Chapter 2: The Peaceful Journey

This was the most unhappy Trinity had seen Dante in months, even more so than when Trish was supposedly dead. Of course, she was not the one to break the news to him, she stood in the doorway with her arms crossed as Trish regurgitated all the information they had earlier received. And Dante's face modulated from anger to worry to resentment and even sadness during that time, but he was by all means ready to embark on this journey to reclaim his soul, dying or not.

Trish sat silently at the edge of his bed, a reassuring hand resting on his leg as they awaited his reply. Dante, who was covered waste down with his bare chest exposed, no longer seemed to mind the ridiculously cold weather, nor the information received. He swept the pack of Petro cigarettes into the trash can with one clean motion and tucked his arms behind his head, staring vacantly at Trish.

"Start packing," was all that came from him.





Trinity, long since finished packing, retired to her bed earlier than usual, thinking. She lay staring into the ceiling, black hair scattered about her head, covering the pillow like a creeping mass of darkness. She lay flat on her back on the old tattered sheets, passing her eyes over the bare walls. So uninteresting and bland.

Trish still had the light on, shuffling around the room doing God knows what. A wonder she wasn't curled up in Dante's bed exercising her right to nurse him or satisfy his libidinous urges. It was arguable which of the two were more beautiful, Trish or Trinity, although they could not be anymore different. It was a matter of simple preference. Origin drove the wedge of difference between the two; darkness and daylight. It was also arguable which was which.

They were all packed now, if you wanted to call it that. Dante saw no true reason to bring anything other than the warm clothes on his back and the weapons that decorated his body. All Trinity would bring with her was Force Edge, which had been given to her by none other than that half-devil himself. But Trish, Trish had the guiding light and all the green orbs and vital stars red orbs could buy.

Would this be an emotional excursion for Dante, even though he and Vergil had long since broken the ties between them? The fact still remained, the amulet that swayed ever so gently about Trish's slender neck was a constant reminder that Dante was not alone. Regardless, Vergil was his brother. Even if he was trying to kill him.





Dante's idea of morning was too literal an idea-12:45AM, exactly. Even though Trish's eyes were closed, there was an unwelcome flood of light that invaded the comfort of her darkness and roused her from her subconscious. She rolled to her side, squinting at the intensity of the light. Dante had Trinity grasped by the arms, shaking her gently. He was already dressed to go.

"Trinity, get up. Time to go. You too, Trish." He looked back over his right shoulder at her and nodded a brief morning hello. Trish sat up stiffly and pawed around for her clothes despite herself. Trinity, convinced she was dreaming, was completely unwilling to leave the warmth and comfort of her bed to start on this expedition so early. But, just out the corner of her heavy eyes she noticed Dante making use of another green orb and that was enough to compel her out of bed. It was dreadful to witness how much this was draining him.

"Yeah, gimmie a minute," she mumbled in her best half-conscious voice, pushing her hair behind her shoulders. Dante nodded and hopped down the stairs taking every other step until he reached the bottom floor where he only stopped to put on another coat before heading outside.

Pitch black outside it was, with the mere exception of the full moon that painted the white snow a pale blue with reflection. Quite a spectacle to behold, however, how His Majesty never ceased to use nature as a canvas for His masterpieces. The rays were His paintbrushes, the world was His canvas and anything in it was worthy to be painted as He see fit. The trees, faint skeletons with little hope of retaining the life they once had, cast long menacing shadows that caressed the trail they had yet to take.

The night was still and deathly chilly with faint sounds of four sled dogs snuffing and scuffling up snow under their paws. It was the fastest and most logical way to get around Sredne Kolymsk's harsh terrain. But Dante could only afford two sleds with two Malamutes attached to each, which was what they had to make due with until they were able to switch transportation's. Dante exhaled heavily, his breath vaporising about his gorgeous face. The simplicity of this "mission" made him uneasy. Already he could feel himself begin to wither with oncoming death, he would have to watch himself least he succumb to it at a latter time. Never again would he allow himself to be so helpless and defeated in front of Trish and Trinity.

Trinity made it outside first, fighting to close up her parka with one hand while holding Force Edge in the next ,as she quietly made her way down the porch steps. She stopped just short of Dante and raised a disbelieving eye towards the dogs. Dante seemed to be reading her.

"It'll take us where we need to go."

"Yeah, but how does it steer?

"Just let me do the driving, Angel," he retorted, looking toward the door as Trish emerged with the shotgun resting on her shoulder. Dante motioned toward her sleigh with a courteous bow. Trish, with much umbrage stapled to her attractive visage, mounted the runner and looked down at the two lumbering wolf-dogs. And they looked back lovingly, with a stupid lolling- tongue expression, wagging their bushy tails with anticipation.

Dante mounted his too, wrapping Trinity's arms around his masculine body, generous enough to remove Alastor so it would not harm her. She held on tightly to him, feet securely planted on the narrow planks.

"Hold on well. You ready Trish?" He looked over at her who nodded as she carefully removed the cork from the glass tube. The little light shot out, seemingly elated to be released and busied itself in a circular dance before shooting toward its destination.

Dante whistled, and the two dogs leapt to their feet and began to pull their temporary masters behind the light. Trish whistled as well, and soon she was but a pace behind them, trotting along in the darkness.



A solid three hours had passed and Trish's lashes were paved with frost, her hands although gloved had long since lost feeling in the fingers and the ability to clench. The light was always ahead of them, sensible enough to know that when they stopped, it was to stop as well. It would be hours yet until the sun peaked, and Trish didn't know how much more she could take of the wind ripping against her face. She glanced over at Dante who didn't seem to mind that his lips were heavy with numb weight and his feet were undoubtfully frozen in place on the runner.

At first, Trinity was blissful, holding fast to her hero's midsection and pressing her face against his back for warmth- up until sleep began to sweep her face and Dante's body heat comforted her so much that she was fighting sleep as though she would die if she closed her eyes for too long. She allowed herself to slip once, but, on guard usual, Dante grabbed her arms under his until she was able to pull herself to a standing position once again.

"Dante, please…can't we stop for a while?" Trish begged, hopping off the sled every now and again to run beside it. It was her way of waking herself up. Dante didn't reply but he very much wanted to keep going until the nearest town. There was something about where they were that made him distraught. He slowed the sled for just a moment, passing his eyes from dead tree to dead tree, a thick forest of skeletal shrubbery that they were in the midst of.

"Hmm," he growled curiously, his senses tingling with each passing second. He listened intently, sharp eye on the surroundings, hoping he would see a shadow to confirm his presuppositions but, luckily he was disappointed.

"What the hell was that?" Trish exclaimed suddenly, snapping her head to the sound of childish laughter. Dante looked too, his hand unconsciously drifting toward Ivory. HE wrapped his finger over the trigger, ready.

"Where's the light?" Trinity asked, head raised toward the sky. It was gone.

"Oh shit," Dante mumbled, pulling out Ivory and looking about him desperately. He pressed the frozen nozzle up against his mid section, reluctant to return it yet anxious to avoid confrontation in his condition. Trish stopped first, fright melting her frozen face as she looked about her nervously. The rustling and the childish laughter seemed to be mocking them or rather fuelling their anticipation so that they would be driven to attack.

The dogs now, sensing some foreign danger began barking fearlessly at that which they could not see. Their ears folded neatly against their heads, bearing intimidating fangs and menacing growls in hopes of scaring off whatever it was.

A bold Sin Scythe floated through the writhed branches like some black entity, confident that it would succeed in destroying its first target: Trish. It darted forward quietly with the scythe grasped tightly between its' ghostly hands, swinging with such force that the least effort it seemed to take ironically tossed Trish clear off the runner into a thicket of trees. With startling speed, Trish had disappeared from view within a blinking moment's waste. Immediately the bold barking ceased and the dogs resided to deep throat whimpers and fearful yips, loosing all courage.

Dante now, well aware of the enemy he was facing, did not wait for the Sin Scythe to come to him, rather, the night was disrupted with rapid fire and screams of evidence that one of the Scythe had been hit. The natural element became Dante's instrument of aid; leaping off trees which assisted him in dazzling aerobatics and kicking up snow to temporarily blind his attackers as he seemed to disappear behind this white veil. Tumbling and ducking in the snow was his grace, but Trinity needed no such fluff.

Recently she had found that her powers allowed her to be anchored and fighting. Another Sin Scythe, rushing down on her with its scythe high, found itself suspended only feet away from her, where she simply plucked the scythe from it and shattered its mask to pieces with little or not effort on her part. This new weapon armed, it was much easier for her to let loose round trip after round trip, freeing her hands to cease the flight of whichever Sin Scythe that mistakenly got too close.

Trish was even more graceful with fury as her adrenaline. Each Scythe was blasted to dust with the rage that exploded from her fingertips. It was well that Trish and Trinity could hold their own, because Dante was in no condition to fight for them and himself. It wasn't long until the rapid fire became spaced and infrequent, rolling and tumbling took too much from him and the jumping ceased altogether. Desperate, a Sin threw its scythe at an unsuspecting Dante, splattering his blood all over the surrounding snow. Recovering quickly by the power of will, he managed to fire off a powered bullet into the face of the scythe which exploded on impact. The little light reappeared where the Scythe once was. Silence.

"Argh…" Dante dropped to his knees and crossed his arms over his chest and midsection, pain grinding his teeth together. Trish dropped the shotgun and ran over to him, eager to offer a vital star or green orb but, Trinity grabbed her arm gently to stop her, already aware of what was happening to him.

"He's healing himself," she explained, watching the blue energy about his body absorb slowly into him. Trish offered him a hand.

"You gonna be OK Dante?" she asked, pulling him to his feet. Despite the short rejuvenation process, he was still evidently drained and he would continue to loose fight least he accept a green orb. His pride would not allow him, however, for to accept an orb would mean he was incapable of continuing naturally, showing weakness.

"Let's go, I'm alright." He hopped on the runner again, waiting patiently for Trinity to reattach herself. Trish shook her head, well aware of his ignorance as she picked up the discarded shotgun and stepped up to the runner herself. There was a whistle, and they were off again.





It was a little after four when they had reached remote Magaáan. The entire town was asleep and the only available motel that would accept them was small and decrepit, but sleep was so intense they were too unconscious or too sleepy to care. The three of them would have make due with one room.

Dante tumbled into the room half frozen and half dead, threw himself at the end of the bed and fumbled to press a vital star into his flesh best he could. Trish and Trinity walked in on this but acted oblivious to what he was doing, giving him at least his pride. He was helpless against this invisible force. And he just knelt there at the foot of the bed, defeated, his face pressed into the quilt as though he were praying, beads of melting ice dotting his face.



Trish was up early the next morning throwing back a bit of coffee to warm her body. For some reason, even though she hated to admit it, Trish was strongly dwelling on everything Rayne Tsu had to say to them. She had figured, if anyone were to be a traitor, it would be Trinity. She was a direct descendant from a minion of the Dark Prince himself. Yet a side of her scorned herself for thinking such things, for Trinity was more angel than devil, and she had more of a history of back-stabbing than did Trinity. Nevertheless, she knew who she was. She knew what Trinity was, but who was she?

Dante was inside the motel behind her paying for their stay and Trinity, who took up quite the liking to the sled dogs, was busy treating them to bacon before they went separate ways. Trish yawned heavily, staring through the veil of snow at the large ship that would take them clear across the Sea of Okhotsk. The name of the ship was in large black bold named RUHIGE REISE which, in translation from German meant peaceful or calm journey. It was there where the light had stopped, and it was evident that it needed them to follow it through this sea somewhere south of there, possibly the Kuril Islands.

Sleep raked her face; she had got up so many times during the night to see if Dante still had a pulse, but he had already disciplined himself to periodically get up and treat himself. Yet, she could not help but stare at her handsome ace as he did it. In a way, it motivated her. Everyday they were just another step closer to their final destination.

The townsfolk were quite peculiar, knowingly regarding Dante as "the demon hunter," being overwhelmingly pleasant to he and his company. Although they, having with time forgotten or dismissed the legend, considered him to be a little less than sane. Dante strutted from the motel, Alastor over one shoulder, Force Edge on the next, and walked up next to Trish quietly. He had somehow overnight acquired this unpleasant air about him; he was still deathly sarcastic and smart-assed, but he became quite impossible to talk to. It was only because he was defensive, trying to regain the respect which he thought he had lost by showing weakness.

The Ruhige Reise was not a legitimate ship-it was more of a revised luxury boat that had been used as though it were made for labour. It hauled fish, trash and more importantly to them, anyone who wished to get away from Magaáan.

Dante made his way up the ramp first, with Trish and his heels and Trinity at hers. He was overly cautious not to slip on a patch of ice on the wooden ramp or to fall victim to a supernatural force. He had known since he was stricken with the death spell that there was evil watching them. Watching them wherever they went, whatever they did. Casting hateful eyes about them as they slept. Last night was only the first of many attacks-Dante was not surprised. But he was not worried, the Underworld's main concern would not be them, necessarily, but to rid of the guiding light. Once it was gone it was no more, and Dante would have no way of finding his soul. Right now it was safe inside the glass tubing, which in return was safe inside Trish's coat pocket.



Aside from Dante's party, there was only the ships' captain who was an irrelevant middle aged man named Sckuff, a handful of men whose job was to somewhere dispose of the trash, and a chef. None of them spoke English. Because of their sex, Trish and Trinity were understandably uncomfortable being the only females and already there was a comment made that was deciphered to be sexual. This ended promptly, for Dante stuffed the nozzle of Ebony between his teeth and promised to kill him. Violence is a universal language of its own in a sense.

The journey was beyond boring. They interacted with no one, bothered nothing, and only left their room to eat lunch in silence with the lingering smell of decomposing trash embellishing the small dining room. Otherwise, they were intentionally alienated in their rooms all day. Interaction was useless and unnecessary for Dante, who every few hours would dive into weakness.

Trish sat in their quarters, entertaining herself as Dante slept, looking over now and again out a small porthole to see if the light was travelling in their favour. It was. Trinity on the other hand, adapted a case of fearlessness, patrolling the upper and lower decks. Confidant that this job was important, she wondered still if Trish would be lost in Dante, forgetting that despite his seeming vitality, he was dying. It was well into the night hour and she was certain that something would again try to capture the guiding light. As they started out from Magaáan, Force Edge was literally frozen in her clenched fist, but, south promised a warmer climate. With time, her entire body had thawed-a process which hurt a great deal, and she was able to shed the excess clothing.

She leaned over the railing, staring out into the blackened horizon. North, south, east, and west had been temporarily lost in this black sea. Had she not known up from down, she would have been confused as to which was the night sky, littered with stars and blue moon, and which was the sea that mimicked it with frightening accuracy.

Trish opened the door to their room behind her, glass tube in hand. Trinity looked back but said nothing as she approached the railing, waiting for the light to come to her. As if programmed, it floated over willingly into the glass. There was a roar from bottom deck, but she thought nothing of it as the shipmates had been boisterous and drunken most of the night. There was a commotion, most likely an angry loser flipping over the card table, then scuffling.

"Say, you hear that?" Trinity asked, leaning on Force Edge as if it were a prop.

"What? Silence? Finally." Trish replied, rolling the tube between her palms in an agitated habit.

"Despite that. Listen." She leaned over the railing to hear what was going on down deck, Trish joining her as well.

"What am I listening for?" She asked, pulling her hair from her eyes. There was a loud shuffling sound, wood scraping against wood perhaps, and two metallic objects clanging together.

"That." She leaned all the way over the rail now, holding on for dear life least she slip, and leaned over best she could to see part of the bottom deck. A Marionette hopped by, then another, moving as if some invisible puppeteer was controlling them, arms bent at the joints and knees bending slightly with each hop forward. Trinity's eyes widened as a Fetish slid by spinning its wheel of fire.

"Shit." She flew back up over the railing and spun around to face Trish.

Courteous, but not curious, she asked, "what's happening?"

"They're dead. The shipmates-no doubt they are. And there's a gang of Marionettes heading up here now." She spoke quickly, banging open the door loudly to purposely wake Dante. He jumped up erectly, shooting a hand over at the nightstand which did not exist for his guns that were not there. Force of habit it was, and he swiped nothing but air.

"What?" He was half drowsy and fogged with a film of sleep that blurred his vision as he pat the bed around him for his shirt.

"Trouble, and it's heading up here."



Trish wished to start in the thick of things, waiting with much expectation at the top of the staircase. At first she could only hear them coming, but soon they were in sight. So fixed she was on what was before her, that she was oblivious to the red portal behind her transporting a Fetish with its arms held high above its head.

They were coming from everywhere, the little ship had become a congregation hall for Fetish, Bloody Mary and Marionette alike in a matter of minutes. One appeared in front of Trinity as she was leaving the room, swinging its knives furiously. Half clad, Dante blasted a shotgun round straight through its wooden head, bursting it backwards with its mouth open in a silent scream. A shower of orbs pelted her body. Relieved, she darted out and looked left, lurching back at the army of Marionettes that edged forward.

"Trish?!" She called, managing to catch a glimpse of her between the cluttered bodies. Dante sprung out from behind her wasting no time with hesitation, leapt directly into the heart of demons and the red orbs begun to fly. Red orb was exchanged for blood when the rush was upon him, plummeting him with blow after blow and shotgun blast for shotgun blast. Trinity lifted her hand to them, picking up a small crowd and with a simple flick of her wrist, dismissed the mass into the sea, clearing a narrow path for her to get to Trish.

She shoved through the bodies ignoring the damage inflicted on her and ran smack into the chest of a Fetish which brought up its weapons to protect itself. Before she knew what was happening, it sucked in a breath of air, brought its head back and an explosion of fire rushed from its gaping mouth. She threw herself to the floor, cringing from the heat as the Marionettes caught fire, screaming yet still attacking, spreading the fire among themselves. Dante was seen leaping up from the crowd, and when he went down again the rage of hell fire was upon them, and ignited bodies flew to and fro about the ship. This had more disadvantage, for the entire top deck caught fire in a large orange blaze that swept away friend and foe alike.

Trish was in a losing struggle the entire time, pinned to the floor by a gang of Fetish's that were smart enough to know that if her hands were held she could not use her powers. But clenched in one sweaty palm was the glass tube which she fought to keep to herself. Dante was screaming yards away, frantically trying to put himself out. The confusion was too much.

"Dante!" Trish called, fighting to keep her fist clenched.

"Trish! Throw me the light!" Trinity yelled, dodging being shot to hell by a Marionette's gunfire. She held her hand high and pleaded with her with her eyes, knowing well that it was the light that they were after. But Trish refused, Rayne's words echoing along with her misconceptions of Trinity tumbling about in her head. She would not throw it. She could not, for some unknown force bound her to it.

"Trish!"

"Don't let them get the light!" Dante yelled, stinging his way toward Trish, but every time he made an advancement another Marionette would appear and cease his progression. The ship was filled top and bottom deck with the demon puppets, the fire now de-escalating to the bottom deck. In an instant, the methane gas from the decomposing trash caught fire and there was a mountain of fire emitting wicked heat into the night. There was a slight tilt, then the ship dropped dramatically. Water began to slowly flood the bottom deck where the old wood was giving away as though it were paper.

In that impeccable moment, the Fetish managed to slam Trish's arms against the deck in such a way that the strength sprang her hand open and the tube jolted from her open palm. It sailed toward the bottom deck, the glass exploded, and the little light fluttered about seemingly confused. If floated up deck, only to be sucked into the awaiting mouth of a Fetish.

"No!" Desperate, Dante tackled the guilty Fetish with such force that its back connected with the railing, sending both of them toppling over the railing into the water. Trinity banged an aggravated fist against the railing, gagging from the charred smell of burning Marionettes behind her. She felt her feet slip as Ruhige Reise tilted with its nose jutting up toward the sky. Frantic, she released Force Edge and grasped the railing with both hands, looking down in time to see Trish slide unwillingly into the water. As she was looking up again, a falling Marionette blind- sided her so hard she hadn't a choice but to let go. Head over heels in mass confusion they tumbled, intertwined, attaching and detaching time and again until a she was engulfed by water.

Trish was fighting off a Bloody Mary which had her ankle fastened between its askew, wooden hands, dragging her down into the abyss. Every time she thrashed her arms to get to the surface it was met with the flaring arms of a Marionette. She managed to break free and blindly propel herself off the bodies about her, bursting from the surface and sucking in air like a vacuum. The fire had illuminated the night, chunks of burning wood and trash littered the water as did several bodies trying to stay afloat. Despite being made of wood, the weaponry the puppets carried weighed them down because of their ignorance to let go. Trish looked around her for Dante or Trinity, but all that was in sight was a tiny island about 100 yards away that was almost lost in a veil of smoke and night's blanket. She started for it, worry begging her to stay yet fatigue compelled her to it for she knew she could rest once she reached it.

Trinity surfaced next, her hair matted down covering her face. She brushed it away from her eyes and sputtered up water, grateful to be breathing again. Confused, she swam backwards for a few feet to get away from the disastrous, sinking ship but also to view it from a safe distance. In a few minutes Ruhige Reise would be a memory, and the story would dwell on the fact of its irony.

"My God…" she said in a low whisper, scenes of the fire reflecting in her dark eyes. She noticed Trish swimming away and decided to follow her, trusting that she knew where Dante was. As she turned around, Dante exploded from the water along with the little light happily orbiting his head. She had been startled too heavily to scream in time. Placing a hand over her heart, she sighed in relief and beckoned him to follow her by way of gesture. A little overtaken by the sinking ship himself, he lingered only a moment before he followed her to shore.



Dante sat on the shore with his head buried between his knees, furious. Yet his anger reaped benefits because he was healing himself in the process. He sat there, speaking not a word to Trish or Trinity, staring at the sinking ship until the water had swallowed it completely. His wet clothes were pasted to his frame, water dripping from every inch of his body, rolling down his nose, into his eyes, from his hair-everywhere.

Trinity sensed the uncomfortable air on the island and spoke not, resting quietly against a tree off to Dante's left, her arms folded across her chest. Wet, tired and unarmed. All of them were more than vulnerable at this moment, but the bright side was that the light had returned, stupidly hovering over Dante's head. She cast an evil eye on Trish who was not far enough away from her, staring into the sea as well. She was in no way responsible for any of the events that happened, but it was the mere fact that her selfishness and lack of trust had surfaced at such an improper time. Trinity was more than insulted. She slid down to the base of the tree, dragging her fingers through her knotted hair.

Trish, deciding that they were silent long enough, said thus: "What do we do now?" She looked more to Dante than Trinity for an answer, but got no response from either of them.

"What's the matter with you two?" She demanded. Dante looked up at her with a blank expression, then brought his attention back to the sea before him.

"No, Trish. What's the matter with you?" Trinity growled, never looking in her direction.

"What?"

"You know what the hell I'm talking about." The more she spoke the angrier she became. Dante made no effort to cease this brewing argument, for he was channelling all his energy to suppress his own anger. Trish started toward her, refusing to admit to her actions.

"What are you getting at?"

Trinity was in no mood to tolerate nonsense nor continue a conversation that was to indefinitely end in dispute. She raised her hand to Trish, pushing her back before she got within ten yards.

"Keep your distance," she declared in a very flat, warning voice that promised a nasty retaliation if she felt threatened. Trish, appalled that Trinity had used her powers against her, seemed to be charging up a retaliation of her own. But much to her surprise, Dante latched onto her arm and pulled her into the sand with him, straddling her and pinning her arms flat. Completely taken off guard, she stared into his angry eyes, surprised and shocked look about her.

"Stop it Trish!" he roared. He had never taken down or ill- treated a woman in his life but that was perhaps a humanistic tendency of his. Right now however, it was losing to a demonic wrath that had no regard for sex.

"Nothing, Trish. We have nothing!" Dante didn't know if we was trembling because he was wet or because he was so enraged at their loss. Alastor, Force Edge, the shotgun-everything they once possessed went down with the ship. All of it belong to the sea now. He exhaled heavily, suddenly stricken with realisation that he had frightened her and he looked away from her face, loosening his grip.

"Nothing but each other right now." His voice became gentle, as did his touch. Opposing verbal apologies, he pleaded for forgiveness with his eyes and gently stroked the hair from her face, again disappointed in himself that he had turned so violent toward her.

"Please, Trish…" It was not a plea, it was more of an unspoken promise he wanted her to make, sprinkled with a dash of apologetic tone. It could have been interpreted as either. Still a little taken, she nodded, and he pulled himself to his feet. He looked to Trinity recognising she was currently feeling too callous to care about what they said or did.

"No more," he finished, referring of course to any future disputes, and started to walk into the water until it was up to his knees, then waist, then under his arms until he dived finally, disappearing from sight in a moment. He was going to retrieve what was rightfully his.

Glad that Trish had been reprimanded promptly by Dante, the fire in Trinity's eyes went out and she wished nothing more than to forgive her now, but the reoccurring memory refused to allow her to let it go. Unconsciously adding insult to injury, she said knowingly, "as opposed to making your own destiny, you're living your life according to everything Rayne said."

Trish, finally admitting to it, nodded her head yes.

Trinity nodded as well, batting at the little light that had adopted her since Dante's absence. A simple light, one purpose it served so it seemed, yet when Trish had it she could not part with it. And now that she didn't have it, she had no desire to possess it again.