Pilgrimage (Dante/Vergil)
Jul. 2nd, 2007 11:14 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kinkfestTitle: Pilgrimage
Author: dmcladyinred
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,326
Summary: Dante wanted Vergil back. He was willing to go to the depths of Hell and sell his services to do so.
A/N: Work in progress, I was getting to Vergil, honest. It's hard to finish something when you have to run to the bathroom every five minutes.
Prompt: 13. Devil May Cry, Vergil/Dante: Obsession - "You make this all go away"
Pilgrimage
By
Dmcladyinred
Due date: July 2, 2007
Prompt: 13. Devil May Cry, Vergil/Dante: Obsession - "You make this all go away"
Tag line:
Dante Sparda hated to admit it, but his arms and legs hurt. Still, he kept lifting one foot and putting it down in front of the other. He had long since abandoned the bike he had ridden from Vie du Marli into Hell. It wouldn’t take him down some of the narrow, winding trails that lead to the less traveled sections of the underworld.
By this time, Dante had an intimate familiarity will Hell. At eight he had decided to avenge the murder of his mother and his older twin brother, Vergil, at the hands of demons. At about sixteen or seventeen, he began to take steps to put his vengeance into place. At eighteen he had learned Vergil still lived. His brother came to him wanting help to achieve demonic power and rule both the worlds of Light and Dark. Shocked, Dante had refused and pursued his own course, opening his devil hunting shop, Devil May Cry, at nineteen.
That year Vergil had raised the tower of Temen-ni-gru, and Dante had begun the long, grueling odyssey that had led him to the ends of the Earth and beyond. Metropolis, Mallet Island, Fortuna Island, Vie du Marli; the names tolled through his head like funeral bells. A falling star he had plummeted through time burning out his heart until almost no feelings lived within him. An unyielding frozen shell enclosed the embers that remained. He had learned there were more roads to Hell than there were paths to Heaven, and more devils, both human and supernatural, than cockroaches in a cheap diner’s garbage can. He should know. He’d seen every damned one of them.
Exhaustion plagued him. No safe spot to rest existed in this place. He didn’t like to sleep much anyway. Lady, Trish, Lucia, even Vergil, for god’s sake, haunted his dreams, teasing him, seducing him, writhing with him so they twined together in erotic abandonment. He would awake, his cock rigid and hurting so much he had to take himself in hand and spill his seed all over the stony, fruitless ground.
He found little to eat or drink as well. Sometimes the shades and demons who wandered here took pity on him and offered him sustenance, but he trusted nothing and no one and refused them all. Hard hunger had ceased to gnaw at his belly, and he used the old bushman’s trick of putting a pebble in his mouth to stave off thirst.
In one of his few dreams that didn’t involve hot sex, Old Matier came to him and forced a clear liquid down him. It had tasted crisp and clean with a kick to it that reminded him of Swedish aqua vitae. Whatever it was, it had refreshed and sustained him, giving him the strength to carry on with his search a while longer.
Dante stumbled. He went to his knees, but managed to force himself back to his feet. Ten excruciating steps later the ground rushed up to meet him, and this time he could not get back up. Refusing to quit, he crawled forward until a pair of black low-heeled pumps swam before his vision. His gaze traveled up a pair of excellent feminine legs to the superior, curvaceous body encased in a severe black woman’s suit. It continued up to the face half shrouded by a lace veil suspended from a black pill box straight out of the 1960s. The woman’s full, sensuous red lips, her only feature left unconcealed by the veil, curved in amused, knowing smile.
“Nice gams,” Dante muttered. The woman might be a devil, but he could still appreciate the package.
Her laughter rang around him, sweet but with an under note of cold cruelty. “Stubborn, observant and impudent. My Master has need of the services of someone like you.”
“Master. Christ, you sound like Trish.”
The woman winced a little. “That name is not one often spoken around these parts.”
“God,” he moaned, “now we’re doing vintage Westerns. Where does Hell get you people? Central casting?”
The woman in the inky suit leaned over him. She brushed her icy fingers across his cheek, and the world grayed out and began to fade to black. “Be sure and ask that question of my Master when you meet him.”
Dante came to, reclining on an honest-to-god chaise longue in a room that looked like something out of Victorian mansion. The sardonic black goat’s head with its spreading horns mounted over the mantelpiece gave him the creeps. The woman in black stood next to a wheelchair with an old man dozing in it. White hair fell to the man’s shoulders. He wore a light tan suit, and even though he appeared to be asleep, he clutched a cane that continued the goat’s head motif in his gnarled hands.
“Swell décor,” he said to the woman. “Early Addams Family. I really must get the name of your interior designer.”
“Ah, Master. He is awake at last.” The woman nudged the old man gently with one black-gloved hand.
The old man opened eyes the pale gray color of frigid winter skies. Dante’s soul reeled. This man was no common demon. He was a ruling member of the hierarchy of Hell, so high and so powerful he made Mundus look like some puffed-up, petty prince.
“We have been watching your journey, Son of Sparda.” The woman turned the old man’s wheelchair a little so he faced Dante. “You seek something within our halls. You need search no longer. We can provide to you the thing your heart so ardently desires.”
Wary, Dante said, “You’re very sure of yourselves. Just how do you know what I’m looking for.”
The woman laughed that cutting laugh and said, “We don’t just watch your movements, Dante. We watch your thoughts and dreams, as well. You wish to resurrect the dead. You search for Hell’s Maze.”
“Stay the fuck out of my head,” he growled. “I don’t care how almighty you think you are. I took out Mundus, and I can take out you.”
“Such bravado! His fury is just the fire you need to fuel your plan, my Master.” The old man nodded to her. He beckoned, and she leaned forward so he could whisper something into her ear. The woman straightened. “My Master would ask a question of you. Will you answer?”
“That depends. If he wants my phone number he can’t have it. I don’t go out with older men. Can’t he speak for himself? I’m not impressed with a guy who hides behind a woman’s skirts.”
The woman smiled her calm, mysterious smile. “My Master has the wisdom that comes to a man of his years. He is quite able to speak; he merely prefers to conserve his strength for when he truly needs it. Will you hear his question, or not?”
Dante bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Sure. Why not? It’s only a dead certainty I’m going to regret this. Fire away, old man.”
“Your father was the demon warrior Sparda. Your mother was a human woman….”
“Eva,” Dante interrupted, “her name was Eva.”
The woman inclined her head in a gracious nod. “Your mother was the human woman Eva. You carry the blood of two worlds. Which are you? Human or demon?”
Floored, Dante gave a wild laugh. He recalled the words he had spoken to Cerberus years ago. “I’m not even sure myself.”
“See, Master. He walks the path between both worlds. Just like your other boy.”
“I haven’t been a boy in a damned long time.”
“Forgive my manners.” The woman didn’t sound contrite. “To my Master, your years are as but a grain of sand.”
“Yeah, well, your Master has got a lot of sand, no question about that. Cut to the chase, babe. Just what the devil do you and the old geezer want?”
“My Master would hire you to do what you do best. Kill demons.”
Dante laughed again.
~Incomplete, Sorry.~
Author: dmcladyinred
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,326
Summary: Dante wanted Vergil back. He was willing to go to the depths of Hell and sell his services to do so.
A/N: Work in progress, I was getting to Vergil, honest. It's hard to finish something when you have to run to the bathroom every five minutes.
Prompt: 13. Devil May Cry, Vergil/Dante: Obsession - "You make this all go away"
Pilgrimage
By
Dmcladyinred
Due date: July 2, 2007
Prompt: 13. Devil May Cry, Vergil/Dante: Obsession - "You make this all go away"
Tag line:
Dante Sparda hated to admit it, but his arms and legs hurt. Still, he kept lifting one foot and putting it down in front of the other. He had long since abandoned the bike he had ridden from Vie du Marli into Hell. It wouldn’t take him down some of the narrow, winding trails that lead to the less traveled sections of the underworld.
By this time, Dante had an intimate familiarity will Hell. At eight he had decided to avenge the murder of his mother and his older twin brother, Vergil, at the hands of demons. At about sixteen or seventeen, he began to take steps to put his vengeance into place. At eighteen he had learned Vergil still lived. His brother came to him wanting help to achieve demonic power and rule both the worlds of Light and Dark. Shocked, Dante had refused and pursued his own course, opening his devil hunting shop, Devil May Cry, at nineteen.
That year Vergil had raised the tower of Temen-ni-gru, and Dante had begun the long, grueling odyssey that had led him to the ends of the Earth and beyond. Metropolis, Mallet Island, Fortuna Island, Vie du Marli; the names tolled through his head like funeral bells. A falling star he had plummeted through time burning out his heart until almost no feelings lived within him. An unyielding frozen shell enclosed the embers that remained. He had learned there were more roads to Hell than there were paths to Heaven, and more devils, both human and supernatural, than cockroaches in a cheap diner’s garbage can. He should know. He’d seen every damned one of them.
Exhaustion plagued him. No safe spot to rest existed in this place. He didn’t like to sleep much anyway. Lady, Trish, Lucia, even Vergil, for god’s sake, haunted his dreams, teasing him, seducing him, writhing with him so they twined together in erotic abandonment. He would awake, his cock rigid and hurting so much he had to take himself in hand and spill his seed all over the stony, fruitless ground.
He found little to eat or drink as well. Sometimes the shades and demons who wandered here took pity on him and offered him sustenance, but he trusted nothing and no one and refused them all. Hard hunger had ceased to gnaw at his belly, and he used the old bushman’s trick of putting a pebble in his mouth to stave off thirst.
In one of his few dreams that didn’t involve hot sex, Old Matier came to him and forced a clear liquid down him. It had tasted crisp and clean with a kick to it that reminded him of Swedish aqua vitae. Whatever it was, it had refreshed and sustained him, giving him the strength to carry on with his search a while longer.
Dante stumbled. He went to his knees, but managed to force himself back to his feet. Ten excruciating steps later the ground rushed up to meet him, and this time he could not get back up. Refusing to quit, he crawled forward until a pair of black low-heeled pumps swam before his vision. His gaze traveled up a pair of excellent feminine legs to the superior, curvaceous body encased in a severe black woman’s suit. It continued up to the face half shrouded by a lace veil suspended from a black pill box straight out of the 1960s. The woman’s full, sensuous red lips, her only feature left unconcealed by the veil, curved in amused, knowing smile.
“Nice gams,” Dante muttered. The woman might be a devil, but he could still appreciate the package.
Her laughter rang around him, sweet but with an under note of cold cruelty. “Stubborn, observant and impudent. My Master has need of the services of someone like you.”
“Master. Christ, you sound like Trish.”
The woman winced a little. “That name is not one often spoken around these parts.”
“God,” he moaned, “now we’re doing vintage Westerns. Where does Hell get you people? Central casting?”
The woman in the inky suit leaned over him. She brushed her icy fingers across his cheek, and the world grayed out and began to fade to black. “Be sure and ask that question of my Master when you meet him.”
Dante came to, reclining on an honest-to-god chaise longue in a room that looked like something out of Victorian mansion. The sardonic black goat’s head with its spreading horns mounted over the mantelpiece gave him the creeps. The woman in black stood next to a wheelchair with an old man dozing in it. White hair fell to the man’s shoulders. He wore a light tan suit, and even though he appeared to be asleep, he clutched a cane that continued the goat’s head motif in his gnarled hands.
“Swell décor,” he said to the woman. “Early Addams Family. I really must get the name of your interior designer.”
“Ah, Master. He is awake at last.” The woman nudged the old man gently with one black-gloved hand.
The old man opened eyes the pale gray color of frigid winter skies. Dante’s soul reeled. This man was no common demon. He was a ruling member of the hierarchy of Hell, so high and so powerful he made Mundus look like some puffed-up, petty prince.
“We have been watching your journey, Son of Sparda.” The woman turned the old man’s wheelchair a little so he faced Dante. “You seek something within our halls. You need search no longer. We can provide to you the thing your heart so ardently desires.”
Wary, Dante said, “You’re very sure of yourselves. Just how do you know what I’m looking for.”
The woman laughed that cutting laugh and said, “We don’t just watch your movements, Dante. We watch your thoughts and dreams, as well. You wish to resurrect the dead. You search for Hell’s Maze.”
“Stay the fuck out of my head,” he growled. “I don’t care how almighty you think you are. I took out Mundus, and I can take out you.”
“Such bravado! His fury is just the fire you need to fuel your plan, my Master.” The old man nodded to her. He beckoned, and she leaned forward so he could whisper something into her ear. The woman straightened. “My Master would ask a question of you. Will you answer?”
“That depends. If he wants my phone number he can’t have it. I don’t go out with older men. Can’t he speak for himself? I’m not impressed with a guy who hides behind a woman’s skirts.”
The woman smiled her calm, mysterious smile. “My Master has the wisdom that comes to a man of his years. He is quite able to speak; he merely prefers to conserve his strength for when he truly needs it. Will you hear his question, or not?”
Dante bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Sure. Why not? It’s only a dead certainty I’m going to regret this. Fire away, old man.”
“Your father was the demon warrior Sparda. Your mother was a human woman….”
“Eva,” Dante interrupted, “her name was Eva.”
The woman inclined her head in a gracious nod. “Your mother was the human woman Eva. You carry the blood of two worlds. Which are you? Human or demon?”
Floored, Dante gave a wild laugh. He recalled the words he had spoken to Cerberus years ago. “I’m not even sure myself.”
“See, Master. He walks the path between both worlds. Just like your other boy.”
“I haven’t been a boy in a damned long time.”
“Forgive my manners.” The woman didn’t sound contrite. “To my Master, your years are as but a grain of sand.”
“Yeah, well, your Master has got a lot of sand, no question about that. Cut to the chase, babe. Just what the devil do you and the old geezer want?”
“My Master would hire you to do what you do best. Kill demons.”
Dante laughed again.
~Incomplete, Sorry.~
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-07-03 08:22 am (UTC)Are we going to get to see the rest of this? Because it's starting so well, and omg, NOCTURNE BACKSTORY, something I'd always cheer for :D.
Also;
He found little to eat or drink as well. Sometimes the shades and demons who wandered here took pity on him and offered him sustenance, but he trusted nothing and no one and refused them all. Hard hunger had ceased to gnaw at his belly, and he used the old bushman’s trick of putting a pebble in his mouth to stave off thirst. <- I love every last detail of this bit. As much as I ought to be fangirly over the smutty dreams, this bit's my favourite because I *love* character details like this, and it's so clever and fabulous, I adore it :D.
Thanks for what we've got so far anyway ^^
no subject
Date: 2007-07-05 10:10 am (UTC)