The white snow kept falling
Vergil barely slid off the sweat covered back, the normally graceful feet landing with an overly heavy thud on the soft, snow covered soil that could be found on the ground of the manor. Yet Vesta didn't know whether to help him or kick him for he made her sing all the way through that haunted forest, to outvoice those terrible sounds that kept coming from all sides yet strangely never made it close enough to reveal their origins. Her throat was sore from the cold and on top of it she nearly swallowed a bug!
But then he did reach behind several times to pull her back up when she was slipping off and reminded her politely to duck her head when he could have quite easily kept quiet and let the low branch take her head off. It was very strange how he seemed to so steadily drift away from her definition of 'the other kind' yet act almost subconsciously that way, keeping the worst impression of him like a solid mask that he left on intentionally.
That is why she would go there, go inside with him and help him, at least until his brother would arrive and take over. Besides he still hadn't answered her questions, only piqued her curiosity even more, and being in his presence would at least somewhat help ease her childish needs that he so inconsiderately overlooked by coming all bloody and broody to that Irish bar.
At least that was what they called it, childish. Born of her selfish need to be loved as a parentless child, a need that had never been answered. So she took it into her own hands, literally, seeking to be loved through physical means, through touch, words and most often the ritual of sex, disregarding all the consequences bestowed upon her by those that were more than willing to give it. For a while. Until they saw her as a burden, a mere whim, or a toy to use as they saw fit. Yet she just couldn't help it and do it all over again.
So she hoped, hoped for two things. That her unhealthy need might be lessened by staying in the presence of someone too cold and introverted to bestow upon her any affections and if he did then hoping that they would turn out to be a little more lasting and genuine. Prove me wrong, she thought calling it a little experiment as she watched him stumble to the door, growling something at the key that was caked in too much blood to fit in the lock.
"You know I didn't think it was my place to say anything but Dante should have taken you straight to a hospital!" Vesta called out to him, catching up so that he wouldn't close the door in her face since he just managed to unlock it.
"You were correct, it wasn't your place and still isn't now," his tone was dry and cold as he opened the door but then he paused and turned his head back, blue eyes lighting up with consideration as they drifted toward her in a reluctant sideways glance. "You may however turn your concern into some form of usefulness and assist me in repairing the damage."
Splendid! Now she didn't need to charm her way in, only club him over the head for his shameless arrogance. Vergil waited for her to acknowledge an acceptance which she gave in the form of a catty smile and then he entered, leaving the door open.
Vergil dragged himself along the panelled wall by his shoulder, so tired, the pain he felt now a mere discomfort to the inferno he had endured through the snow lit woods. The ride had taken it out of him and he had welcomed her presence for he could not trust himself alone with Dante again in such a weakened state. For he would be less inclined to divulge any secrets as Dante's attention would no doubt be averted in her direction.
After propping the broken katana against the fireplace he peeled the long, raven black trench off his shoulders, sending the bloodied garment to the floor with a pain saturated short hiss.
"So that you know, I am willing to testify that it was all a self defence. I mean those guys didn't give you any choice," came confidently from the dark hall behind him, the door closing with a soft click.
"You are willing…," arctic blues matted with tiny red veins and bitter mirth diverted their attention to the girl. "There will be no enquiry. Not for them… They will omit that nonsensical ceremony and come to me directly for their righteous judgement…," Vergil detached himself from the wall with a sarcastic curl of his lip and let himself collapse onto the antique, dark blue striped sofa. "...and for my execution," voice resembling the lake, calm and shrouded in protective fog just like his fathomless eyes, Vergil began to unzip the black, shredded vest, tugging harshly at the zip when it caught on the drying blood.
Was it a figure of speech? Not knowing what to make of it or how to answer, Vesta said the first stupid thing that came to her mind. "And you will invite them in as long as they don't start singing?"
"You learn fast," his features contorted as he pulled his arms back to take off the vest sluggishly, sliding it over his pallid toned arms that glistened with tiny droplets of perspiration like the morning dew on a window pane.
And you sure are not the shy type either, dammit. Vesta bit her lip as her stomach imploded with hot lava like it did around Dante but without the unpleasant side effects. "Damn, I knew those folks in town looked weird!" she moved closer to the sofa, taking in a deep breath. He just had to make it extra hard, didn't he… "Who was that man Vergil, you know, the one you didn't kill?"
The vest ended up on the hardwood floor, sailing through the air to join the coat unceremonially. Paler than ice blues looked up at her in silent disbelief. "Do you hold your life to such a low merit? Forget what you saw or what you think you saw. There is nothing you can do," his tone darkened as he diverted his attention to his gloves, pulling them off finger by finger, elbows resting on his knees.
"Right. So what can I do then before you ask me very politely to leave?" she gave him a smug face and a short, sharp, resentful sigh.
Vergil dropped the beige leather gloves to the floor and paused. Then his eyes slowly fixated on her. "Bring me the black box, you will find it in the bathroom. First draw on the left. And brandy, from the kitchen. The whole bottle. Then light up the fire…with these," Vergil gestured to his discarded clothes with a flick of his chin, voice languid and inexpressive.
"Oh sure, has your maid quit on you?" she forfeited her customary snort and adorned him with a dubious smile instead.
"She doesn't take well to blood, too vivid of a reminder," he answered impassively.
"Hm, who does? So, is that all?" Vesta added caustically, placing a hand on her bent out hip as she was turned, about to dash off to the bathroom that she saw on her way in.
"No. You can hereupon attend to me and clean up my chest," Vergil laid himself down on his back comfortably with a tired sigh, closing his eyes as if not to give her an opportunity to question what he had just asked her.
Vesta stared at him for a while, then gulped involuntarily. "Yeah, that's a good one," she let out a short agnostic laugh and left to collect the said items, glancing back once more but he gave off no signs whatsoever that he could have been pulling her leg.
Standing in the bathroom Vesta gave a huff at not being even able to look at herself in the mirror to ask what on earth she was doing as it was shattered to thousands of little octagons. Cold and introverted shouldn't have involved asking to poke around his chest! What was she going to do? The Brandy! Yes she should have some…
One narrowed blue eye popped open, the sofa scraped slightly across the floor as one hand pushed against the wall to shift the body into a more bearable position. The pain was making him agitated and he started to feel increasingly restless. What was keeping that girl! He needed the alcohol to calm down right now, the blinding agony of each movement that ripped like fire through his wound and each syllable of that ridiculous song that she no doubt used to aggravate him on purpose, turned a normally relaxing ride to one patented in the most inventive pits of hell.
Just as he was about to roll off the sofa Vesta danced in, sporting a lot merrier mood than she had left with, holding a bottle of Armagnac in one hand, the black box with a symbol in red on its lid in the other, humming beautifully, very much in tune.
Vergil stared at her in dazed awe as her narrow form twirled about the lounge, gracefully zooming past the coffee table. "Why is everyone insisting on making a complete fool out of me!! You subjected me to that heinous noise deliberately!? And stop prancing about like an about to be emasculated horse! It's giving me a migraine!" he snatched the bottle from her angrily as her hand flashed past. Vergil's eyebrows drew into a dangerously crinkly scowl, voice gaining in depth and volume. "And what the hell is keeping Dante!" He pushed his thumb to knock off the cork in her direction, snarling as it bounced off the fireplace harmlessly.
Feeling the fine veins on his temples pulsate unsafely, Vergil quickly tipped the bottle upside down in a faint hope that the alcohol would work extra fast, for his other hand already began to search for something to grab and destroy, nails ripping the fabric of the Victorian sofa to shreds.
"I might just know how to get that grumpy kink out of your mood," she said teasingly suddenly standing next to him, tapping his nose lightly with her forefinger, then her face lit up with the widest of smiles.
"My mood is what I make it, it requires no adjustments from anyone else," a growl made it out past the thin line of his lips as the alcohol wasn't helping and the cold sweat breaking out on his skin began to feel like liquid nitrogen in the chilly air. "Don't you have a fire to make?" he nearly seethed, his breaths becoming short and heavy.
Vesta shrugged and waltzed off to the fireplace, grinning at the shiny pebbles as she took them in her hands and clashed them together. "Hey, what are these, some kind of an invention?" It sparked up a tune in her mind and she cleared her throat. "Youuuuu light my fire…"
"Quiet!"
"You know, your charm is truly dazzling. And I almost started to think that you didn't categorize as a complete assh…," Vesta's flamboyant defences snapped into place but her cheerfulness drained visibly from her face as she turned to him.
He was shaking. And not just shivering but visibly shaking all over, knuckles turning white from grasping the edge of the sofa, the bottle rolling on the floor with a quiet clank. She got up to her feet and came to him, kneeling down to pick up the bottle. It was close to empty. His eyes seemed glazed over as he stared somewhere into mid space, mumbling something about hell and no chance of a submission.
"Damn, that looks really nasty," Vesta ran her finger along the ragged edge of his stab wound that looked ripped to shreds, pulling her lips back in a slightly disgusted gesture as some more blood squirted out and ran down the side. She leaned in to peek inside, quickly recoiling back as she could swear she saw the bottom of his heart beating right inside that bubbling inferno of crimson.
Shaking it off as an alcohol induced imagination she pressed her finger against his cold, sweat drizzled forehead. "I think it might be infected," she surmised, mistaking the gaping hole in his chest for the cause of his feverish symptoms. "That's it, I am calling an ambulance right now!" she frowned, instantly sobering up.
Pulling her mobile from her pocket, she began to dial 999, when her wrist was squeezed so tight the phone fell out of her hand, clattering onto the floor. Vergil fixed his gaze on her, eyes like the hottest flame yet inexplicably they made her feel cold all over. It was a hollow gaze, a blank mind from behind those madness crazed eyes pushing his hand slowly towards her pulsing neck.
Her muscles stiffened as she realised what he was about to do and on impulse she tipped the bottle that she was still holding, the remaining contents splashing straight over his heaving chest.
His eyes blinked rapidly, instantly clearing up as if he was snapped out of a deep trance. He clenched his jaw and threw his head back, bucking up violently as the hard alcohol licked his insides clean like an acid. "Darn woman! Are you trying to kill me?" Vergil snapped harshly, sinking back into the sofa exhaustedly.
"Well you wanted it cleaned up?" she offered him a half guilty lopsided grin, one that spelled that she had no idea what kind of a response would be coming back and was ready to run for her life if need be.
But instead of punching his fist through her face as she expected, he reached for the black box that sat on the coffee table and pulled out an evil looking curved needle that would have not been too small to use on a working horse.
"Then you can finish it and seal it up!" he held the already threaded needle in front of her widening eyes, her browns squinting as he moved the diabolical instrument right under her nose. "Well? You can sew can't you?"
Dante pulled in silently, switching off the engine and lights as soon as the dark outline of the mansion protruded from the twisted shadows of the misshapen trees that lined the serpentine entrance. Holding a bunch of dried wild flowers in one hand he got off the bike and aimed for the faint flicker of light coming from the ground floor window, struggling to penetrate the night through the thick clumps of the falling snow.
Quiet as a mouse he unlocked to door with his secret key that wasn't a secret anymore and stepped into the dark hallway. Not knowing quite why he had stopped for a coffee first and was sneaking in like that, he hoped that maybe Vergil would find it tempting to confide to a stranger if he couldn't to his closest family. Maybe he would catch a snippet of a conversation, or something that would shed more light on what he began to suspect was the cause of Vergil's steady decline.
Only what he heard from the cover of the darkness over the soft crackling of burning wood wasn't at all what he had expected and it made his eyes expand to the size of flying saucers.
"Lower…," a low-pitched, naturally deep voice murmured softly, slipping into a satisfied rumble.
"How is that…," a calming, decidedly feminine voice joined in.
"Mmmmm…harder," it was an uncompromising command purred in the most sensual way.
Vergil? Dante shifted uncomfortably in the shadows.
"I'll go real slow…," the female voice flooded the room like fresh honey, making the fine hair stand on the back of Dante's neck.
"Don't stop," his brother's normally distant voice sounded lost in its entirety in a cloud of pleasure.
"I can do this all night," her words were amazingly convincing, gliding on a sultry voice.
"A few more hours of this and I might even be able to endure your singing…"
A generous slap cut through the warmth of the air. On naked flesh! Dante clamped his hand to his face, rubbing it vigorously, thinking he must have been hallucinating.
"I can feel it slipping back in…," she exhaled, breathing more elaborately.
"Go deeper!"
Unable to take it any longer, Dante leaped out of his hiding, vaulting over the furniture, Ivory sinking harshly into the skin on Vesta's slender neck. "Get your hands of my brother you filthy corruptive vixen!"
A pair of moonstone eyes that re-swirled from a deep contentment to an even deeper murderous intent flashed from under Dante's arm. "Do you ever knock!?"
"What is she doing? I thought your pants were too tight for a woman," Dante proclaimed accusingly with a heavy sarcastic undertone.
"Well, he was rather tight…," Vesta pointed out, her hands still sunk deep into the hard heaps of Vergil's back muscles.
"And you just had to try to fit, did you?" Dante snapped at her peevishly, chin raised up and eyes slightly crazed as the gun slid further into her hair, his other hand holding the flowers right in front of Vergil's face.
Vesta brought her hands up defensively, crossing two fingers. "I swear my intentions were honourable! I really had no idea you two were…uuum…involved?" she glanced back and forth between Vergil, Dante and the flowers.
"What? No!" Dante instantly threw the pleasantly smelling bunch onto the coffee table, the dried petals smacked across Vergil's face in the process. "These are for my mother, not that it is any of your business!" he gave Vergil a meaningful glare while supposedly addressing the girl.
"Yeah nothing is my business around here it seems but I still pay the rent!" Vesta protested, throwing her hands palms up into the air.
"Oh sure, I can see that!" Dante sent her a stern glare, diverting his eyes to the way she was straddling Vergil's lower back with her tightly clad thighs. He was instantly disappointed that she failed to blush.
"Dante, put the gun down! There will be no shooting guests in my house!" Vergil ordered him in a voice riveted with an adamant tone, his deeply flaring eyes presented no alternatives either.
Dante instantly drew Ivory back from the girl's head and gave an impish shrug, grin spreading across his face that was only a moment ago cast in rigidness on par to Vergil's. "Yeah, it's just that I really need to talk to you Verge," Dante twirled the gun expertly on his forefinger before holstering it back behind his bright red coat.
Vergil stared at his brother, not a muscle moved, Vesta stared at Vergil's sweat covered back, wondering just how did she manage to end up in the exact position she tried to avoid so desperately. She got him to turn over to stitch the narrow entry wound on his back after discovering her slightly sadistic side as she drove the hellish needle lavishly through his tattered flesh trying hard to make him flinch or make a sound even just once, but he never did.
Then she simply plunged her fingers into that plethora of intricately weaved muscles finding Vergil's iceberg demeanour somewhat melt under her deeply probing touch as if no one had ever touched him like that before. Nothing could have taken her fingers off at that very moment as she began to run her thumbs up astride his spine and massage those tension packed bundles of hardened flesh, carefully avoiding the stitched up gash that glistened so ominously just under his shoulder blades.
At that same moment Vergil had allowed his eyes to close, wondering how he had just discovered another way to slip into a state of complete calm and relaxation… A back massage. And it couldn't have come at a more critical moment. How could an activity that involved the presence of another prove so un-irritating? The only time he had ever enjoyed company was when sparring with Dante as his simplistic twin always traded half of his childishness for half of seriousness during a fight. Shame he seemed to have lost that ability now… But the girl, she had just upped her status from utterly counterproductive to marginally useful…
"Um, in private," Dante handed his twin his stare back, even more pointedly.
Vergil looked up at Vesta, cocking a suggestive eyebrow. "Oh, don't mind me," she peeled herself reluctantly from his narrow hips and jumped off the sofa with an innocent, light hop, clasping her hands in front of her while biting on her lower lip. Secretly she cursed Dante for coming back at all, she might have persuaded Vergil to relieve her own tension if he hadn't interrupted so soon. The wolf had turned into a lamb under her touch and during those few short moments she was convinced that she could have made him do just about anything…
Both the twins' gazes turned to her as she was just rocking there in between the sofa and the glass coffee table, a barely audible hum escaping from her tightened lips as if lost in thoughts, eyes roaming across the room and the ceiling.
"Right then, I'll just…go…there…woah!" she exclaimed, her hand shooting out at the large furry creature with red beady eyes that just popped out of the kitchen as if it owned the place.
In a flash Dante had Ivory drawn and pointed right between the eyes of the oversized rat but then a sly smirk played across his lips and instead of shooting it he popped the gun back and took a slow stroll to the fireplace.
"No shooting guests in your house, right Vergil? I always wondered if I could quarter it the way you do with Yamato," he was about to grab the white hilt when he felt his gun whipped out from its holster and a single gunshot sliced through the air, ricocheting with an exquisite zip off the tiles in the kitchen.
Vergil gave the smoking gun a spin on his small finger before dropping it expertly back into the safety of the tough leather on Dante's back, then proceeded to depart in the direction of the unlit hallway.
"I thought you said…," the astounded Dante began to file his protests but found himself interrupted.
"I said guests Dante, I do not extend that courtesy to self invited intruders. Keep that in mind as a personal favour," Vergil quirked up an eyebrow meaningfully. "Are you coming or not?"
"Right, I will go and make you some dinner then…," Vesta eyed the rat sporting a hole drilled perfectly in the centre of its unseemly grimacing face and disappeared into the kitchen.
The scowl on Dante's forehead said it all as he followed Vergil reluctantly, shooting a suspicious glance back at the girl before grabbing the flowers. "Rat burgers?" he speculated, rubbing his chin.
"Delicious…," Vergil reached out for a new coat that hung in the hall.
The night was magical as large trusses of snow descended silently and peacefully through the light haze of the moonlight, creating a soft white cushion over the hard contours of the land. Two pairs of boots crunched on the cold surface of the fluffy cushion, leaving behind perfect footprints that lead to the back of the east wing of the old manor house.
A lonely cross came to view, emerging from the deep shadows cast by an ancient, rambling oak that bore more scars than the land it stood on. A hand protected from the cold by soft leather gloves brushed the freshly fallen snow off a thick slab of stone and placed the small bunch of wild flowers on top of the cold black surface.
The snow kept falling, landing on the ground with inaudible tenderness, settling on two figures standing in silence, blending in with their white hair that they wore so differently.
Several minutes passed when Vergil finally cleared his throat. "There was no need to get upset for I did not forget our mutual vow to our mother," his tone was soft and words unhurried as he leaned forward and with a flick of his thumb and a forefinger lit up the slim white candle that was placed in a small silver stand on top of the obsidian stone.
"She isn't there is she…," Dante said almost matter-of-factly as if the words had no weight at all. "I know more than you give me credit for…"
The snow kept falling as pale moonstone eyes stared ahead at the flickering light that was born of a promise of two sons to come together and remember their mother on each anniversary of her birthday. It completely took him off guard, the tightness that gripped his insides became almost unbearable and he tried to counteract it by shifting weight and swallowing the bile that formed in his throat. The feeling of utter despondence however didn't go away, it gnawed tighter and tighter.
"Ignorance is kind, there is only pain in the truth," Vergil managed to say in his customary indifferent manner before gripping his stomach and slumping down to all fours to cough up the contents of his stomach into the pure whiteness of the snow.
"My sincerest apologies, I do not understand how that could have happened…," Vergil's lips trembled and he wiped them off with the back of his hand, completely disregarding the pain that ripped through his chest as a result of the violent reaction.
"Well, you know, usually that's called feelings," Dante came up to him and a firm hand patted Vergil's back. "It's ok bro, next time we will both pretend and we can throw up together," he squeezed his brother's shoulder compassionately.
"How-did you-know?" A pair of eloquent eyes filled with confusion drifted up and Dante felt copper taste in his mouth as the flow of feelings he had never seen in those eyes before made him subconsciously bite down on his tongue.
"Because every year we stand here your mind never rests, it goes off and wanders somewhere else. And you wouldn't do that, you would be at peace if she was here, lying in that beautiful coffin you made."
Vergil pulled himself up to his knees and slowly rose, turning to Dante. His brother was right. He knew a lot more than Vergil gave him credit for and although it made him feel like a complete fool it also gave him a strange sensation of comfort. Yes he was a fool as he was being the weaker of the two all this time…
Within a few moments Dante watched his brother's eyes change from a turbulent whirl to a stern, empty look that had that strange, frightening light behind it and he knew Vergil was going to go through it again, go through it all and tell Dante what had happened to their mother.
"Don't tell me, I better not know. As you say ignorance is bliss. And I get enough nightmares as it is. Just tell me one thing," Dante rubbed his chin with his gloved fingers, pausing to find his words. "Is that why you keep punishing yourself? Is that why you stopped fighting?"
Their identical eyes stayed locked for a few long moments.
I have never had to put up a bigger fight in my life than now, brother…
"I had made some mistakes in the past. I had used my demonic dispositions in blind haste without fully understanding the consequences. Since my return I had sworn to exercise better control over my abilities even to the extent of not being able to recall them at will. The balance is never right, brother. I struggle to achieve it but I will find it eventually," a small note of bitterness played in his voice, a trace of a rueful grin etched on his face as he averted his eyes.
Dante observed his brother for a while, trying to process the meaning of his words before responding. "Right. But there is still something that's really eating you and it has nothing to do with…whatever it was you just said," he walked around Vergil to look him straight in the eye.
Vergil broke the contact yet again and turned his head to the grave. "I need to say goodbye. I have not been given the opportunity to bid my farewell and I never will because the only place I will end up in is hell and that is not where I would find her…"
"Yeah, that sucks. I didn't understand it then when she said it to me but I suppose it did make a big difference once I did understand," the younger twin dropped his eyes down, poking his foot in the snow. "I don't know what to say Verge," his voice was growing small. Then he looked up and opened his arms, eyes flickering with compassion. "Need a hug?"
It was like a burning shard that ripped through his heart at that very moment and Vergil nearly flinched at the memories it stirred within him. He remembered what he had carved out on the dining table and etched a mental warning on his mind to erase his note to his brother as soon as opportunity allowed. What was he thinking?
Instead of the answer he began to crave to give, Vergil turned his head back and held his hand out in objection. "Please, I am not that desperate!"
"Aww, you remembered," Dante teased, his grin widening as he made a few steps closer to Vergil, arms still wide open, laughing when Vergil skilfully avoided his embrace by a light footed manoeuvre.
"Yes, I have the misfortune of remembering the most annoying moments," Vergil sighed in frustration but Dante knew his brother's memories were not always that painful.
"C'mon, I'm starving. Even the rat burgers seem heavenly right now," Dante patted his stomach and began to slide his feet across the compacted snow back towards the house.
"Perhaps there is something I need," Dante span back in surprise at his brother's insecure tone and he almost lost balance, slipping on the compressed snow that was turning to hard ice.
His face lit up with careful expectation. All of his previous attempts to talk to his brother about what had gotten him into such a reclusive and depressed state had been unsuccessful up until now, yet even though he was finally getting some snippets of an explanation he couldn't help the feeling that behind it all there was something far worse. Vergil would never change his mind purely out of his own need, there had to be a good reason, like something bad about to happen very soon that gave him a reason to talk and it nearly made him feel like following Vergil's example and puke.
But since his stomach was rather empty Dante decided instead to keep a much closer eye on his brother from that point on. In the meantime he just tilted his head as a signal for Vergil to spill it out.
"I need you to promise me you will never enter hell, no matter what reasons may ever arise, no matter who asks you to, even if it was me," Vergil's voice at that moment was more chilling than the air around them and darker than the coat that draped all the way down to his heels as he stood there unmoving like a statue carved out of ice with ferocious, intensely burning eyes.
Dante found himself agape as that was not at all what he had expected, not that he quite knew what to expect in the first place. Did all of this, what was happening to his brother, have to do with hell? But hadn't Vergil just told him it had to do with finding a balance? But what the hell did that mean? And fuck the fucking puns!
"Sure I promise Verge," Dante said mechanically, still mulling over why Vergil would ask him that in particular. And what did he mean even if it was him who asked it? And why was it that whenever Vergil gave him answers he ended up confused even more?
"It would help if you meant it Dante. Swear on our mother's grave," Vergil demanded, staying rooted in the snow like a fine sculpture, his eyes holding Dante hostage in front of him.
Dante let out a short bitter laugh and shook his head, throwing his hand into the air. "It's empty!" the built up frustration was beginning to show in his voice as he raked his hand through his silver hair, dislodging a large number of snowflakes, then his palm held the back of his neck. Dante's eyes rose to his brother to see his jaw clenched so tight he could nearly hear the bones popping.
"Just tell me why you want this from me and I will promise. And I promise I will mean it," Dante compromised in a softer voice, letting out a shaky sigh. He knew that it had to be connected with his brother's declining state of mind and it distressed him to no end that Vergil was not forthcoming. But he never was, with anything, and second guessing was becoming the only way to gain the truth.
"Man, just give me a hint here…," Dante tried to reason with his stubbornly silent brother although he already knew where that would lead. He would need to ask around and find out for himself.
The snow kept falling with elegant grace, its soft whisper filling in the silence around them.
After a moment that could have been an eternity Vergil's lips barely moved. "Ignorance is kind, Dante…"
The kitchen smelled divine as the fresh scent of venison coiled in transparent swirls whirled up to the vaulted ceiling and the chime of a beautiful tune swept through the room. Vesta danced over the old ceramic tiles with the smoking pot in her hand, pausing as her eyes met with those of the unfortunate creature.
Nothing should die for the way it was created, she thought, promising to give the rat a decent funeral no matter how ugly or scary it looked. Like a sudden flash her stomach was tied into a tight knot and she nearly dropped the dinner onto the floor as she jerked at the dark and sinister laughter that cut through her thoughts. It was so real as if someone was standing behind her. She spun around but her only companion was the eerie silence.
Heart beating fast, she inclined to the side and peeked into the living room. "Who's there? Vergil?"
A voice replied in a low, chilling whisper from behind her neck.
Your funeral will be just as fitting…
Guys? Can you tell me honestly what you think? Do you still like where this is going? Please drop me a line XD _ I made Vergil throw up!!
Five kilos of pure gratitude to those who are reading (just let me know that you do!!) and five tons of hugs & kisses to those who reviewed!! :D You keep me going on! I need your support!!
Now, for the next instalment in the 'How to review guide' series in 3 easy steps:
Step1: Get the competitive spirit going while you press that tempting Review button that gives you an evil wink, come on you know you really want to press it!
Step2: Go hunting for at least two common garden snails, not some dinky ones but the heavyweight champion kind!
Step3: Feel free to paint colourful racing numbers on their shells (muhaha) and then place them in the centre of the keyboard, and ready, steady, SLOW!!! Encouraging shouts are encouraged! The winning snail will get an exclusive appearance in the next chapter!!
Enjoy!! (The suggestion was a courtesy of Tamato, you can blame him for the snail trail!! Bahaha!)
PS: Any more votes for a Cruel World sequel? I would like at least 10 to get inspired so if you liked the first one please vote in my profile, thank you kindly :)
