It was a dry month in Sredne Kolymsk. Dry in the sense that there was a
lack of excitement, a lack of action and interest. Dante had once said that
there was never a dull moment, until now. Every morning he would walk
downstairs, prop his feet up on the front desk and wait for the phone to
ring. He would sit facing the fire, a deep look of contemplation drowning
his face, tinted with a bit of despondency. Every evening, he would walk to
Trish's grave and stand there with his hands in his coat pockets, staring
down at the frozen gravestone. It was evident he had a difficult time
coping with the loss which he proclaimed to be temporary, but he also had a
difficult time adjusting to the change in his lifestyle-physically and bio-
chemically.
Only days after Trish had been layed to rest, Dante's physical condition became very poor. At first, it was assumed that his excessive drinking and occasional smoking was robbing him of his vitality, but even so, a cigarette or a bit of alcohol poisoning could not affect him as swiftly as this. Dante spoke not of his condition with Trinity, because he was as clueless as she. It came quite obvious to him that something was indeed wrong when simple tasks became tedious, and odd jobs un-motivated him. This drove him to contemplative silence, which eventually built a wall between he and Trinity.
Religiously, Trinity would follow him to Trish's grave but she never got too close, even though he knew she was there. And every evening he would never turn around nor acknowledge her presence. Sometimes she wondered if he was half-human at all, for he possessed no real quality recently other than concealed depression. She would think this as he walked past her, hands buried deep in his pockets and bless her with a passing glance before retiring in front of the fire again.
But, this evening it was different. Dante walked to the gravesite and retrieved Sparda. Trinity stood just on the porch, leaning over the wooden railing to observe him from a safe distance, curiosity flooding her face. He was simply standing with his back to her down the trail, with Sparda jutting out just over his right shoulder.
Inside, not much had changed in Devil Never Cry. Dante seemed perfectly all right with the gaping hole Vergil had caused in it last month, much to Trinity's displeasure. She had been living there with Dante for three months, and there was neither a hint nor speculation of her presence evident. Aside from the picture of his mother on the front desk, there was nothing to explain Dante's past, supposing he had one.
Unlike Dante and Trish, she and Dante were not intimate. They spoke little and interacted even less. But there was a mutual understanding between the two half devils; once they locked eyes it was a passion, an unbreakable glare-so fierce it seemed to whose who witnessed it, but to Trinity and Dante, it was a tender stare only two half devils could understand.
He had no business and wanted no close business with women other than the woman he would one day choose to house his son-and son it would be. He did enjoy women however; Trinity often caught him lustfully admiring an imported Playboy magazine on a leisurely afternoon. He enjoyed women of all types, mostly thin and shapely, but he had no interest in Trinity as he perhaps once did in Trish.
He was possessive with her not as a caring man would be to his woman, but as hunter to his prized trophy head. Trinity knew this, but did not bother herself with his callous nature.
Dante waltzed into the main lobby and knocked his boots free of snow with Sparda in his right hand. He looked up at Trinity through his matted, white hair with a smug and almost pleased look about him. She looked him up and down casually and said, "why do you have Sparda with you?" She turned her head away chucked another few logs into the fireplace.
"It was useless where it was." He responded stepping to the side once he entered the doorway. Much to Trinity's surprise, she heard a second set of footsteps entering. She looked up, with a mixture of surprise and disbelief on her face. It was Trish.
Trinity crooked a curious eyebrow, neither disappointed nor excited to see her again. She had believed Dante when he said she would come back, but the human side of her had a hard time grasping the fact that divine forces were at work to keep resuscitating the deceased. This meant nothing other than the fact that Trish's earthly purpose was not yet fulfilled.
Trinity narrowed her brows slightly but turned her head away from them and busied herself with the fire.
"Trish." She acknowledged calmly, never the one to hint disappointment. Trish half-smiled despite herself and closed the door behind her.
"Took you long enough," Dante started, hanging up his coat. His demeanour had changed at once in her presence, a satisfied glow about him.
"Trinity was starting to worry."
Trinity could hardly believe that Trish returned looking the way she did. Nothing had changed. Nothing. And Trish reassumed her role as Dante's confidant and physical therapist as though no time had passed while she was absent at all.
Dante was sitting up at the front desk playing a hand of cards with himself, and Trinity, recently finished with an odd job, sat down before the fire to some take out Russian diashe and malokha. She planted herself on a stack of old Playboy magazines and picked at it in a disinterested fashion, rolling around an empty beer bottle under her right foot. Dante was a slob, an evident bachelor that didn't change his living conditions even for ladies present.
Trish swayed over and planted herself at Trinity's feet, pushing her long flaxen hair over her shoulders. It practically swept the floorboards. This was the closest and perhaps the most deliberate attempt to strike up conversation with Trinity thus far. She did not dislike her, but it seemed as though Dante stood between them-they were both so focused and dedicated to him, their hero-that there was no time to develop a relationship.
"How did you guys get along without me?" She asked, sitting slightly on her side, using her arm to prop her.
"We didn't," Trinity responded in a neutral tone.
"Oh..." Trish's voice trailed off. Small talk was not winning Trinity over. Trish was bothering her; it seemed, until she looked over her shoulder at Dante who was oblivious to their conversation. She lowered her voice to a whisper and slid down the stack of magazines to sit next to her.
"Something's wrong."
"With him? I noticed it too." Trish had only been around a few hours that day, yet she was conscious of the difference in Dante's behaviour already.
"He's not the same man he was a few months ago, and because of it, I feel like I've assumed the role of his guardian angel or something."
Trish nodded. "You are an angel, Trin." Trish smiled crookedly, looking over her shoulder at Dante who had passed out in a sitting position, head bent on a side in a deep slumber.
"He'll come around, I suppose."
Trinity thought not, but she didn't bother to voice her disagreement. Dante was man enough to handle it himself, whatever it was, and when the day came when he needed her, she would be happy to assist her ace. That was the end of their brief and hospitable conversation. Trinity tossed the cold food aside and sat staring intently and quietly into the fire. What was so wrong?
Dante stuck the head of Alastor into the ankle high snow outside and rested his foot on a snow-capped log. Although Sredne Kolymsk was a winter wonderland, it hadn't snowed since they'd been residents-almost half a year now. The wind was vicious, however, and Dante adjusted his gloves quickly as he looked on at his opposition. Trinity, he figured, was a fair and nimble fighter, but she could be better. By improving her swordsman- ship she would be of more value to him in the future.
"Come on Trin," he instructed, walking away from Alastor. She fixed her eyes on Trish who was leaning over the railing on the front porch watching them. How much more terrible would she be with Trish as a spectator? Anyhow, her fighting skills had improved greatly over the past few weeks so it seemed. Unless Dante was getting slow…
She plucked Alastor from the ground and studied Dante's position a few yards away from her. He was standing crooked with his shoulders slumped over as though exhausted, taking rapid breaths. Peculiar, but Trinity thought nothing of this-as he had been slow and lumbering lately, making foolish mistakes and poor judgement. But today he just allowed the wind to carry him to and fro, making no effort to withstand the natural forces.
"Dante…?" Trish said softly, beginning her descent down the front porch once she noticed something unjust. He did not reply.
"Dante?!" Trinity dropped Alastor into the snow and ran toward him just as he collapsed in a heap of crimson, mass confusion.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Jesus, he's half dead. I'm gonna go get a vital." Trish picked up Dante's legs and swung them onto the bed, disregarding the fact that dirty snow and chunks of ice would eventually pool on his bed sheets. She ran downstairs again, leaving Trinity and Dante by themselves. Trinity sat down at the foot of his bed after clicking on the dull yellow lamp and stared down at him.
"Are you dead yet? You Devil…" Dante, who was looking out the window, turned to face her and blinked once.
"No such luck, Angel." Trinity narrowed her brows, somehow convinced she knew this was coming.
Dante's room was a mess. In one corner a clutter of darts lay scattered below a dartboard that was beyond abused. A drum set, which he hadn't used in ages, was covered with various articles of clothing and guns-damned if Dante didn't have an arsenal in his room. Clips littered the unvarnished floorboards, guns of partial and full assembly hung from walls, poked out from under his bed and closet. Posters of scantily clad women with plentiful breasts embellished his room-if Dante could get his satisfaction from merely looking at naked women then he could never be sexually frustrated.
Trish strolled back into the room and casually flicked a vital star onto his chest. Taking much the same effect as the yellow orb, it liquidated into a gel- like substance and disappeared into his pores. His body flashed once with green light and as though falling in reverse, he sat up abruptly, holding his head.
"Take it easy Sparda," Trish commanded, placing a cautious hand on his chest to push him back down.
"Look, that was your last vital. Since when do you inhale those things?"
He reached over at the pack of Petro cigarettes and placed one between his lips, striking a match head on the side of his night stand and lit it, taking in a few shallow drags before he responded to her question.
"Just been dying a lot faster than usual." He had said it so relaxed and insouciant that Trinity didn't even take him seriously. He tapped a few ashes onto the floor and kicked off his boots, trading passive stares with Trish and Trinity. Trish looked over at Trinity who shrugged her shoulders slightly.
"How can I help you if you don't tell me what's wrong?"
"How can I tell you what's wrong if I don't know?" He blew smoke out his nostrils in a heavy exhale, trying to bury the apprehension on his face. Trinity opened her mouth to say something.
"Dante…" she started, placing a concerned hand on his arm.
"Forget it Trin," Trish interrupted, grabbing her hand. "Let's go get some vitals."
Trinity looked to her surprised that should would be abrasive toward his condition concerning how fond she was of him. But there was something else there in her eyes, she noticed, compelling Trinity to go with her-it was almost a hidden signal. Trinity nodded.
Rayne Tsu was not a he nor a she. It was some thing, a mythical-like sorceress that presented itself in the form of a human figure. In its current form it was a young, fair maiden with ashen hair down to it's elf- like ears, which projected slightly from beneath its brown head covering. He/she/it's eyes ran milky white with a faint iris of lavender lost in the white canvas, and its mischievous lips were constantly curled in a spiteful grimace. A trouble maker by nature, Rayne Tsu prided itself by finding any disastrous situation or calamity humorous that did not concern it.
Trish exhaled heavily and shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets to warm them. Trinity stepped up beside her, wiping her feet on the faded brown welcome mat outside the door. At least, she assumed that it said "welcome," because everything in the town was in Russian script and dialect.
"What is this?" she asked, shivering heavily. They must have trekked for miles in ankle high snow and ice paved streets from Devil Never Cry. It was the first time Trinity had wandered away from D.N.C without Dante and frankly, being in the presence of a foreign mass of individuals made her nervous.
"Rayne Tsu," Trish replied, rapping her frozen knuckles against the heavy wooden door.
"Who's that?"
"Not who, what." She corrected flatly. Trinity crooked a curious eyebrow as the door swung open and a gust of warm, inviting air rushed upon them, engulfing them in heat. Trish held the door open for Trinity to go in, but she was scanning dark interior quickly with her eyes, reluctant to enter before Trish did. Trish nodded toward the entrance jovially, assuring her with a smile.
Once inside, Trinity felt compelled to keep walking down the narrow hallway. For one, it was relieving to be out of the cold and into a snug dwelling. Secondly, the hallway was barely shoulder width and there were no side doors nor light in it. The only light was a hazy orange that glowed from a stone fireplace at the end of the hall. Trish couldn't even pass her if even she wanted to it was so narrow. Trinity felt as though she could develop a severe case of claustrophobia if she took any longer to get out.
She made a disgusted face at the smell of herbs and pot-pourri which was so potent she couldn't absorb the smell of anything else. She stopped at the end of the hallway and observed the small room before her. There was a forest green couch and an alborne oriental rug below an oak wood coffee table that held up various scented candles. The wax on the candles had long since melted and ran onto the table, cooling in a hard puddle shape. Behind the ugly leather couch there was one window that was barred with so much snow it was impossible to see out of.
There was something wrong with the dwellings-it seemed as though everything was two times smaller than average. Yes-Trinity was towering over everything indeed, the coffee table was no taller than her knees and the ceiling was abnormally low-so low in fact she just realised that she was ducking. Trish bypassed her at last, seemingly aware or everything as though she'd been there before, making her way to the small couch and collapsing into it with a heavy sigh. It almost disappeared under her body. Trinity was still looking around at the estranged home, the fireplace was no taller than her hips and the miniature furnishings seemed almost fitting for a child's playhouse.
"What is Rayne Tsu, a hobbit?" she asked, fearful to touch anything least she break it, but she could not hide the amusement in her face.
"Sit down Trin, take a load off," Trish invited, peeling off her heavy overcoat and tossing it aside. Trinity started to take off her coat as well.
"I thought we were going out for vital-" She stopped suddenly, her black eyes peeled wide with surprise and wonder as she felt tugging on the bottom of her coat.
"Yes, sit and stay a while," came the muffled voice. Trinity looked down alas into the face of Rayne Tsu, an impish little creature with haunting eyes and talon- like fingernails. Trinity's face flooded with disbelief as she stared down at the little human-like thing which now held her coat bundled up it it's hands. Her jaw loosened slightly.
"Sit," it hissed, a thin, forked tongue flickering out from between its lips. Although it had a mischievous smile fixed on its face, Trinity complied mainly because she did not wish to upset it.
Carefully, she planted herself in a small chair, swallowing the seat so much that she sat haunched over, her knees almost to her breast.
"I knew you were coming-freezing this night, aye? Must be nice…" Rayne Tsu seemed to be a little too pleasant, the words flew from its lips like rheumatic prose as it hung Trinity's coat in the closet.
Rayne's body was completely covered by brown monk-like attire, so simple it was that a rope held it tied at the waste. He/she/it hobbled along the kitchen area-which was the fireplace and poured some tea into two large mugs-large in proportion to it, of course. Trinity was blatantly intrigued by this Rayne Tsu-longing to reach out a hand and yank the covering from off its head, but she would not have been surprised if a unicorn horn was being hidden.
Rayne hobbled over to Trish and handed her the tea, hands swallowing the mug. Trish was not bothered by this at all, but Trinity accepted the tea out of manners with no intention to drink it, but to merely have it warm her hands. What the hell was she looking at? An elf? A Sprite? A hobbit? It was rational to believe that such things exist, for she was supposedly fiction herself.
"I knew you were coming," it hissed.
"Then tell me why we came," Trish requested, licking a faint moustache from her top lip. Trinity was at a lost for words, even more than usual. She watched the little thing amble into another room and come back with a wooden chair between he/she/it's hands. Rayne sat down eventually and clasped its talon like fingers, grinning heavily at Trinity.
"Yes, yes, yes," it nodded, chuckling softly.
Trish crossed her long, desirable legs and looked over at Trinity who was more than anxious to depart, had she known the way home. Trish now, suddenly became uncomfortable and unstrung. Although Rayne Tsu was no more than fortune teller, Trish knew that the imp's laugh was forbidding and filled with knowledgeable malice.
"I will tell you why you've come," Rayne chuckled, flicking he/she/its thin tongue at Trinity only to watch her writhe in disgust. Trinity scoffed, placing her mug of tea on the coffee table and waited for Rayne to pull out a crystal ball or some tarot cards, but she did no such thing. It would have entertained Trinity much to know why Trish had come, because she had no real reason for accompanying her to this place.
"You are here concerning your dying hero, you are." Trinity sat up abruptly, surprised that she knew about Dante's condition but also because she had said dying, which meant Dante was not yet out of the woods. Trish was not taken by this information.
"Yes, but why?" Trinity blurted out, suddenly a believer. Rayne chuckled some more.
"Someone has his Melancholy Soul!" It answered between laughs. Her amusement was angering Trinity something fierce. There was a slight flash of impatient fire in her dark eyes. Trish gasped at the mention.
"His Melancholy Soul? Dante's? Who?" With each question Trish edged closer to the end of the couch until she was leaning in so close to Rayne that she could see her tongue flickering inside her dark mouth.
"Why Vergil of course!"
"Vergil!" Trinity and Trish exclaimed together, nearly jumping out of their seats.
"But why? What can we do?" Trinity inquired, still overwhelmed with the fact that Vergil was behind Dante's slow demise.
"Destroy it of course! Ha! Ha!"
Trish chewed nervously on her bottom lip. Dante had done so much for her-now the tables had turned so suddenly. But Trish would do whatever in her power to destroy his Melancholy Soul-and Vergil if possible. Trinity was just as if not more impassioned to help Dante as was Trish.
"Where is he? Vergil, I mean."
"Ho ho! He has gone quite a long way! As will you if you care to save your hero! Here, take this!" Rayne threw a small glass tube into Trish's lap with a wooden cork keeping a fighting ball of light from escaping. Trinity leaned in close to look at it.
"What is that, a firefly?" She asked, tapping at the tube curiously.
"Follow the guiding light. It will take you to your hero's Melancholy Soul, it will. But I warn you! Your quest will be filled with much betrayal and tribulation! Trust must be your foundation or failure will be your promised fate." Rayne stared directly at Trinity the entire warning; only casting her eyes on Trish once when mentioning betrayal. An indirect insinuation, perhaps.
Betrayal? Tribulation? Trinity wrinkled her eyebrows and glared toward Trish's direction, but shook the thoughts of doubt from her head. Suddenly, she was burning in her heart with the desire to know who. The answer could not be postponed. Trish seemed to have been reading her thoughts, because she blurted out:
"Who, Rayne? Who?!" She grabbed hold of its impish little shoulders and shook it. Rayne shook its head.
"If I were to tell you then it would change your destiny. Mind you, I will not be the one to interfere with pre-destination!" A crooked smile fixed on Rayne's face. Trish looked to Trinity hoping she would voice her resentment, but she only went to the closet to retrieve her coat. It was time to go. Now.
Trish clumped outside fighting to button up her coat as she kicked the door shut behind her, completely stricken with disbelief. Even if she did believe it-she just didn't want to. Trinity had already started toward D.N.C.
"Trin, wait a minute, will you?" Trinity turned around and waited for Trish to catch up to her. It was getting dark and she couldn't wait to get home before there was little or no light left to guide them.
"What do you think about all this?" She asked, tucking her endless hair into her hood. Trinity shrugged almost carelessly. There was no question about her certainty.
"We're gonna need a hell of a lot of vitals."
Only days after Trish had been layed to rest, Dante's physical condition became very poor. At first, it was assumed that his excessive drinking and occasional smoking was robbing him of his vitality, but even so, a cigarette or a bit of alcohol poisoning could not affect him as swiftly as this. Dante spoke not of his condition with Trinity, because he was as clueless as she. It came quite obvious to him that something was indeed wrong when simple tasks became tedious, and odd jobs un-motivated him. This drove him to contemplative silence, which eventually built a wall between he and Trinity.
Religiously, Trinity would follow him to Trish's grave but she never got too close, even though he knew she was there. And every evening he would never turn around nor acknowledge her presence. Sometimes she wondered if he was half-human at all, for he possessed no real quality recently other than concealed depression. She would think this as he walked past her, hands buried deep in his pockets and bless her with a passing glance before retiring in front of the fire again.
But, this evening it was different. Dante walked to the gravesite and retrieved Sparda. Trinity stood just on the porch, leaning over the wooden railing to observe him from a safe distance, curiosity flooding her face. He was simply standing with his back to her down the trail, with Sparda jutting out just over his right shoulder.
Inside, not much had changed in Devil Never Cry. Dante seemed perfectly all right with the gaping hole Vergil had caused in it last month, much to Trinity's displeasure. She had been living there with Dante for three months, and there was neither a hint nor speculation of her presence evident. Aside from the picture of his mother on the front desk, there was nothing to explain Dante's past, supposing he had one.
Unlike Dante and Trish, she and Dante were not intimate. They spoke little and interacted even less. But there was a mutual understanding between the two half devils; once they locked eyes it was a passion, an unbreakable glare-so fierce it seemed to whose who witnessed it, but to Trinity and Dante, it was a tender stare only two half devils could understand.
He had no business and wanted no close business with women other than the woman he would one day choose to house his son-and son it would be. He did enjoy women however; Trinity often caught him lustfully admiring an imported Playboy magazine on a leisurely afternoon. He enjoyed women of all types, mostly thin and shapely, but he had no interest in Trinity as he perhaps once did in Trish.
He was possessive with her not as a caring man would be to his woman, but as hunter to his prized trophy head. Trinity knew this, but did not bother herself with his callous nature.
Dante waltzed into the main lobby and knocked his boots free of snow with Sparda in his right hand. He looked up at Trinity through his matted, white hair with a smug and almost pleased look about him. She looked him up and down casually and said, "why do you have Sparda with you?" She turned her head away chucked another few logs into the fireplace.
"It was useless where it was." He responded stepping to the side once he entered the doorway. Much to Trinity's surprise, she heard a second set of footsteps entering. She looked up, with a mixture of surprise and disbelief on her face. It was Trish.
Trinity crooked a curious eyebrow, neither disappointed nor excited to see her again. She had believed Dante when he said she would come back, but the human side of her had a hard time grasping the fact that divine forces were at work to keep resuscitating the deceased. This meant nothing other than the fact that Trish's earthly purpose was not yet fulfilled.
Trinity narrowed her brows slightly but turned her head away from them and busied herself with the fire.
"Trish." She acknowledged calmly, never the one to hint disappointment. Trish half-smiled despite herself and closed the door behind her.
"Took you long enough," Dante started, hanging up his coat. His demeanour had changed at once in her presence, a satisfied glow about him.
"Trinity was starting to worry."
Trinity could hardly believe that Trish returned looking the way she did. Nothing had changed. Nothing. And Trish reassumed her role as Dante's confidant and physical therapist as though no time had passed while she was absent at all.
Dante was sitting up at the front desk playing a hand of cards with himself, and Trinity, recently finished with an odd job, sat down before the fire to some take out Russian diashe and malokha. She planted herself on a stack of old Playboy magazines and picked at it in a disinterested fashion, rolling around an empty beer bottle under her right foot. Dante was a slob, an evident bachelor that didn't change his living conditions even for ladies present.
Trish swayed over and planted herself at Trinity's feet, pushing her long flaxen hair over her shoulders. It practically swept the floorboards. This was the closest and perhaps the most deliberate attempt to strike up conversation with Trinity thus far. She did not dislike her, but it seemed as though Dante stood between them-they were both so focused and dedicated to him, their hero-that there was no time to develop a relationship.
"How did you guys get along without me?" She asked, sitting slightly on her side, using her arm to prop her.
"We didn't," Trinity responded in a neutral tone.
"Oh..." Trish's voice trailed off. Small talk was not winning Trinity over. Trish was bothering her; it seemed, until she looked over her shoulder at Dante who was oblivious to their conversation. She lowered her voice to a whisper and slid down the stack of magazines to sit next to her.
"Something's wrong."
"With him? I noticed it too." Trish had only been around a few hours that day, yet she was conscious of the difference in Dante's behaviour already.
"He's not the same man he was a few months ago, and because of it, I feel like I've assumed the role of his guardian angel or something."
Trish nodded. "You are an angel, Trin." Trish smiled crookedly, looking over her shoulder at Dante who had passed out in a sitting position, head bent on a side in a deep slumber.
"He'll come around, I suppose."
Trinity thought not, but she didn't bother to voice her disagreement. Dante was man enough to handle it himself, whatever it was, and when the day came when he needed her, she would be happy to assist her ace. That was the end of their brief and hospitable conversation. Trinity tossed the cold food aside and sat staring intently and quietly into the fire. What was so wrong?
Dante stuck the head of Alastor into the ankle high snow outside and rested his foot on a snow-capped log. Although Sredne Kolymsk was a winter wonderland, it hadn't snowed since they'd been residents-almost half a year now. The wind was vicious, however, and Dante adjusted his gloves quickly as he looked on at his opposition. Trinity, he figured, was a fair and nimble fighter, but she could be better. By improving her swordsman- ship she would be of more value to him in the future.
"Come on Trin," he instructed, walking away from Alastor. She fixed her eyes on Trish who was leaning over the railing on the front porch watching them. How much more terrible would she be with Trish as a spectator? Anyhow, her fighting skills had improved greatly over the past few weeks so it seemed. Unless Dante was getting slow…
She plucked Alastor from the ground and studied Dante's position a few yards away from her. He was standing crooked with his shoulders slumped over as though exhausted, taking rapid breaths. Peculiar, but Trinity thought nothing of this-as he had been slow and lumbering lately, making foolish mistakes and poor judgement. But today he just allowed the wind to carry him to and fro, making no effort to withstand the natural forces.
"Dante…?" Trish said softly, beginning her descent down the front porch once she noticed something unjust. He did not reply.
"Dante?!" Trinity dropped Alastor into the snow and ran toward him just as he collapsed in a heap of crimson, mass confusion.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Jesus, he's half dead. I'm gonna go get a vital." Trish picked up Dante's legs and swung them onto the bed, disregarding the fact that dirty snow and chunks of ice would eventually pool on his bed sheets. She ran downstairs again, leaving Trinity and Dante by themselves. Trinity sat down at the foot of his bed after clicking on the dull yellow lamp and stared down at him.
"Are you dead yet? You Devil…" Dante, who was looking out the window, turned to face her and blinked once.
"No such luck, Angel." Trinity narrowed her brows, somehow convinced she knew this was coming.
Dante's room was a mess. In one corner a clutter of darts lay scattered below a dartboard that was beyond abused. A drum set, which he hadn't used in ages, was covered with various articles of clothing and guns-damned if Dante didn't have an arsenal in his room. Clips littered the unvarnished floorboards, guns of partial and full assembly hung from walls, poked out from under his bed and closet. Posters of scantily clad women with plentiful breasts embellished his room-if Dante could get his satisfaction from merely looking at naked women then he could never be sexually frustrated.
Trish strolled back into the room and casually flicked a vital star onto his chest. Taking much the same effect as the yellow orb, it liquidated into a gel- like substance and disappeared into his pores. His body flashed once with green light and as though falling in reverse, he sat up abruptly, holding his head.
"Take it easy Sparda," Trish commanded, placing a cautious hand on his chest to push him back down.
"Look, that was your last vital. Since when do you inhale those things?"
He reached over at the pack of Petro cigarettes and placed one between his lips, striking a match head on the side of his night stand and lit it, taking in a few shallow drags before he responded to her question.
"Just been dying a lot faster than usual." He had said it so relaxed and insouciant that Trinity didn't even take him seriously. He tapped a few ashes onto the floor and kicked off his boots, trading passive stares with Trish and Trinity. Trish looked over at Trinity who shrugged her shoulders slightly.
"How can I help you if you don't tell me what's wrong?"
"How can I tell you what's wrong if I don't know?" He blew smoke out his nostrils in a heavy exhale, trying to bury the apprehension on his face. Trinity opened her mouth to say something.
"Dante…" she started, placing a concerned hand on his arm.
"Forget it Trin," Trish interrupted, grabbing her hand. "Let's go get some vitals."
Trinity looked to her surprised that should would be abrasive toward his condition concerning how fond she was of him. But there was something else there in her eyes, she noticed, compelling Trinity to go with her-it was almost a hidden signal. Trinity nodded.
Rayne Tsu was not a he nor a she. It was some thing, a mythical-like sorceress that presented itself in the form of a human figure. In its current form it was a young, fair maiden with ashen hair down to it's elf- like ears, which projected slightly from beneath its brown head covering. He/she/it's eyes ran milky white with a faint iris of lavender lost in the white canvas, and its mischievous lips were constantly curled in a spiteful grimace. A trouble maker by nature, Rayne Tsu prided itself by finding any disastrous situation or calamity humorous that did not concern it.
Trish exhaled heavily and shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets to warm them. Trinity stepped up beside her, wiping her feet on the faded brown welcome mat outside the door. At least, she assumed that it said "welcome," because everything in the town was in Russian script and dialect.
"What is this?" she asked, shivering heavily. They must have trekked for miles in ankle high snow and ice paved streets from Devil Never Cry. It was the first time Trinity had wandered away from D.N.C without Dante and frankly, being in the presence of a foreign mass of individuals made her nervous.
"Rayne Tsu," Trish replied, rapping her frozen knuckles against the heavy wooden door.
"Who's that?"
"Not who, what." She corrected flatly. Trinity crooked a curious eyebrow as the door swung open and a gust of warm, inviting air rushed upon them, engulfing them in heat. Trish held the door open for Trinity to go in, but she was scanning dark interior quickly with her eyes, reluctant to enter before Trish did. Trish nodded toward the entrance jovially, assuring her with a smile.
Once inside, Trinity felt compelled to keep walking down the narrow hallway. For one, it was relieving to be out of the cold and into a snug dwelling. Secondly, the hallway was barely shoulder width and there were no side doors nor light in it. The only light was a hazy orange that glowed from a stone fireplace at the end of the hall. Trish couldn't even pass her if even she wanted to it was so narrow. Trinity felt as though she could develop a severe case of claustrophobia if she took any longer to get out.
She made a disgusted face at the smell of herbs and pot-pourri which was so potent she couldn't absorb the smell of anything else. She stopped at the end of the hallway and observed the small room before her. There was a forest green couch and an alborne oriental rug below an oak wood coffee table that held up various scented candles. The wax on the candles had long since melted and ran onto the table, cooling in a hard puddle shape. Behind the ugly leather couch there was one window that was barred with so much snow it was impossible to see out of.
There was something wrong with the dwellings-it seemed as though everything was two times smaller than average. Yes-Trinity was towering over everything indeed, the coffee table was no taller than her knees and the ceiling was abnormally low-so low in fact she just realised that she was ducking. Trish bypassed her at last, seemingly aware or everything as though she'd been there before, making her way to the small couch and collapsing into it with a heavy sigh. It almost disappeared under her body. Trinity was still looking around at the estranged home, the fireplace was no taller than her hips and the miniature furnishings seemed almost fitting for a child's playhouse.
"What is Rayne Tsu, a hobbit?" she asked, fearful to touch anything least she break it, but she could not hide the amusement in her face.
"Sit down Trin, take a load off," Trish invited, peeling off her heavy overcoat and tossing it aside. Trinity started to take off her coat as well.
"I thought we were going out for vital-" She stopped suddenly, her black eyes peeled wide with surprise and wonder as she felt tugging on the bottom of her coat.
"Yes, sit and stay a while," came the muffled voice. Trinity looked down alas into the face of Rayne Tsu, an impish little creature with haunting eyes and talon- like fingernails. Trinity's face flooded with disbelief as she stared down at the little human-like thing which now held her coat bundled up it it's hands. Her jaw loosened slightly.
"Sit," it hissed, a thin, forked tongue flickering out from between its lips. Although it had a mischievous smile fixed on its face, Trinity complied mainly because she did not wish to upset it.
Carefully, she planted herself in a small chair, swallowing the seat so much that she sat haunched over, her knees almost to her breast.
"I knew you were coming-freezing this night, aye? Must be nice…" Rayne Tsu seemed to be a little too pleasant, the words flew from its lips like rheumatic prose as it hung Trinity's coat in the closet.
Rayne's body was completely covered by brown monk-like attire, so simple it was that a rope held it tied at the waste. He/she/it hobbled along the kitchen area-which was the fireplace and poured some tea into two large mugs-large in proportion to it, of course. Trinity was blatantly intrigued by this Rayne Tsu-longing to reach out a hand and yank the covering from off its head, but she would not have been surprised if a unicorn horn was being hidden.
Rayne hobbled over to Trish and handed her the tea, hands swallowing the mug. Trish was not bothered by this at all, but Trinity accepted the tea out of manners with no intention to drink it, but to merely have it warm her hands. What the hell was she looking at? An elf? A Sprite? A hobbit? It was rational to believe that such things exist, for she was supposedly fiction herself.
"I knew you were coming," it hissed.
"Then tell me why we came," Trish requested, licking a faint moustache from her top lip. Trinity was at a lost for words, even more than usual. She watched the little thing amble into another room and come back with a wooden chair between he/she/it's hands. Rayne sat down eventually and clasped its talon like fingers, grinning heavily at Trinity.
"Yes, yes, yes," it nodded, chuckling softly.
Trish crossed her long, desirable legs and looked over at Trinity who was more than anxious to depart, had she known the way home. Trish now, suddenly became uncomfortable and unstrung. Although Rayne Tsu was no more than fortune teller, Trish knew that the imp's laugh was forbidding and filled with knowledgeable malice.
"I will tell you why you've come," Rayne chuckled, flicking he/she/its thin tongue at Trinity only to watch her writhe in disgust. Trinity scoffed, placing her mug of tea on the coffee table and waited for Rayne to pull out a crystal ball or some tarot cards, but she did no such thing. It would have entertained Trinity much to know why Trish had come, because she had no real reason for accompanying her to this place.
"You are here concerning your dying hero, you are." Trinity sat up abruptly, surprised that she knew about Dante's condition but also because she had said dying, which meant Dante was not yet out of the woods. Trish was not taken by this information.
"Yes, but why?" Trinity blurted out, suddenly a believer. Rayne chuckled some more.
"Someone has his Melancholy Soul!" It answered between laughs. Her amusement was angering Trinity something fierce. There was a slight flash of impatient fire in her dark eyes. Trish gasped at the mention.
"His Melancholy Soul? Dante's? Who?" With each question Trish edged closer to the end of the couch until she was leaning in so close to Rayne that she could see her tongue flickering inside her dark mouth.
"Why Vergil of course!"
"Vergil!" Trinity and Trish exclaimed together, nearly jumping out of their seats.
"But why? What can we do?" Trinity inquired, still overwhelmed with the fact that Vergil was behind Dante's slow demise.
"Destroy it of course! Ha! Ha!"
Trish chewed nervously on her bottom lip. Dante had done so much for her-now the tables had turned so suddenly. But Trish would do whatever in her power to destroy his Melancholy Soul-and Vergil if possible. Trinity was just as if not more impassioned to help Dante as was Trish.
"Where is he? Vergil, I mean."
"Ho ho! He has gone quite a long way! As will you if you care to save your hero! Here, take this!" Rayne threw a small glass tube into Trish's lap with a wooden cork keeping a fighting ball of light from escaping. Trinity leaned in close to look at it.
"What is that, a firefly?" She asked, tapping at the tube curiously.
"Follow the guiding light. It will take you to your hero's Melancholy Soul, it will. But I warn you! Your quest will be filled with much betrayal and tribulation! Trust must be your foundation or failure will be your promised fate." Rayne stared directly at Trinity the entire warning; only casting her eyes on Trish once when mentioning betrayal. An indirect insinuation, perhaps.
Betrayal? Tribulation? Trinity wrinkled her eyebrows and glared toward Trish's direction, but shook the thoughts of doubt from her head. Suddenly, she was burning in her heart with the desire to know who. The answer could not be postponed. Trish seemed to have been reading her thoughts, because she blurted out:
"Who, Rayne? Who?!" She grabbed hold of its impish little shoulders and shook it. Rayne shook its head.
"If I were to tell you then it would change your destiny. Mind you, I will not be the one to interfere with pre-destination!" A crooked smile fixed on Rayne's face. Trish looked to Trinity hoping she would voice her resentment, but she only went to the closet to retrieve her coat. It was time to go. Now.
Trish clumped outside fighting to button up her coat as she kicked the door shut behind her, completely stricken with disbelief. Even if she did believe it-she just didn't want to. Trinity had already started toward D.N.C.
"Trin, wait a minute, will you?" Trinity turned around and waited for Trish to catch up to her. It was getting dark and she couldn't wait to get home before there was little or no light left to guide them.
"What do you think about all this?" She asked, tucking her endless hair into her hood. Trinity shrugged almost carelessly. There was no question about her certainty.
"We're gonna need a hell of a lot of vitals."