover with beaming eyes. “The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe...”
“It’s one of the mementos I brought from the Manor. I reckon you would love Poe, given to your fondness of horror and mystery.”
“Then I have to refuse! It’s yours!”
“I believe I made myself clear when I said the book is for you.”
Lyra was about to refuse again, but quickly zip her mouth when Vergil glared at her with his terrifying and undeniable gaze. He won’t take any ‘no’ from her. She flips the pages, and something almost falls from the book before Lyra catches it quickly; an antique necklace with an obsidian pendant. She takes a closer look at the pendant and recognizes the familiar white, shiny dots pattern on it— the Lyra constellation.  
“… did you pick this one too from the manor?” Lyra asks carefully.
“… it was from the antique shop.”
“I didn’t see you strolling around the jewelry section.”
“It was displayed on the counter. Nothing special. Just normal jewelry. The pattern just reminded me of you—”
Vergil can’t finish his sentence because Lyra wraps her arms between his waist, locking him in a tight embrace. He can feel the strange, but comfortable warmth fills his body as he returns to hug her without hesitation. Her body is so small and shorter compared to his height that he needs to bow slightly in order to balance the embrace. He loves her scent— a strange mixture of peach, black tea and old roses— and quietly inhales the intoxicating fragrance from her hair. He feels like he could do this all day.
“Thank you,” Lyra’s murmur vibrates his chest. “I’ll cherish this forever.”
“It's just a book and a necklace.”
“These are the best presents since the lyre from my mum!” she chuckles. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually hug people around.”
“Neither do I.”
“So let us hug a bit longer, shall we?”
“It looks like I have no choices but to comply.”
For a moment, they banish their distrusts about each other, breaking the adamant barrier and wishing the time to stop ticking.  
---
Yesterday, Lyra dreamt of a boy who wanders around a big house.
She thought it was just a meaningless dream, at least until she realized that she was the boy himself. She looked at her—  his — reflection in the mirror; the little boy was handsome with swept back silver hair and a black pajama. His serious and grumpy expression reminded of someone she couldn’t remember yet. She— the boy —wandered off around a big and dark house. It wasn’t her own intention; like her movement was controlled by someone else. She opened a chamber and let herself in. There was a woman who lay unconscious on the bed. Lyra could see traces of tears on the woman’s sullen face. Her body forced her to lift the quilt to cover the woman’s body and tip-toed herself out from the room.
When she was about to go back to her room, she heard a wheezing cry and followed the voice to the main hall. It didn’t take her too long to find out the source of the voice as her hand reached to open a white drawer, where another little boy with the same silver hair cried inside it.
“Vergil…” that little boy stared at her with a turbulent sob coming out from his mouth. “Father… you… you d-d-don’t believe that he died… r-right?”
I am…Vergil?
Does that mean that this crying boy… Dante?
The next thing Lyra remembered was she woke up with tears stream down her face like a waterfall, soaking her pillow. She was sure the sadness she felt in the entire dream wasn’t hers, but Vergil and Dante’s. She was going to tell Vergil about her strange dream when she saw the exact same white drawer in her dream at Sparda Manor, but she thought she was biased. Vergil had told her about how devastated his family was when they heard that Sparda was deceased, and her dream must be just her brain playing a trick to her.
But then she thought, Vergil never told me that he found Dante hiding and crying in that draw…
Tonight, Lyra falls into another strange dream. Even weirder and scarier. A titanic, god-like demon tortured her in the most unimaginably painful way. Her entire body was chained and spiked. The demon was merciless. His face was full of disgust and hatred as he spat her insults and penetrated her head with dreadful illusions she couldn’t even envision. He kept calling her “disgraceful offspring of the traitor Sparda”. It was only then she realized that she wasn’t herself, but Vergil.
Lyra fights herself to wake up, and is barely successful. The dream is too visceral that she almost still can feel the pain all over the body as she opens her eyes. Her back is wet from her own sweat.
Why do I keep dreaming of him? Moreover, I never experienced this kind of pain…
Does it have something to do with our accidental mind link on that day? Strange things have happened since then...
Her wave of thoughts are interrupted by the sudden thirst in her throat. She snaps her fingers and the light from the lamp brightens the bedroom. The door cracks slowly to open its way for Lyra. The librarian walks with leaden steps as she rubs her sleepy eyes. She almost stumbled upon a chair when she entered the kitchen.
“A cuppa sounds delightful to cure nightmares,” Lyra mumbles at herself, swinging her hand to summon a cup from the drawer. The cup flies and lands right in front of her, but she makes no further movement but staring blankly at the cup. Her body is still shivering by the imaginary pain from her nightmare.
“From all the people in the world, why does it have to be Vergil? This mind link is vexing me...”
The harsh cry of a raven causes Lyra to glance over the kitchen’s window. She curves a light smile while opening the window and lets a little raven enter her house. The raven lands on her shoulder for a while before flying around the house and lands on the kitchen counter.
“Where have you been, Corvus? Haven’t seen you for days!” Lyra greets the raven.
The little bird tilts its head and squawks. Lyra giggles as she pats the raven’s head. “Hey look. My friend gave his poem book to me and one of the titles is The Raven. I like it, by the way. And I’ve been thinking about him lately, even dreaming about him. To be honest, it’s disturbing. Do you think I should invite him here and tell him the truth?”
The raven gives her a nod.
“You are right. A cuppa is best served with a friend, don’t you think?”
Corvus flaps its wings eagerly. The black bird flies around Lyra’s head before making its way outside the house.
“Leaving already? You haven’t eaten yet!” Lyra shouts at the raven. “Alright then, send my regard to your girlfriend!”
Corvus squawks something like a curse, causing Lyra to barks in laughter. She heads back to the counter as she turns on the radio to entertain her confusing state of mind, picking the channel telepathically until she finds her favourite channel. She listens to the song while summoning her phone from the bedroom, tapping the screen until Vergil’s contact name pops on the screen.
Down in the willow garden
Where me and my love did meet
As we sat a-courtin'
My love fell off to sleep
I had a bottle of burgundy wine
My love, she did not know
So I poisoned that dear little girl
On the banks below
I drew a saber through her
It was a bloody knife
I threw her in the river
Which was a dreadful sign
“By Jove, that song is sinister,” Lyra chuckles darkly. Her solemn face is turning pale. “As for the poisoned little girl… well…”
She clicks Vergil’s name, waiting for the devil to answer with fingers tangled between the black pendant on her neck, hoping half-heartedly that he wouldn’t pick her call.
~~~
A/N : the song mentioned at the end of the chapter is “Down In The Willow Garden” by The Everly Brothers.
Tagging : @drusoona @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz @shiranyaaww @andieperrie18 @rubixa-seraph @blooddrop-palace (I honestly forgot who to tag, so if you want to be tagged just send you reply or DM me! XD)
Masterlist | AO3
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sethrine-writes · 4 years
Text
Daughter of a Devil, Ch. 17
Main Characters:  Father!Dante & Daughter!Reader
Words:  1317
Warnings:  Injury, Angry Reader
Story Summary:  Being a parent wasn’t easy, nor was there such thing as being perfect at it. Good news for Dante, seeing as how he doesn’t have the slightest idea in hell what to do with a child. Sometimes, he was certain that fighting off a horde of demons was a far better match than keeping up with his own daughter. Well, at least he wasn’t going down without a fight.
A/N:  Hey. It’s been a minute. Let’s get right into it, shall we?
------
Chapter 17 - Just Another Moment (19 yrs.)
“Hey, you gonna be okay?”
You looked up at Nero who was now beside you on his haunches, watching as he carefully took hold of your wrist and pulled your injured arm forward a bit. There was a slight wince on your part, but it was more the pull of muscle that gave the painful twinge.
That last battle had been hell. Not only did you get injured by that scientist creep, Agnus, but Nero had also had a severe revelation about himself that was weighing heavily on his mind. Granted, you had been rather surprised by the anger that had taken over him during the fight, of which had been a high catalyst to his rather abrupt…transformation.
You had only ever seen such a thing happen to your father only a handful of times, the first being when you were very young and didn’t know anything about such happenings. Fear of the unknown had paralyzed you, then, warped many a nightmare until you had been able to come to terms with what you had seen. Nero's transformation, however, had left you baffled, speechless.
That, of course, hadn't gone over so well, as Nero saw your astonishment as more of a negative reaction and had taken double efforts to hide his right arm from your sight.
To make matters worse, Sanctus had Kyrie, a woman you had come to know Nero adored greatly, and he had made it his new mission to find her. His target was no longer Dante at that point, but you knew that you’d be seeing your dear father sometime soon if you helped Nero with his goal. You were basically after the same people, in a sense, so helping Nero also helped you, in the long run.
“I’m fine, I’m fine," you eased with a slightly strained smile, "I just need a moment, if you don’t mind.”
Nero studied you as you continued to breathe deeply, holding subconsciously to your left side with your uninjured arm. You were fairly certain he couldn't see how severe the injury was, which was good, but there was definitely blood seeping through your shirt.
What a hell of a moment to get yourself hurt.
“Here, let me help you up. We’ll get to a safer place for you to rest.”
You would have loved to argue that you’d be just fine after a few minutes, but you could tell that the injuries would be a bigger hindrance moving forward than you wanted them to be. There was no use in beating around the bush - at the moment, you were practically useless.
With a nod of your head, you reached up and managed only a pained grunt as Nero helped you to your feet, his arm keeping you steady as you leaned a good portion of your weight into him. He led you to a secluded area with decent coverage all around, carefully lowering you back down against a solid wall to rest. You sighed then, hoping that all you would need was a bit of rest so that the wounds could mend properly on their own.
“Well, kid, didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”
You had never been so simultaneously furious and relieved in one fraction of a second; the feeling almost gave you whiplash.
Nero turned just as quickly with a scowl on his face, his frame blocking yours rather well from the sight of Dante. You could already feel the anger rising in your veins; it would have been worse had you not previously been injured.
“You…. What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a guy walk around and enjoy the scenery without being judged?”
You could practically hear the smirk in his words as he taunted Nero. It was obvious he had sought out the young man for something, and you had a feeling it was because of the sword, Yamato, that Nero was in possession of. Of course, this thought was in the back of your mind as the main thing running full-force at the front of your noggin was to murder your father - in the most lovingly of ways, of course.
“Forget it. We don’t have time for your bullshit.”
“Who said anything about bullshit? I’m just here to collect a couple things of mine that you seem to have at the moment.”
“Psh, fat chance, old man.”
“Again with the ‘old man’ bit, eh? Ya know, you remind me of my daughter.”
“Is that so?”
Nero’s reply was rather mocking, though the next thing that left your father’s mouth had you seeing red.
“Yeah, you know what they say. All children act the same.”
You gave Nero a minimal warning as you pulled out Rein and shot several rounds in Dante’s direction. The rounds bypassed Nero and, much to your immediate satisfaction, found purchase in Dante’s body. You continued firing at him until your clip ran dry and all that came was a small ‘click’ sound.
Through the haze of anger, you had only seen the first few shots hit him, one in the head and another three in the chest. Now that you were finally calming down, you realized that they were the only shots that hit as he had easily dodged the others. You should have gotten furious all over again, but you were now much calmer and only held a small simmer of anger for your father.
“You asshole, you left me! You freaking left me in this damn city by myself! What kind of man does that to his daughter?!”
“His…his daughter?” Nero questioned as he looked to you with narrowed, disbelieving eyes. They widened when all the pieces suddenly clicked into place, and you could only offer a halfhearted smile before eyeballing Dante with your remaining disdain.
“Hey, you were the one that said you wanted a little more freedom, squirt. Gotta learn the ropes on your own merits. That's what you wanted, right?”
You glared at your smirking father, watching as Dante wiped away the blood that had come from the already closed wound on his head. You could have sworn he was immortal; any shot you ever hit him with, purpose or accident, never seemed to do that much damage. It was infuriating, but you couldn't help but be thankful, all the same.
“I didn’t mean in a freaking city I’ve never seen nor heard about! What if I had died, you idiot?”
Dante rolled his eyes as he moved forward to inspect the damage done to your frame, taking great care not to hurt you anymore than was necessary.
“Stop overreacting. You know damn well I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. This, however, wasn’t in the plan. You’ll be out of action for a good hour or so, squirt, so get used to lying around for a while.”
“Ugh, just…perfect!”
You looked over to Nero, calming your features while giving a small smile. “Sorry for slowing you down so much, Nero.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he was your father?”
You gave a small frown at the strange, almost hurt look on the other man’s face. “I tried once, but we were interrupted. It wasn’t very important at the time, and it never came up again.”
“Probably for the better,” Dante cut in suddenly. “If he had known, he would have probably tried to kill you, too. And you know how Daddy is when it comes to boys.”
“You know what, old man, I think I’ll have to take you down a notch,” Nero quipped before you could throw in your two-cents, his threat more than clear. It seemed to be what Dante wanted, as he gave a smirk and all but dared Nero to come closer.
“Hey, not by me!” you shouted as the two drew their weapons of choice. “At least have the decency to let me heal first without giving me another cut to worry about!”
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lswritingdesk · 4 years
Text
7. Furling
When Kyrie fell asleep that night, she felt the familiar pull of the Dreamscape. She entered curiously. It had been a while since she had felt compelled to enter the Dreamscape the way she had felt compelled to enter the Fragment. 
When she exited the vines covering her side of the garden, she could see that Daniel was already waiting for her in the centre of it. He was smiling at her in a way that made her slightly uncomfortable. 
“This is new,” she commented, gesturing to the garden. “Summoning me here instead of to your base.”
“I went to sleep with your rock in my hand,” Daniel said with a cocky grin. “It worked.”
“I can see that,” Kyrie replied. “Why is it that you summoned me?”
“I’ve just come from an interesting place. I know what you are,” Daniel said. Kyrie tried not to freeze on his words. “We went to a planet that once was the meeting place of four great races. We recognised the writing of the Nox and the Asgard. There was a third writing, that we called the Ancients. And then there was a fourth, indecipherable except for the name of the race. The Furlings. You. You’re a Furling.”
Kyrie contemplated her response. Elder Rhea couldn’t very well blame her for revealing something Daniel Jackson had deduced on his own. “And you came to this deduction all on your own?”
“It makes sense. You said you had an alliance with the Asgard, you knew of the Nox, you withdrew from the galaxy. You. Are. A. Furling. You are a being of the fourth race.”
“I can’t very well deny it after you put it all together,” Kyrie said at last. 
“But why? Why be so secretive? Why withdraw from the universe?”
“When the Ancients left, and the Goa’uld began to crop up, and the Replicators began to threaten the Asgard...we decided that it was best to withdraw completely. We grounded all of our interstellar ships. The shipyards are rusting, before you ask. We closed off all of our colonies. We cloaked Illyria. For all intents and purposes, we disappeared. It was for our own protection.”
“But you could be helping the Asgard in their fight against the Replicators right now! You could have prevented the Goa’uld from rising to power if you had stayed.”
“I cannot and will not make excuses for my Elders or predict what we could have done. What we could be doing. It’s not my place. I am a Scholar, Daniel, not an Elder, not even an Elder to be. My sacred geometry did not predict that. I cannot simply criticise my governing body like you are asking me to do.” Kyrie’s voice sounded thick. 
“But you’re a Seer, and you said Seers had the power to guide-“
“Not that kind of power,” she responded uncomfortably. For once, Kyrie wanted to be the one with her head in her hands. “Look, I’m uncomfortable with some of the things I am directed to do, I admit. I did not want to conceal things from you. There are things I must yet conceal. I must ask you not to reveal what I am, should the occasion arise that I finally introduce myself to others of your kind. And I ask the Alchemy that you do not fall into the hands of a Goa’uld or other enemy who finds out of our existence from you…” Kyrie sighed. 
“I’m...sorry. I did not think of that. That the Goa’uld could have learned of you through me if…”
“By the Alchemy, it will never come up. But you must understand that our situation has become more complicated now. You cannot tell the Asgard of me, either, understand. It is very important...you must…the journey you are on right now is one that you must take alone with the Asgard for now. I- we- cannot help. Yet.”
“Well, that at least makes sense.”
“It does?” Kyrie asked, genuine surprise in her voice. 
“Yes. We must prove ourselves to the other races one at a time. We probably couldn’t handle two at a time. So yes, it makes sense.” 
“Oh. I will still be here, of course. I can answer questions- probably more, now that you know what I am. I just can’t offer you the aide you seek.”
“If you had just told me from the start, this would have been so much simpler.” Kyrie sighed. 
“Perhaps. Perhaps it would have been harder. It would have been nice if the Fragment had shown me this,” Kyrie said. 
“Not omnipotent, eh?” Daniel said with a smirk. 
“I never claimed to be,” Kyrie said, an edge to her voice. “Visions in the Fragment offer guidance, and then I must interpret that guidance to offer my own guidance.”
“So I’m getting secondhand guidance, is what you’re saying?”
“If you want to put it that way, yes. I would never lie to you outright.”
“But you would, as you say, conceal things from me.”
“I was ordered to. Surely there are things that you are ordered to do yourself that you do not like?”
“Yes, but-”
“Then you must respect that I have aspects of my life that are much the same. You and I are not that much different, Daniel Jackson.”
“You’re an alien with the power to see beyond and see my future, but if you want to call us ‘not that different’, sure, go ahead.”
“It is comments like that that make the Asgard and my Elders make comments of their own that allude to your race as children. You are one of the better of your kind. I expected better of you.”
“That was harsh.”
“That was the truth.”
“I’m glad I know what you are. I can learn so much from you.”
“If you could see it, you would see that I was rolling my eyes at you.”
“I still don’t fully understand the veil. Our conversations would make so much more sense if I were able to see your facial expressions. When others of your society veil, are their veils aways so opaque, or is that just a Seer thing?”
“I’m going to regret you knowing that I’m a Furling. You should just save your questions and live with us for a Cycle.”
“I’d rather know now.” Kyrie sighed.
“No, the veils are not always opaque. My mother veils because she likes it, but she wears sheer blue veils that match her outfits. And hers aren’t electronic like mine is. My eyes were damaged by the Fragment the first time I went into it. I can adjust how much light enters my field of vision with an electronic veil so that I can properly see. Seers wear opaque veils because our eyes are...unsettling to most.”
“In what way?”
“If you were a Furling child, I would demand an apology for nosiness.”
“But I’m not a Furling child.”
“No, you are a Scholar, and I am in a deep hole with you. When my eyes were damaged, they became an opaque, milky white. It is the Mark of the Seer. Most people don’t want to see that, so we veil.”
“That seems a little unfair to you.”
“It is the way we have lived for thousands of Cycles. I do not mind it. Besides, I get away with a lot of facial expressions that I would otherwise have to make apologies for were I not veiled, because I am terrible at masking my emotions. I was constantly having to apologise for them as a child.”
“I take it apologies are big in your society? You’ve mentioned having to make public ones before.”
“Ah yes, for the swimming clothes and the public rudeness. That was...not fun. My mother shrieked at me over the holoscreen for my indecency despite my explanation. Yes. We are an ultra-polite society. There are standard apologies for most everything. Your Colonel will offend a great many of us when he comes to visit. I do not need a Vision to know that.” Daniel chuckled at this.
“He offends a great many people on our world as well. It’s kind of his thing.”
“Mmm. I advise you to do the bulk of the talking on your official visit here.”
“And you won’t give me a hint of when that might be?”
“You know me better than that by now, Daniel.”
“It was worth a try.”
“If we stay here talking, will our bodies experience actual rest?”
“Not entirely, so no, I will not let you keep me here the entire time to answer your questions. Besides, time passes differently in the Dreamscape than in the real world, never mind the differences between Illyria and Earth. I do have a job and a life, as do you. They will come searching for me if I do not appear on time, and though my Krewe leader is somewhat understanding of my...situation, I do not wish to overstep my boundaries with them. I’ve already fainted once on the worksite and left early another time.”
“Your work, do you enjoy it?”
“Immensely. Our forebears are fascinating. They did not use the Fragment or Seers to guide their lives as we do now. Learning about them and adding to the body of knowledge is quite satisfying.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve been to dozens of worlds now, and we’ve learned so much about Earth cultures just from visiting other worlds- it has been amazing. Some worlds are like living museums. I wish I could spend more time studying, but unfortunately my team is assigned to do a lot more than just study.”
“You will have your fill of studying one day, Daniel.”
“Another Vision of my future?”
“No, just a hunch. Everyone retires from active roles in their own time to do research, at least on Illyria. I suspect it’s the same on Earth.”
“Why isn’t the Seer destined to bring the Tau’ri to Illyria an Earth scholar instead?”
“That would be too easy. We have Earth scholars. There are more Furlings than you think on Earth monitoring different Timelines and ensuring that events happen as planned.”
“That’s a little…interventionist.”
“We’re all over the universe. It’s what we’ve always done. As soon as Lakme and Lakira charted the stars, we were out there, in the universe, doing what we did best.”
“But I thought you said your ancestors didn’t follow the Fragment or Seers?”
“They didn’t, not at first. They didn’t understand the Fragment for a long time. But there was just this innate sense of knowing among our people of how to guide civilisations or people or places along the right path without fully getting involved.”
“For millennia, leading right up to you.”
“Leading right up to me.”
“I suppose this is where I should stop asking questions and let you go with grace.”
“Perhaps for now. I have answered many of your questions tonight without very much ducking about the subject. You should be glad.”
“I am. Thank you for not ducking my questions tonight.”
“Thank you for not dragging me into the Fragment. The Dreamscape is a far kinder place to meet. Stay well. We will meet again soon.”
“I hope so. You stay well, too.”
--
@luckyninetales
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Kyrie eleison
A small contribution to the sadly underrepresented field of Fleabag fanfiction.
This is a love story.
Once upon a time, two people met each other at a passive-aggressive dinner party. They both had imaginary friends and severe emotional problems, and they both knew that their relationship would be an enormous mistake.
"If you ever need someone to talk to, or, you know, be there," he'd told her, ill-advisedly, before trailing off.
Later he said to God that he was only going to offer her pastoral advice and comfort, for her loss. God could tell he was lying.
When she actually took him up on the offer, he fumbled with his papers, dropped things, lost his train of thought.
Shut up, he said to God.
"If you ever want to talk about stuff, I'm here. You can come whenever you want. I'd like you to come, if it helps." He gave her a bible. It felt like handing over a book of love poems.
I can help her, he said to God. She needs guidance.
She had an imaginary friend, too. He could tell from the way that mid-conversation she would leave, for just a moment. It probably wasn't God that she talked to; it was someone with a sense of humour.
Three tiny cans of pre-mixed G&T later and they were side-by-side on a bench and any doubts he'd had about her intentions had been put to bed; their connection was such that he could look in her eyes and know. He'd walked through the possibilities for their relationship a dozen times, and he knew that she had too. The only thing remaining was to persuade one another of the right path.
There was a meta-conversation going on above and beyond the one they were having out loud. It was already obvious to both of them that they wanted to fuck. It was obvious that they both wanted more than that. It was all so horrifyingly obvious that to say it out loud would just be wantonly erotic.
"What if you meet someone you like?" she'd asked, the slut.
"I talk and drink and laugh and give them Bibles, and hope they eventually leave me alone."
"What if you meet someone you love?" See? Obvious.
"We're not going to have sex."
She looked a little hurt, but she didn't look surprised.
"I know that's what you think you want from me, but it's not. It won't bring any good."
See?, he said to God. I've handled it.
He had not handled it.
A bottle of good whiskey was helping, but some things, including uncontrollable feelings for the beautiful woman who you can't get out of your head because she just gets you, are made rather worse by alcohol. He idly considered his options - running away to sea, wearing some kind of chastity device, perhaps faking his own death - and then there she was, his sinful thoughts made flesh, standing in his office.
Fuck.
"You okay, Father?" she said. She's doing it on purpose.
"Ah, fuck, you," he said, with the honesty that comes with alcohol, "calling me 'Father' like it doesn't turn you on just to say it."
He was rather annoyed at how delighted he was to see her.
"Here's to peace," he pronounced, raising his glass, then pausing.
"And those who get in the way of it."
An attraction so strong that it corrupts a priest is almost impressive, but she couldn't quite bring herself to be proud of it. You shouldn't chase after a man who is already in a committed relationship, after all.
She was bursting with feelings with nowhere to put them - grief, love, guilt and fear were fighting their way out of her and she was barely holding them inside. It might not be the kindest thing in the world, she thought, to inflict her own mix of neuroses onto another person who was just as busy with their own problems.
This is the kind of time when people get drawn into the Jesus stuff, she knew. It didn't make any sense, but she almost caught herself praying to God, just for a little peace. Fortunately, someone else was available.
"I know what to do with you," he'd said. He made it sound dirty.
Once she'd started to confess her sins it became an unstoppable force, secrets spilling out of her in a rush of words she couldn't stem. The catharsis of finally releasing her fears and opening herself up to someone she could trust was overwhelming and she kept on until tears began to spring from her eyes, unbidden.
"So just tell me what to do," she concluded. Silence. "Just fucking tell me what to do, Father!"
She's exposed, vulnerable.
"Kneel," says his soft voice through the dark wood of the confession box, and a feeling of certainty pulls her irresistibly, battling against her misgivings. "Just kneel," he tells her gently, and she sinks to her knees, hoping for some kind of mercy, some kind of absolution.
Then the curtain is torn open and there he is, standing over her, with the most intense look on his face. He takes in the sight of her, kneeling in supplication, her moist lips parted, tracks from tears running down her cheeks.
He drops to his knees in front of her and traces the tears with his thumbs, then touches her face in wonder at the soft reality of her skin, before finally granting her the deliverance of a kiss.
She has the fleeting urge to say it would be more efficient just to get a glory hole installed, but the thought drifts away and the only thing in the world is the two of them, and she pushes her whole body upwards against his as they embrace, lips and tongues intertwined, hands clutching desperately at each other, until he flees from the wrath of God and from the temptations of her body.
The frustrating heartbreaking wonderful unsatisfying fumble sends her running to the bed of the lawyer who might be a misogynist, which did help for an hour or so.
Then, finally, he turns up at her door, with his little collar and everything, full of good intentions and explanations for why they couldn't do the thing that they were definitely, inevitably going to do; a future that was carved in stone the moment he crossed the threshold.
"I can't be physical with you," he said. This was nonsense, and she told him so.
"I can't have sex with you, because I'll fall in love with you. And if I fall in love with you, I won't burst into flames, but my life will be fucked."
We're going to have sex.
She's talking to her imaginary friend again, but if she doesn't pay attention and believe what he's saying, then he won't either.
"I'm supposed to love one thing," he continued, to himself as much as to her.
Oh, my God, we're gonna have sex.
"For fuck's sake! Stop that!" His resolve was slipping.
"I don't think you want to be told what to do at all. I think you know exactly what you want to do. If you really wanted to be told what to you do, you'd be wearing one of these."
"Women aren't actually allowed to -"
"Oh, fuck off, I know!" he explodes. She laughs at him.
He gives in.
"We're going to have sex, aren't we?"
She nods.
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
He tilts his head to the side and finally smiles. "Okay."
He unties her trenchcoat, then steps back when he realises that underneath she's only wearing lacy underwear and a sheen of coconut oil. After some hesitation, he admires the sight and strokes her hip lightly, with reverent wonder.
She has to kiss him before he changes his mind, and she does. She looks into his eyes, then at his lips. He takes her face in his hand and kisses her back, electricity coursing through their bodies.
He gasps against her mouth and they tumble towards the bedroom, intertwined, the soft curves of her body pressing against him urgently as he loses himself in her. She's grabbing at his belt, unbuckling it as he tries to pull her even closer to him, and her hand reaches down and just lightly grazes the head of his cock.
He breaks away suddenly and pushes her away, down onto the bed. Her eyes, heavy with lust, are a little confused.
Looking at her with great intensity, he kneels before her. He smirks, and pulls down her knickers, dropping them on the floor.
"Lord, have mercy upon us," he murmurs, and then buries his face between her legs.
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devilsnwitches · 5 years
Text
SSDD - Ch3 - Into the Fire
AO3 <Link - Written by Me & @lynxtigerwritings
Tags = AU Canon-Divergent / Canon-Typical Behavior
Pairings = Vergil-OFC / Dante-OFC / Nero-Kyrie / V-OFC / Nero-V
Note - READ LOVE’S SACRIFICE BEFORE THIS CHAP IF YOU HAVEN’T - Pairing V/OFC
“Are you shittin’ me? Three to four months and you guys haven’t been attacked yet? What the actual fuck?” Was the first thing Yvette said once she and Charlotte got the full story.
Charlotte had to agree with Yvette. Demons should have been swarming them the moment the deal had been made. They should’ve been prime targets for any and all sorts of attacks. That demon either had the patience of a saint, or there was something more at play. She looked over at the blue-black bird that was resting on V’s shoulder. Golden-beady eyes were steadily watching her, assessing.
The light bulb came on quick in her head. There was indeed a reason why demons weren’t attacking this kid, and it had nothing to do with the deal. “You’re Mundus’ familiar.” She turned to Yvette. “The fallen King of the Underworld. The throne is still up for grabs.”
“Well ain’t that a plot twist,” Yvette whistled, “Damn, V, you go man.”
V glanced towards his room where he’d done the ritual all those months ago. Yvette’s praise felt...good, in a way, but he bowed his head to her. "‘He who holds to himself a joy, doth the winged life destroy’." Taking every precaution had been what gotten him this far. At least that was what he liked to believe. “Xina told me you had...advice for me.”
Charlotte let out a long, slow breath. Her eyes wandered. His tattoos, the circles under his eyes, and how he held himself. It was clear that this took energy. She didn’t know what price he paid, but she didn’t doubt it was a heavy one. She glanced over at Alexina, who was quiet. They were both soft-spoken, good-hearted kids. She inhaled sharply and let it out again. “Kid...no.” She shook her head, “V.” She looked at him. His eyes were fierce. They told a story without her having to ask for a word. “I’m gonna be blunt and honest with you because I respect you. You’re one of the few people that I’ve sat with, had a conversation with, and know for a damn fact that my sister and I might not get out of here alive if we went up against you. That’s saying something coming from a seasoned witch of thirty years or so. Whatever demon you made a deal with...they fucked up. They weren’t expecting you, but they also won. Whatever price you told them you’d pay...and believe me I can take a gander...they got more than what they bargained for. What that means, is that your life is no longer going to be easy. I’m not talking about the pain and the familiars. I’m not even talking about demons coming after you. There are people who’d want exactly what you can do. That’s not to say you can’t live a normal life. You’d have to fight for that. What I am saying is that...your new normal isn’t going to be fun and games.”
The silence was heavy and she knew V was hanging on to her every word. He was an observer. He looked and listened, a lot more than most people. Griffon didn’t seem to be too thrilled with the thickness of the conversation, ruffling his feathers and trilling. He didn’t like her very much and she didn’t blame him. Lysander reputation went far into the Underworld. Just like Dante’s. Soon to be this kid. “My advice to you, V, is to learn what you got. You can harness demon energy, summon things from the Underworld, and make it your bitch. That’s not easy. Not everyone has that kind of willpower, that kind of spirit. You’re both a hazard and the most dangerous person I know. I know the Sparda brothers. They’re as dangerous as you and they’re older.”
V looked down at his hand, examining the tattoos that only barely went over his knuckles, “‘I am a series of small victories and large defeats, and I am as amazed as any other that I have gotten from there to here’.” Glancing up again he knew for sure that Alexina and himself wouldn’t continue to be so lucky to be left alone. He had read about Sparda, same as any other who was smart enough to learn history. Of course he had thrown himself headfirst into that world. “Is there anyone that can teach me? Reading will only get me so far. If I have this power, I might as well put it into practice.”
“Now we’re talking!” Griffon cackled.
Charlotte looked at Yvette, a slight head-tilt and a raised brow. There were plenty of people. They could do it, at the very least get him on the basics, a foundation. Dante and Vergil could do it as well. Demon hunters and half-demons as they were, they had been around the block. She wasn’t sure if she should lump Vergil there, honestly. Nero and Kyrie were another factor. They were part of the Order a long time ago.
Her lips pursed. They had options, but the question isn't quantity. It was quality. There was no one that’d teach him summoning, he would have to learn through trial and error. “If that’s what you want to do, then we’ll help you find someone that can,” Charlotte said after a moment. “Dante has a network of people, I’m sure there’s bound to be someone he can recommend to you to help. If not, I’ll take you.” She looked at V squarely. “If, of course, I’m up to your standards.” She glanced at Griffon. “I already know how you feel about me, chickie.”
“Oh, you son of a-” He was about to fly towards Charlotte but was stopped by V’s hand and he settled himself back down, shaking out his feathers in a miffed sort of fashion. Alexina’s lips were curved slightly, looking away from them as she hid her amusement.
“Then that is what I will take,” V nodded to Charlotte, “I appreciate you offering to take me under your wing.”
“If you’re interested in spellwork and seeing if you can turn your poems into spells, I’m totally down for helping you out there. Char does the hexes and the symbols and stuff, I’m the Latin person.” Yvette beamed proudly.
Now that did sound like an idea. It amused him that the one who seemed the brashest was the one who could speak the elegant language of Latin. “I will take that into consideration, thank you.”
Charlotte leaned back looking a little on the exhausted side all of the sudden. She could already tell that she was going to be in hell for the next few months since her sister offered Latin courses to a kid that probably could summon a demon with literally his wits alone. “You both will be the death of me. I saw my life flash before my eyes.”
Griffon cackled. “I’ll let Shortstack have that gold star, girlie.”
X
The following day, Charlotte decided that the best way to test out V was to throw him into the fire. She wasn’t literally going to toss him into a middle of a demon fight and see how he fared, that wasn’t the greatest idea. However, she was going to drag him to see how he fit in with the rest of the group and see if Nico was willing to fit him up with a weapon. A conduit or something. She doubted he could swing anything heavy. She leaned back in the driver’s seat, eyeing him from the corner. He was reading his book, but she could tell that not a single thing was not noticed.
She could already tell, this kid was the kid that teachers loathed in school. Not for his smarts, oh they’d praise that, but he’d get bored quick. He’d pick up a book and read, and not once miss a beat. “You know, your stubbornness is a treat.” She said after a moment.
“Oh?” V picked his head up and watched her curiously, “Stubborn natures are not usually praised. What sparked you to say something like that about me?”
“There’s stubborn as in stubborn idiots and then there’s stubborn as in smart. I’ve dealt with more stubborn idiots than smart ones. Believe me, you’re a breath of fresh air, V.” Charlotte smiled as she tilted her head towards him as she flipped her turn signal to turn a corner. “You watch. You listen. I bet there have been a few times where if you wanted to, you could’ve started a shit show or ended one.” She hummed under her breath. “Mind if I ask you something personal, V?”
“You may ask anything you like, but there is no guarantee I will answer,” V responded cryptically, turning his page and settling further into the seat of the car.
Charlotte grinned, seemingly pleased. “Fine, I’ll give you two questions.” Even though there was no guarantee he’d answer either of them, it still made her pleased that one of the questions he might choose over the other. “What’s your full name? I only know you as V and while that’s not a bad nickname, it’s a...very short one.”
“Indeed it is.” His lips quirked at that, not elaborating in the slightest. He gave his full name to few people. The applications for the few times he held a job and Alexina.
Charlotte’s smile widened and she let out a soft chuckle. She flipped on another turn signal. “Okay. That’s fair.” Laughter echoed in her words as her eyes crinkled with the emotion. “Your girlfriend’s hot. Nico even said it.”
V’s hand twitched on his book, and he felt his neck warm, but otherwise gave nothing away, “I half expected that to come from Yvette’s mouth, not your own. Xina is not my girlfriend, even if Griffon calls her Hathaway.”
“Familiars are jerks as in they give things away before you even get a chance to hide.” Charlotte glanced at her rearview mirror. “Vet’s a terrible influence sometimes, and admittedly talking girl last night got me all sorts of curious. Nico’s also no help in that either. Thought I’d ask first before one of them pounced on you...loudly. Believe me, you’d rather be trapped where you are than getting a massage from Yvette if she’s around.”
“I will keep that in mind.” V closed his book and set it on his lap, eyes on the area around them once he realized the surroundings were unfamiliar. “Tell me again, where we are going?”
“We’re getting you fitted,” Charlotte replied, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. “We’re tracking down Nico and her van. I don’t want her hauling through the streets like they’re made of clay. I’m thinking they’re back at Dante’s place. If Vergil’s the stubborn idiot type I think he is, he’s there as well and if he is...I get to get upset about the wound he’s undoubtedly making angry.” She glanced at V. “Pop quiz time, V. What does the name Abaddon mean to you?”
Racking his brain, V knew he’d heard that before. It didn’t take long for him to narrow it down, “Abaddon, one of the Christian Angels of Death. Also known to be a demon. Rules over a bottomless pit, an Abyss. A destroyer. Destruction.”
He did his research. Charlotte tapped her fingers on the steering wheel again. Which meant he decided which demon to summon when he did his little ritual. “Okay. Now tell me a bit about Stolas.”
“Often depicted as an owl with a crown, or a raven,” V didn’t take as long to answer that as an image came to mind, “Known for astronomy, poison plants, and their herbs as well as precious stones. Not much is really known about him besides that.”
Charlotte nodded a few times, “He’s a plant demon with a thirst of trouble and worse his plants don’t usually have antidotes. Not ones that you can find anywhere, anyway.” She nodded her head towards the back of her car. “I’ve studied plants, that’s my shtick besides drawing sigils and paper origami spells. If you meet up with a demon that can do plants, don’t. I don’t even know how Vergil’s still alive. Stubbornness and pride I guess. I can’t blame him, I’d do the same thing. I ain’t dying to a plant. I think that’s everyone’s thought. Still. Things are getting worse from here, and if you’re gonna get in the middle of these battles, I’d rather you know. I have some of the cures. If you’re handy with plants, I can teach you how to make some of them, just in case.”
“By ‘antidotes you can’t find anywhere’ do you mean ‘common antidotes’?” V arched a brow at her. It wasn’t often he found himself around someone who would ramble away about something. Xina only did that when she was passionate about her chosen topic. “Xina ribs me for it, but I tend to keep my room as dark as possible. Blackout curtains and the like. So I don’t usually keep plants alive.”
“I’ll give you some extras then. Bottles I mean.” Charlotte grimaced. “Words and I aren’t..uh...good with each other.” She smiled thinly. “I’m the one that graduated high school, too, let that sink. We’re here.”
Eyeballing the building V slowly got out of the car and took a good hard long look at it. Committing it to memory would be a good idea, as he felt he would be coming around here quite often in the future to come. Right in front of them was an arched roof over the porch, double doors that were certainly worn in. In fact, the whole building looked worn down as if they were in the slums of Redgrave city, but V knew they were only in one of the several residential areas. Attached to the roof was a clear neon sign with cursive letters loudly screaming "Devil May Cry" and a man at the end with a gun pointed towards the capital D, a full-body sword on his back. “Should I be concerned?” V couldn’t help asking.
“The only thing you gotta worry about, Shakespeare, is keeping your head on straight.” Griffon appeared on V’s shoulder, peering at the building. “Nothing in there’s gonna bite ya, and there’s no shame in running away. You can always run away if you have to.”
“Never thought I’d hear the day a demon told someone to run away and mean it kindly.” Charlotte mused as she came out from the rear seats, carrying a stick of metal. “Come on. Dante’s kind enough and Griffon’s right. No one’s in there looking at you for a fight. If anything, they’re gonna be curious about you as you are them.” She gently patted V’s back.
As soon as they walked through the doors, V heard the wooden floorboards creak beneath his sandaled feet, and when he looked up from being startled by it he was greeted by an interesting sight. Two red couches to his left underneath the stairway were filled with people, the desk straight ahead of him had a man with shocking silver-white hair sitting in it, and they were all watching a familiar short woman with a trash bag in hand muttering to herself as she busied around like a bumblebee.
Before he or Charlotte could say anything, a voice at the top of the stairs caused him to look up. “Why is Yvette cleaning your place by herself, Dante?” He looked like the man behind the desk with his hair too wet to form a shape, only he wore shades of blue instead of shades of red.
V was the one to answer him, “It seems to me she’s the type of person to not allow anyone in her way.”
Charlotte was impressed. Five seconds in the door and he already called out her sister. Then again, it was probably cheating since they already met yesterday. The other boy on the couch looked over at them, his silver hair much shorter and wearing a royal blue hoodie spoke up. “Who’s the MCR knock off?”
Nico, on the other hand, was already leaping to her feet and heading towards Charlotte. “Is that what I think you got in yer hands there, Lotty?”
Charlotte’s instant response was to hold it up over her head, despite that, both girls were the same height if Charlotte wasn’t a tiny bit taller. “Uh-huh. I got rules for this one, Nico. Nothing flashy, something practical, and can be used in a fight.”
“Seriously? Yer gonna make me go borin’ with that piece of equipment?” Nico folded her arms over her chest. “Do you know how awesome I can make that thing? It’d be a work of art.”
“It’s not for me. It’s a gift.” Charlotte bargained. “Triple your usual rate. Unless...this isn’t a challenge at all for you Nico.”
“Give me that.” Nico jumped up and snatched it out of Charlotte’s hands. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m actually holding this...who's it for?”
Charlotte merely tilted her head and Nico looked right over at V. Her eyes looked all over him for a moment and then noted, “You must be Lexi’s boy.”
Griffon cackled. “Looks like they all got you pegged, pretty boy.”
Dante even glanced up at the bird’s voice. He didn’t have to look over at the stairs to know that Vergil probably shifted uncomfortably. The familiar looked….well...familiar. He looked back at Charlotte. “I didn’t shove her into doing this. She-”
“I VOLUNTEERED AS TRIBUTE!” Yvette screamed towards Charlotte, “You should’ve seen this place, Char! Horrible! You would’ve cried!”
Charlotte did a whistle as she held three fingers solemnly towards her sister and turned to Dante. “Next time instead of sacrificing my sister to the Hunger Games, rent yourself a wife.”
“I volunteer for that, too.” Yvette chirped and Vergil scoffed up above.
Dante shrugged, a smirk playing at his lips. “I didn’t do anything. She’s the one that went Tohru Honda on me. I barely said a word, let alone told her to do anything. I offered to help, but V called it.”
“Oh my fucking god, nerds. The lot of you.” Charlotte deadpanned, her attention turned towards Vergil. “How did my handiwork come out?”
“After a certain point,” Vergil put the towel he’d been using to dry his hair around his neck, “My demon healing took over. My back isn’t completely healed over, but it will be by tomorrow.” He wasn’t about to say that avoiding itching it had been a nightmare.
Nero noticed that V was gluing himself to the corner of the room, watching them. Griffon was steady on his shoulder, beady golden eyes also surveying the room as they took in the different interactions. He had a book under his arm, but Nero wouldn’t be at all surprised to look back at him and see his nose stuck in it. Nico’s question also went avoided. Either she was wrong and he didn’t know who Lexi was, or this kid didn’t know why Nico knew.
Charlotte did tell them that they had met him and that she wanted to see everyone’s reactions to him. Nero didn’t feel anything towards him, but that demon on his shoulder certainly gave him pause. He didn’t miss the look Dante made as he glanced over it. Carefully Nero stood up. He didn’t know why, but V reminded him of one of the shy orphans he sometimes ran into when Kyrie was working.
They were the ones that saw more than people wanted to admit. More ghosts in their closets and skeletons. The way V was watching him approach was much like how someone would watch a predator walk up to them. Assessing every move and every word before speaking. Like there was a game behind it. Nero didn’t do well with those kinds of games. All they told him was that the kid got hurt.
It sucked that this goth kid also looked like he was in a world of hurt. He noticed the necklace instantly. Same one the girl wore. The tattoos that were swirling in complicated and ornate designs were a little faded. Mostly around his arm that Griffon was perched on.
“Seeing something you like?” Griffon taunted Nero.
Nero instantly was reminded how he greeted his father and he tilted his head at the bird. “A talking bird.” He pretended to be impressed. “That’s a hell of a party trick you got there. I’m Nero. Who are you?”
“If you would like to see a party trick, I can certainly provide. You may call me V.” His olive green eyes crinkled a bit at the corners as a smirk tried to worm its way onto his face.
“V, huh?” Nero clicked his tongue. Playing the mystery route. He supposed he couldn’t blame the kid. Well, he was probably older than him. “This isn’t your only one?” He rapped his fingers towards Griffon.
“Ooh, someone wants to play.” Griffon trilled. “Don’t think you can handle us, little bug.”
Nero raised an eyebrow, “Was that the best you could come up with, Chicken?”
Charlotte made a soft noise in the background.
“First Charlotte wove her web and now you wish to irritate Griffon,” V was amused, and he forced himself to tear away from staring at Nero’s lovely blue eyes to address Dante, “I assume demons are a common sight around here?”
“I don’t think Lotty’s gonna win you any spelling bees. Also, you’re talkin’ to a quarter.” Nero pointed at Nico. “The only thing that’s demonic about her is her weapons.”
“Ain’t that the gospel truth,” Nico called from over her shoulder as she was heading back to her van. “I got a commission, so you boys have fun. Tell Lexi I said hi, V. She’s something fierce.”
“Shut up, Nico!” Nero rolled his eyes. “Honestly. It’s like she doesn’t get it.”
Dante watched the exchange with a furrowed brow and he leaned back. “The only thing that’s not so common to see is you, V, but Nero’s on track. I’m a half-demon. So is tall and brooding up there on the stairs. Everyone else around you is human. Well. As human as they get.”
“I was referring to more...unusual sights,” he glanced at Griffon but continued his smirk at Nero and patted his shoulder as he went by, “Outside.” He didn’t say anything else, going back for the door. He had been itching for a safe place to release his third, and if Nero wished for a party trick, then this was the perfect opportunity.
Silence. Nero was the first to shrug it off and head outside. Charlotte also decided to go, mostly out of curiosity and to see what this “party trick” was going to consist of. She was pretty sure her sister and Dante weren’t far off. Nico wouldn’t give a damn unless she saw it from her van. Vergil was also up in the air, but she could presume he followed if to confirm whatever suspicions he had.
Plenty of space was a wonderful start. V also wasn’t too concerned that it was daylight, as it meant people were more than likely at work and wouldn’t stare out their windows at the ruckus. It wouldn’t be for long, either, he had nothing for it to attack, but he could not deny he was eager. In all reality, this would be the first time he saw Nightmare the same as everyone else. Griffon had only told him of it.
Turning around, V decided to start off the show with shrugging Griffon off his shoulder and then flourished his arm out towards the group, his tattoos breaking off in particles and swirling before Shadow roared and pounced on the ground, shaking herself off from being cooped up.
“That’s two,” Charlotte muttered under her breath.
Nero had a feeling there was more to this. Like there was tension that started to crackle in the air. Anticipation made his blood roar in his ears like he was getting ready for a fight, even though there wasn’t one to be had. “Come on.” He grinned ferally. “That cat’s not everything you got.” He called out towards V. “Don’t hold back on us. This party’s just getting started.”
Something in Nero’s grin made V feel lively, and the smirk turned into a genuine smile. As he raised his arm slowly above his head he spoke, “‘He who kisses the joy as it flies, lives in eternity's sunrise’.” A snap. An explosion of black particles. The cool rush through V’s body that replaced the near-constant prickling made V close his eyes in blissful relief.
Nero wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but there were two surprises. One: V’s hair was suddenly stark white. It almost made Nero take a step back in surprise. A quarter demon like himself? Yet, he made a deal with a demon so...that wasn’t possible. The second thing was how large this familiar was. Stocky, like it was made of nothing but stone, but it’s body pulsed and swirled with dark energy and matter. As though it was created from it. A large purple eye was glowing in the middle of where the head should’ve gone. It was deep inside of the shoulder and it barely made any noise. Nero could…get this feeling this creature was confused. Who did it attack?
“Goddamn.” Nero whistled. “You certainly weren’t kidding when you said that you can do tricks.”
Charlotte pursed her lips together. Three. Everything came in three. “This kid.” She muttered fondly. “Is going to be the death of someone, I swear.”
V was absolutely in awe of the massive creature in front of him when he turned to look at it. He felt it’s confusion and he subconsciously hushed it, reaching out and laying his hand on what looked like a rocky arm. Coarse. Warm. He was fascinated and glanced up, examining the purple eye. Having Nightmare out was such a rush but he smiled ruefully, knowing it couldn’t last. Patting it, he allowed it to return since it had nothing to do. “That…” he released a long breath and turned back towards Nero, “Was Nightmare.” He motioned to the panther with glowing red designs on her fur, “Shadow.”
“It looked like one.” Nero quipped as Shadow paced herself in front of V before weaving around his legs. Nero could tell that the familiars were attached. Extremely attached. He didn’t doubt that if any of them made a move against V, they’d be in a world of hurt. Especially after Nightmare’s little show and tell. “You look like you’re halfway between passing out and in pain.”
“My, you are quite astute,” V placed his hand over his chest, taking a deep breath as the prickling pain was settling down. It wasn’t nearly so bad with Shadow out, and really he was grateful Alexina enjoyed his panther familiar so she could be out more often. “I am more...dizzy from relief. It has been nearly four months and Nightmare has never been out.”
Nero frowned. There was a question on the tip of his tongue, but he had a feeling asking it would only lead him in circles. “Let’s go back inside, and you can stop hogging the corner. Just in case someone else wants to pretend that it’s the corner of invisibility. You only make me feel bad.”
“You joke like your Uncle,” Vergil sighed, making his presence known.
“It means he has a good sense of humor. Don’t knock it because you don’t,” Dante teased.
V watched as Yvette, who was holding the door open, giggled madly at the exchange. Shaking his head, he stroked the top of Shadow’s head and followed everyone back inside. Though he did pause and look at Charlotte, “What are your thoughts now?”
“My thoughts are that you are a fucking terrifying person,” Charlotte said bluntly. “And how you haven’t been a target lately changed. Someone’s bound to feel that, and take it as a challenge.”
“Well now. That’s good. Business was getting slow, thought the demons finally got bored.” Dante swung his arms back and forth. “Prepare for the worst like the Abaddon fellow. And that Stolas. You and I got a score to settle with him later.”
Charlotte wasn’t sure if rolling her eyes would mean anything, but she did so anyway.
“That is another reason why Charlotte brought me here.” V explained once they were all inside and heading for the couches, “My familiars can protect Xina and I, but I have no training.”
It hit close to home. Nero felt like the world suddenly was showing him a mirror. He thought of Kyrie back at the orphanage that she was working at. They were far enough that any demon could take her at any moment. She took self-defense because Credo and Nero couldn’t stand the thought of her getting hurt, but anyone could be taken off guard. It only took one. One second. One moment.
Nero already knew that if his Uncle or his father didn’t, he would. “Fuck.” Nero hissed after a moment, throwing himself down to the couch, crossing his legs in midair. “I’m doing it.”
“Whoa-oh. Hotshot thinks he can teach us new tricks, huh?” Griffon leered. “What makes you our number one pick of the week?”
V held his hand to Griffon, watching Nero intently.
There were millions of reasons that Nero obviously shouldn’t take him on. Life experience, not a witch, had no idea how to do anything with familiars, weapon variety, fighting styles, there were plenty of reasons not to. Instead, Nero looked at V square in the eye. At the same time, there were reasons to help.
Nero eyed Griffon and instead of addressing V, addressed the bird. “Number one pick of the year.” He pointed out before turning his attention to V. “Because of anyone in this fucking place knows anything about what you’re going through. It’s me and my father, and my father’s injured and while he can recover in a day, I’m sitting right here. I don’t got a lot under my belt, that’s true, but I got enough to get you back to Lex safe. I got enough to help you protect her because I know that if one drop of blood leaves her, you’re guilt-ridden for a month.”
An inhale and V gingerly touched the tooth necklace. He had made a guess, but that confirmed it. “‘The people who consider you weak have not yet noticed the wolf hiding behind your eyes, nor the flames inside your soul’.” The poem fell from him without any trouble at all, “I accept your offer, Nero. We should perhaps talk next about places to train. Keeping my energy flares as far away from her as possible would be ideal. You understand.”
“Yeah.” Nero did understand. He turned towards Dante who was watching them with a complicated expression. He didn’t bother to question it. “You good with us using your back yard ol’ man?”
Dante rolled his eyes, “Sure thing, whippersnapper.”
Yvette cracked up in the background.
Nero paled, he forgot that Dante wasn’t one to lay down and take it, “No wait-”
“You kids can be on my lawn if you need to,” he continued, as though Nero didn’t say a word.
“Oh my god-” Nero wanted to fucking die.
“I’ll toss a newspaper at you every once a while,” Dante’s grin was feral as Nero looked completely done with this conversation, “Vergil do you remember back in the good ol’ day-”
“OH MY FUCKING GOD PLEASE!” Nero threw a pillow at Dante and wasn’t at all surprised that it was caught. “I get the MESSAGE!”
Vergil pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to Yvette wheezing, her cleaning tirade completely halted as she stopped to laugh to death, “At least someone enjoys your jokes.”
Charlotte pursed her lips together, “I vaguely find myself in between horror and amusement because I suddenly can feel my age.”
“You are not-” Nero rounded onto Charlotte. “Following his line.”
“Oh please, I have enough confidence in myself to not embarrass you to death.” Nero looked relieved for five seconds. “I’ll do that to you on the battlefield.”
Yvette pointed at Charlotte from her position leaning on the wall, “She will roast people on the field!”
Griffon trilled, “Not unless I shock them first, shortstack.”
V shook his head, “Not that sort of roasting. I understand the reference.” He chuckled when Yvette chirped a ‘yay’.
“Nerds.” Charlotte deadpanned. “Violent nerds. All of you. I thought you people were supposed to be sweet. Goddamn.”
“You went to the wrong school,” Nero retorted.
“I must have. Fuck me.”
“Well, we got that all straightened out and taken care of.” Dante looked pleased. “If you need any help Nero, we got you covered.” He turned towards Charlotte. “You keeping an eye out?”
“So far nothing.” Charlotte shrugged. “Either they’re cowards, or this is gonna bring them out of hiding.”
“Then we’ll see you sometime later.” Dante turned to V. “You know that’s a good question. How are you going to sneak out on your girl anyway? It’s rude to leave her hanging.”
“There is no sneaking involved. Xina was the one who suggested I take their advice in the first place. Their advice was training. So here I am.” V leaned back, getting more comfortable.
“She has a good head on her shoulders.” Nero looked at V. “I’m glad to know you two aren’t the types to not tell each other shit. I can already tell you how bad that can go down.”
“Yeah yeah, dramatic effect, near death love confessions. Not that won’t happen an-” Griffon was cut off.
Yvette was quite surprised when V was not the one to silence his familiar, but it was Vergil standing abruptly that caught everyone’s attention.
“Secrets between lovers leads to death.” The hiss was cutting and the words dripped acid, but if they were aimed at anyone it was himself. Vergil turned on his heel and his strides were long and swift towards the door, snatching his coat from the hooks, “I am going out.” Was his only explanation before the door clicked shut behind him.
The silence was uncomfortable, but no one had the heart to refute it. Not even Griffon for all the wise-cracks that he made. Charlotte stared at the door, her expression complicated. Only for a moment before she finally decided to also leave. Either to follow him or to get away from the silence was beyond them.
Shadow, on the other hand, seemed to have an idea. She leaped on the couch and draped herself over Nero’s legs, stretching herself as long as she possibly could before melting against his lap.
“I didn’t realize I was destined to be a demon pillow,” Nero said dryly but gingerly ran his hand through her fur. It was...shocking at how soft the fur was and the energy that crackled underneath her. It wasn’t painful, not at all, but it most definitely reminded him that she was more than a panther. “Good girl.” He muttered under his breath as she purred louder. “I think I’m stuck.” He admitted.
Dante huffed a laugh before walking out of the room. “Need me to haul those out for you, Yeti?” He asked, pointing at the trash bags she had collected.
“Don’t call me that,” Yvette muttered even as a smile played at her lips and she tied off the one in her hands, all of the trash picked up by now, “Sure, you can show me where the bins are.”
V listened as the two made their way to do their own thing, and he crossed his ankles in front of him as he arched a brow at Nero with Shadow. They were left alone now. “She likes you.” He decided to start off.
“Never thought of myself as a cat person. Dog person sure, but cats? Never really had a chance to go up against one.” Nero said as he rubbed Shadow’s ears and she headbutted his hand to get him to rub more. “She’s a lovebug, isn’t she? All that affection. It’s like you and Lex don’t spoil her, and I know better than that.”
“I’ve heard plenty of people say they don’t like cats because they are evil or something of the sort,” V waved his hand dismissively, “I prefer cats over dogs myself. Our apartment doesn’t allow pets, but since this is...awfully convenient,” he traced over his own tattoos, a mischievous little smile on his face this time, “Xina has been extremely pleased she gets to have Shadow who’s the size of a dog but a giant ball of love.”
“What am I, chopped liver?” Griffon pouted. “You make it sound like Hathaway holds no love for me V. Rude. I get the feather scratches.”
At that, V actually laughed and he reached his hand up, scratching under Griffon’s chin, “Indeed you do.”
Nero’s lips curved into a smirk. “Lex has a soft spot for animals and she adores you because you can talk.”
“That is not my only shtick hotshot.” Griffon stuck his neck out further for V to scratch. “I am an extremely good wingman too. They’re stubborn.”
Chuckling again, V continued to scratch Griffon absently and looked to Nero’s demonic arm. He hadn’t a chance to really take it in, “If you use your claws I’m sure Shadow will adore you.”
“You mean my nails or…” Nero trailed off as he looked at his demon arm. It had been a while since he had a stranger look at it. Kyrie hadn’t minded, which had been a fucking surprise to him. For V to point it out, he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He switched hands but was careful for it, just in case Shadow didn’t like it. As he gently used his nails to scratch Shadow, he was pleasantly surprised when he saw a tiny hint of tongue stick out. Well now. There was a pause. “Pretty terrifying looking isn’t it.”
“Your arm? I don’t think so at all.” V shook his head, resting his hands in his lap and watching Nero with interest, “Though I will say I am confused why you have that and neither Dante nor Vergil do. Is it because you are a quarter?”
“I think so.” Nero shrugged. “My theory is that both Dante and pops can do a Devil Trigger and go full demon. Since I’m a quarter, I don’t think I have that ability and this is kinda...you know...the only reminder I got that says ‘yeah you got demon blood in you’.” He shifted his weight carefully underneath Shadow. The familiar was pretty freaking heavy, but he wasn’t about to push the cat aside yet. “It happened when I got injured a long time ago. It’s...it’s a hard story. That’s why I get it when you said you wanted to protect Lex. I couldn’t protect Kyrie. Almost lost her. It took a long time to get over it, we still wake each other up sometimes with nightmares about it, but...the orphanage keeps us busy...and demon hunting most definitely keeps me busy. Yet the reminders are still there. She used to sing for the Order. One of the best singers. You’d get along with her famously I think.”
“I would enjoy meeting her.” V nodded. He said her name with honey-sweet affection and it warmed his heart. “Xina isn’t my girlfriend, but maybe someday. That’s a secret you get to know. My name is also Vitale.” He ignored Griffon’s squawk and how Shadow twitched her ear. “I don’t tell many people that.”
“Yeah, Lex was pretty secretive about your identity as well. Pulled out all the stops to make sure she didn’t even say V.” Nero watched him for a moment. “She said to me that she was sick when you made the deal.” He paused in scratching Shadow’s fur. “Was she really near death or was that you jumping to conclusions?”
V licked his lips and took a deep breath, “I prayed to the Gods first, for a miracle. I knew if I made a deal with the devil it had to be because there was no other way. So that is what I did. The night I made the decision...she wouldn’t have made it to see her favorite thing. The sunrise.”
Nero let out a slow long breath. Griffon was even oddly quiet about it. Solemn. “You’re an interesting guy, V.”
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