He underestimated that demon. That was a big mistake.
It was incidental that the explosion in that skyscraper threw him out of the window and he landed on concrete, the only thing that cushioned his fall. He might have broken a couple ribs, dislocated a shoulder here, and fractured something else there. It was nothing that his abilities aren't able to fix up in a bit.
Dante held his side, staggering towards the direction of his pride and joy, the Devil May Cry. Stumbling, he managed to let himself catch a breather for a minute when he stabbed Rebellion in the ground before reaching the shop. He felt the cruel physics of gravity weighing down his shoulders. He collapsed, deprived of strength in the office, door left wide open.
Bayonetta was expecting a full moon tonight. To her disappointment, a new moon appeared in its place. She sighed, discarding a lollipop stick aside. Something's making her uneasy like something bad is going to happen or it already did. She could feel it in her gut. Ignoring feelings like these would be foolish as she's hardly wrong when it comes to them. She floated down to earth, butterfly wings softening the fall. That's when she noticed a door left open, surely letting in unwanted visitors.
At this time? Don't tell me a tea party is being held. She glanced at the Devil May Cry's fluorescent lights, the D flicking rapidly from the other letters. It was quiet, too quiet for her liking. She ventured through its doors and that's where she saw a body lying facedown, making no sign of life. She turned the body over and pulled it in her lap. Bloody Hell… Dante. He appeared to be in critical condition, worse than she has seen him in, his features battered and exhausted, he's seen better days. She urgently slapped his cheek. His eyes fluttered weakly at her.
"What happened to you? How did you get wounded like that?" She paused, glancing at the rouge liquid staining her white gloves. "You're bleeding." She couldn't understand why his injuries aren't regenerating as they should; he's immortal where sustaining fatal wounds is concerned. By the way, he just laid there immobile, he couldn't heal on his own and didn't bother standing up.
Dante stiffened, chuckling lightly. "Whaddya know, Bay? Red's a nice color for you…" He wasn't really seeing her, more like through her or possibly delirious. Steadying his breathing, he closed his eyes.
She touched his forehead, gasping at heat radiating off his skin to the fabric surrounding the glove of her hand. A bead of sweat tickled down from his hairline. "Damnit, fever," she muttered, puzzled at his pained expression. "Hey, don't you dare die on me, Dante!"
He didn't seem to hear her. He already passed out.
"You bastard," she sighed, raising his arm over her shoulders and balancing his weight to her, she laid him down across a couch, removing the clothes on the upper part of his body. Normally, I wouldn't play the nurse here but I suppose I could be generous and kick his ass later for having me do this for him. Just this once, of course. She wrung a small moist towel dry and dabbed gently at his face to remove dried blood and attempt to lower the fever. His expression changed.
*~*~*
"Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars…"
A heavenly voice and a strong aroma encouraged him to wake up. The voice belonging to a woman and the aroma was strong combination of pine and camphor – bitter when inhaled.
"Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars. In other words, hold my hand…" Bayonetta stopped herself, noticing that he woke up. She placed a deck of cards down in front of her, uncrossing her legs. She had been shuffling cards and singing softly while he had been unconscious. "You're finally awake. I was starting to worry - I didn't think you would ever wake up. How do you feel?" She leaned close to his side, smiling. No sadistic grin or teasing jeer, just a genuine smile.
Dante stared at her, trying to remember how he got there and what had transpired. He just passed out and woke up to her song, that's about it from memory. His eyes shifted to a modest decorative vase across from him containing a plant. Its fragrance is familiar but he couldn't place his finger on it other than it's an herb. The leaves of it were spiky and narrow, a glossy green color and a grayish tint on the undersides with small white to dark blue flowers assorted to complete its appearance.
Her eyes followed to the direction where he was staring. "Rosemary," she explained absently, stroking its tender leaves. "A demon repellant since I assumed a demon attacked you. It hardly has any affect on you and keeps me at bay so don't worry." Rosemary. It symbolizes remembrance, right? Would it be wrong to say she looks like an angel since angels are hideous or right since they are described as mysterious, alluring beings?
He tried to speak but his mouth was bandaged and his words ended up muffled by it. He raised a finger and scratched at his jaw. She had tightened the gauze tightly that he could barely move flexibly, much less try to sit up. Raising a free finger, he gestured for her to come closer.
"Huh?" She blinked and lowered an ear to listen.
"…You sing off-key." He grumbled.
She straightened herself slowly, agitated by the comment. Growling, she calmly seized a pillow she placed under his head and slammed on it on him. Dante yelped as a flurry of red cards fell and the sheet tore, releasing contents of white fluff. "Hmph!" She grunted unsympathetically as she strutted off on her way. That'll show him some real pain and teach him how to be more grateful. A simple token of gratitude would have been nice, thanks. She hissed at her teeth about how she shouldn't have helped him.
Dante twitched, cotton-white feathers floated down to him as he noticed a playing card resting on his forehead. Its side is facing down. He lifted the card up. A queen of hearts.