Oleander
A DMC Fanfic
Authoress: Illicit Memory
DSOCVS
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I deleted Body and Soul – I couldn't think of where I was going next. Three chapters in, and I had already created such an exorbitant Mary-Sue that I disgusted myself. Selae's not supposed to be a Mary-Sue: but since I never told anyone but my roleplaying buddies her origins, her position immediately was as one. So this will be her introduction, and maybe I'll rewrite Body and Soul one day.
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Chapter 1: Dante (Awakening)
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"Dante! Run, Dante! Run!" His mother's voice, calling out to him. Her hand, outstretched for an infinite moment – then the blood that splashed into the air. Her hand fell, her body falling with it.
He and Vergil hid underneath boxes nearby – but they saw everything. They saw the demons that had killed the only person they had. The only protector they would ever know. The only link to a father who no longer existed. But what he remembered the most was the blood.
It was everywhere. In her hair the blond was red, so red, so red, it was on her clothes they stuck to her as a second skin he could smell the blood it was horrible horrible this wasn't his mother it couldn't be his mother his mother was alive, she was alive, she was warm this was cold so cold he couldn't take it he couldn't it wasn't no this was-
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"Ah!" With the faintest cry of surprise, Dante Sparda awoke. Sitting up, he ran a hand through the mess of white hair that fell in his face. "Damn." With narrowed eyes, he took in the state of his body – sweat glistened on his bare chest, and the blanket someone (Enzo, probably) had thrown over him was balled around his feet: apparently he had been tossing and turning during his nightmare. Fuck.
With a groan that was a mixture of a hangover and a lack of sleep, he stood – rubbing a hand quickly across his eyes. What the hell was that? I haven't dreamt about Mom since I was a fucking kid. Exactly. When he was being shuffled through orphanage after orphanage – foster home upon foster home: he had the same nightmare until he turned sixteen and ran away.
It's return stirred up some unwelcome memories – for instance, his twin: who for all he knew was dead right now. The twin who hated him – because Eva's last words had been calling to Dante, though both of the children had been in her sight. Through the four years of foster hell, he hadn't seen his brother once – and whenever he tried to get word to him, his letters came back unopened.
Another sound of disgust escaped the coral lips of the demon-hunter, and he turned – heading towards the back so he could take a shower.
Suddenly, the doors slammed open – revealing the pitch black darkness of the outside world: it was either late at night, or early in the morning.
"Hey, Dante! What'd shoo fall asleeeeeep fer?" Poor Enzo. Actually, Dante rather thought the other man was adorable the way he slurred his words like a small child when he was this horribly drunk. But of course, he'd never admit it – even though he thought he might have once, when he was drunk himself: the word 'cute' may have even come into play.
"Because I'm not the one who sat on my ass all day – if you remember, I had a job to do. I'm the one paying for the booze and the babes, remember?" A small grin graced the half-demon's lips.
"Ohhh." The chubby Italian man looked angelically quizzical for a moment, before shrugging and tottering forward to fall onto the couch Dante had just vacated. Almost immediately, loud snores erupted from his drooling mouth.
"…" Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Dante simply turned and entered the room he was heading for – the bathroom. Moving the door open with a nudge of his hip, he stretched and moved towards the shower, which he turned on to the hottest setting available. With slow movements, her unbuttoned his pants, and slid them off – his underwear following soon after. Seeing as that is all he was wearing, he pulled the shower curtain to the side and entered, letting the heat instantly diffuse his body's tension.
Why now? Why would that dream come back now – of all times?
Is it being triggered by the demons? Indeed, there had been a huge rise in the number of demons appearing lately. He had been coming home night after night tired and bloody from the sheer number of them – though most of them were weak. And there had been more human casualties too: though most people blamed it on animal attacks, Dante and Enzo knew better.
"Damn it." Repeating a phrase he had used earlier, he rinsed out his hair and off his body – he had washed as his thoughts ran away with him. Turning off the water, he stepped out of the shower, drying off quickly with a white towel that hung near him. Looking into the foggy mirror, he sighed. Pulling on his boxers and pants, he exited the bathroom – heading into the living room/office area he had previously been in. Enzo remained on the couch, snoring more softly now.
Tossing a blanket over the other man quickly, Dante then grabbed his coat – throwing it on over his bare chest. I'll be damned if I'm going to sit here and bother myself with that shit all day. I'm gonna go party. Smirking to himself, he exited the front doors of the office, locking them behind him. Then he headed off down the street towards his favorite local establishment – Love Planet. Nothing got rid of bad dreams better than gyrating female bodies and loads of alcohol. Atleast, not for him, anyways.
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