Title: Distance Will Not Betray
Characters: Dante, Tess (OC).
Word Count: 3.977
Summary: It's been a few years since their parting. Tess and Dante contemplate what this distance means for the two of them.
Warnings: Mild to strong language.
Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom. Tess Templar and other original characters belong to me.
Dante chuckles as more demons come for him from the shadows of the burned and demolished warehouse. They go down fairly easily so he figures they're weak; they're probably just more leftovers from that stupid incident with the tower a year ago. These stragglers must be cut off from the Underworld for so long that they've lost most of their power, but they're still too dangerous to leave them loafing around.
Besides, they keep him entertained.
A bigger scythe comes whistling for his neck but he tilts backwards lazily as it passes over him and he casually fires a shot right into that hood staring at him. BANG! The demon utters a dull shriek and jerks backwards. That Vanguard is just so slow. Dante's not sure if he's gotten faster since he first fought these robed freaks or this one's just so slow because it's all tuckered out. It could be both.
"Man, you guys are so boring," Dante huffs as he twirls away from the Vanguard's vertical sweep. He turns one arm back and away from him and shoots out another, smaller scythe-wielder trying to sneak up on him. "But I guess after all that shit in the tower, it might take something a bit more special to give me some fun..."
Dante suddenly puts the guns away and seizes his sword. CRUNCH! SHWACK! The smaller demons are all cut down in just a few hits. Except the Vanguard-that one, he's saving for last. He wants to see just how far he can irritate it and just how weak it is.
There's still shit left behind, he thinks. It's been a whole frickin' year and they're still around; Prides, Sloths, Lusts, Vanguards-hell, even Abysses and Bloodgoyles, leftovers from that dumbass tower. Just how many got loose?
The Vanguard proves to be less of a challenge and Dante is pretty sure now that it's because he's gotten better at taking them down, and he's a little bit disappointed by the fact. He makes quick work of it in the end because he's bored and just up and leaves, without even cracking a joke to himself. He's just too bored for that.
He makes his way out of that wrecked neighborhood block, that was crazy close to where Temen-ni-Gru had jutted up in the first place, and crosses town to get back to his new office.
After all that shit last year, I'm lucky that dump was so dirt-cheap. Dude wanted to skip town so bad he nearly gave me the damn place, Dante recalls with an amused smile.
But it's a good office and if he's lucky (or careful, it depends) this time it won't get trashed. It's still smack dab in the middle of the slums and he hasn't even done anything to make the place feel lived in yet, but at least the streets he's on are a bit livelier and a little less backwater. He's nearly reached his office when he looks up and suddenly stops dead on his tracks. Leaning against the wall there on the corner of the street, very close to the alley his office is in, is a girl with fiery red hair. Her back is facing him but she's wearing some form-flattering jeans and a black shirt, probably tied up on the front. Her hair is short and straight, but such a vibrant red that it stands out amid the washed out colors of the city like a beacon.
And it's just so familiar-looking that it hurts.
Caught off-guard, he takes a few hesitant steps closer. Her build looks about right too... but maybe not; who knows how she's changed? He gets closer still and the girl suddenly turns and looks at him over her shoulder and he stops again because it all makes sense. This girl is older than him, maybe she's 25, with hazel eyes and upon looking at her better, Dante realizes her hair is dyed red. She has a fairly big chest and her waist and thighs look like they've done some childbearing already.
"Looking for a good time, honey? I like handsome boys like you," she says. Her voice is husky, weirdly sensual yet tired and Dante can see a cigarette in her hand. Her throat sounds like it's paid for her habit and she has that voracious kind of smile that women who have been doing this for enough time have.
She's actually rather good-looking for a prostitute, but it's not her and Dante feels like he's been had. And of course he has been, except the perpetrator is his own mind, playing a pretty tasteless trick on him.
"Maybe some other time," he smoothly dodges the offer and walks past her. He can feel her persistent gaze on him and it follows him until he turns round the corner, hands in his pockets. When he's out of sight he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. He realizes how dumb he felt back there and cringes.
It's just...her hair was the same red as Tess'. What're the odds? I wonder what the Twig's doing, he thinks and bites his lip a little.
He hasn't thought of her in a while; he's been too busy getting his life in some semblance of order and fighting. Mostly fighting, against his brother, then a megalomaniac seeking power and now all the demons they dredged up in the process. He certainly hasn't been double-taking at every red-head he's seen in the past few years, either; except this one. For some reason, Tess was on his mind today and he hadn't realized till now.
That coven...huh, she never even told me what that is. I hope she hasn't gotten it tough.
He rubs the back of his neck again and thinks about something Tess told him once about her family. "All Templars are either bitches or loons, but they're all wicked at staying alive..." he mutters quietly, smirking. "Yeah, she'll be fine."
A thought crosses his mind that actually bothers him-hurts a little, even. Maybe not entirely happy with that stuff...but she'll be ok. She better be.
He really hasn't thought of her in a while, and for good reason. He doesn't need to dwell on things that hurt, because he's had enough of that over the last year. It's been one bad dog that doesn't want to go down.
That banshee just doesn't want to go down and Tess is really starting to get a headache from all that wailing.
"Why can't you be one of the peaceful banshees, goddamit..." she groans and runs after the fleeing specter. "Singing and blubbing your eyes out for funerals and tricking horny idiots! What's so bad about that!"
No, you have to go and turn malevolent for God-knows-what reasons and torment and kill people-in my back yard! And then laugh at me! The nerve! she thinks. She suppresses an angry snarl.
The banshee finally stops fleeing and cackling at her and Tess can see that haggard feminine face looking at her with black, beady eyes and a malevolent stare. Tess thinks that whoever portrays faerie as aetherial, pretty or cute are all blithering idiots. Sometimes those creatures-the Sidhe as they should be better known-can get malevolent, just like humans, and do the kind of bad things that old folklore warned people about...and worse still that stories don't even know of.
"Go on, shriek if you want!" she taunts the banshee and the creature obliges.
But Tess is not there when the banshee's death shriek rings; she's teleported behind the Sidhe and pulled out a steel dagger. SHUNK! She thrusts the blade into the banshee and the creature suddenly behaves as if she has real, mortal flesh instead of otherworldly substance. Only iron and steel can do that to Sidhe. The banshee thrashes and shrieks again, reaching for Tess but she repels the banshee with a branding hex that hits the Sidhe square in the chest and makes a nasty sound like snapping bones.
She's only twenty and not much in way of size, strength or even experience, but Tess is by no means a hands-off kind of wiccan. She's only just mastered teleportation though, and that short distance has really done a number on her and she's panting like a marathon runner. The banshee's had it, at least, so instead of getting in there and risk having her ass handed to her, Tess feels safer sending the crazed Sidhe off with a banishing hex in the face that will cast her back to where she came from-wherever that is.
The banshee indeed goes but by no means quietly and Tess has to actually cover her ears with her hands from all that ear-piercing shrieking.
"Fuckin' asswipe bitch..." she growls as the banshee croaks her last gurgle and vanishes. She really hates these screaming bitches. They're all shriek, whine and an assload of weeping, but they sure as hell can hurt.
Tess' head is throbbing from all that screaming and her feet are killing her. She looks down on herself. Her jeans are more or less dirty now and there's one big, nasty tear on her knee from where she took a fall and got a bad scrape. Her top and shirt are in better way, although they're gonna need some washing. Other than that though, she's in much better shape than anybody else would've been, in her shoes.
Tess combs some of her short red hair off her face and thinks about that word she's just used-asswipe--and smiles wryly. That's a bona-fide Dante word if there ever is such a thing. It's vulgar and funny all together, exactly as a 'Danteism' ought to be. It's something she learned from him and hasn't used in a long while, just like she's tried not to think about him. Worse yet, it makes her miss him.
Heh...asswipe...
Goddamn little asswipe...where'd that come from? Dante thinks. He has an amused smile when he pulls himself out of that big hole the demon's out-of-the-blue energy shot crashed him through. He's actually chuckling, not because that thing caught him off guard, but because of the stupid situation. What he's fighting here looks a frickin' gremlin, for shit's sake, about as big as a large dog and it sounds like a gerbil being strangled. And the damn thing's fast too, darting around like...
Like a hummingbird on speed, he thinks and almost laughs at that thought.
He ducks out of the hole as the little creep comes darting for him, scissor-like claws and all. It's got a tail with a stinger on the end-probably toxic and a guaranteed shot of pain he doesn't really feel like dealing with. So he raises his gun and shoots it straight in the face, blowing its head into a million bloody pieces. The demon drops on the ground with a rather disappointing thud and starts to dissolve with ugly bubbling sounds. Dante's used to seeing that sort of thing from demons, so he puts his guns away and walks off, heading back to his office.
It's not that he doesn't like the surprise of being jumped all of a sudden; he just wishes it hadn't been right then, when all he really wanted was to get home to his office and sleep on his couch. Then again, better to suddenly have a demon drop out of nowhere like a brick, than have it burst in his office like last time.
Dammit, I was so spaced, thinking about Tess, he thinks, realizing how ridiculous that is. That thing got the drop on me like I was some kinda rookie! Wonder why the Twig's on my mind so much today-it ain't just seeing that girl, I can't stop thinkin' about what she might be up to.
He looks up at his office as he comes near it. It's a pretty old building and it was full of junk when he got it but it's started to clean up alright. When he's got some dough saved aside he'll probably get a nice neon sign up to advertise his eventual business. Technically his business is up and running now but he often finds himself dodging requests because they're either stupid or don't interest him in the least. As he trudges in with a content sigh to be back, he takes off his sword, the guns and his coat, tossing the latter over to a hanger and the former onto his desk.
He can do his thinking and sleep later because getting a shower is all he can think about.
All Tess can think about is that she hates that side job she does only for the sake of some actual money. She knows she takes that resentment out on any demon, undead or other stupid creature that she runs into-heck, she'll take it out on anything. Because it's nothing but eight hours of standing on her feet, listening to things that make kindergarten jargon sound intelligent, carrying drinks, coffees or snacks to what effectively amounts to overgrown babies who are always trying to stick their hands up her skirt or lower her IQ by about 5 digits with every pick-up line that's ever been used before...twice.
This kind of work, what she feels she's better off doing, is what feels good. She walks home with aching legs and sore all over-but content-away from where she got rid of that banshee and wishfully hopes Roy has made something for dinner. He works pretty hard too, keeping a job he also hates, as a janitor, and working his butt off to keep the nosy coven wiccans out of their affairs. On top of everything he has to deal with her terrible moods with a patience that really sometimes makes him saintly. Except he isn't a saint and that's why every so often they have these big, father-daughter type fights that are usually over something stupid, but more and more often over important things like the coven. Tess just hates them all but Roy feels she needs to bury her feelings and roll with it. Except 'rolling with it' has never been something she's particularly good at and she just hates getting him upset because he's all the family she's got left.
That's the other reason why she likes sneaking off and hunting down creatures like that banshee. It's not a business, even though she sometimes does get paid for it, and it's not exactly a hobby either. It's more of a need and Tess always sarcastically thinks it's the only kind of 'therapy' that works for her. It feels like freedom and it feels like a big, bold 'screw you' to the coven and its rules and all that resentment they have for her because she's got the blood of someone who wasn't fully human and yet wasn't a demon in her veins and that's exactly the way she likes it.
I blame Dante for the way I am, she thinks with an amused, yet still angry smile. I wouldn't be such a defying little asshat if he hadn't taught me that being one felt good when you don't know what else to do. It's...keeping me going.
Her feet, sore from these new boots (they're probably going to turn out to be a pretty bad purchase after all), probably blistered on the ankle where the skin's rubbing on the leather and most definitely raw all over the sole of the foot, are killing her. It wasn't just the long hours on her feet today, there's the added hurt from hunting down and then wrecking a hellhound before that banshee. And now she's got that nagging feeling of loneliness that's biting at her heels like an annoying dog.
I'm close to limping for fuck's sake. I wouldn't be surprised if my feet are bleeding! Whoever moron thought of making women's shoes this uncomfortable should get eaten by demons or something...
She can't handle that ache anymore and stops, angrily yanks her boots off and flexes her sore feet; surely enough, they're red and raw on the ankle and the ball of her foot and she cringes. But the cold cobblestone she's stepping on actually feels good. It's been worn smooth by thousands of feet over the years and it's cool and downright soothing. She starts walking again and her limp is just very slight, which makes her happy. Walking barefoot isn't that bad, if you're in the right mindset...
...because it really is something humanity's been doing since childhood. Everyone starts out walking barefoot. Dante walks barefoot like that around his office, a bit impatiently. There's no way he could wear those boots now, as wet as they were after trudging through water, mud and some sludge that he'd rather not analyze even for a joke. He's never been a clean-freak but even he draws a line at something like that and after showering, he tossed them into the tub with hot water and soap. So while they dry, all he can do is trudge around barefoot. Besides, the new office has clean enough floors still.
He drops on his couch with a beer to drink, crossing his legs lazily and relaxing.
Ain't much to do other than sit around and do nothing. Not that I mind, though, he thinks with a smirk. 'S times like these that I miss that Twig. She was always fun to tease and if not, she'd always have some idea to fight boredom. Not always good, but at least she had ideas.
His stomach growls quietly.
Damn, I'd kill for a piece of that crazy Hate Cake she would bake, he thinks and laughs at himself. Wow, never thought I'd crave cake like this.
But then his smile fades and he wonders whether he should've somehow kept her from leaving. But to what end? He leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees and drinking beer. What with what had happened last year, with Vergil and everything, he realizes what a mistake that would have turned out to be.
Hate to admit this...but I'm glad she didn't stay. I don't think I could've kept her safe with all that shit happening. I wouldn't want her involved.
He grimaces and leans back again. I shouldn't think that way. With that logic it'd be better if we never met again because I don't think I'm ever gonna stop getting mixed with demons and shit like that. Maybe she doesn't want that stuff, anyway. I wouldn't blame her, after what happened back then.
He grunts a bit and rubs his face. "Dammit, enough, she can't have gotten like that. Tess' made of tougher stuff... Bet she ain't even thinking about me," he mutters very quietly to quell his thoughts. He wonders what she's up to now, as he stares out his somewhat dirty windows into the street. Wasn't much of a view, but come evening, he has a straight on view of the sun descending to dusk.
Roy asks her if her feet are feeling better and she dully replies that they do, while staring out the window into the dreary little port of the town they live in. It's dingy and almost depressing but it's still a way out of this place so it's a weird little comfort to look at, even from afar. Tess sighs contently and rests her arm on the windowsill while flexing her feet in that salt bath Roy drew up for her when she came home barefoot. He went on a rant about shoes and what kind she wears all the time and then went back to his cat-nap; he may be a djinn but he's still a cat alright. Nothing gets between him and sleeping.
She rarely just sits around doing nothing but this particular time she just doesn't feel like doing anything. She's tired and feeling somewhat blue so she just sits by her window, keeps her feet in the soothing warm water and stares outside.
Funny how I got thinking about Dante today, she wonders and rests her head on her arm. I used to think that it'd just make me depressed if I did but it really isn't that bad. Of course, I miss that bastard but it's not like I'm pining to death here. It'd be embarrassing if I did.
The day rolls away into night as she sits there and at some point Tess hears the croon of some night bird from somewhere nearby. It makes her think of what he could be doing now.
I know he was involved in that story about a tower just sprouting up that I heard... I wish I knew more details. Bet he at least had more fun that I've had in ages... Maybe I will take that trip to the Highlands and have a look at that monastery. It could just be rumors but it might be interesting...
Tess huffs a bit and gets up, steps out of the footbath and dries off her feet on a towel. She tries to push away those thoughts because they're just making her feel lonely and she hates that. She wishes she could make some friend among the coven wiccans but it's impossible with this lack of trust. She hasn't even given them her real name so that they can't cast some spell or hex on her. They don't trust her and of course she doesn't trust them. If she could leave she would have, but she knows that her powers and skills are not what she wants them to be. They're not what they have to be to enable her to be independent of these idiots. She still has things to learn and until she does, she can't go anywhere.
And of course...I'd never go back just to need protection. Screw that. I'd rather not see him again if it meant I was a burden, she thinks sourly and almost throws the towel away. I know I could never stand on even ground with him. But...I want to be able to look at him in the eye.
She leans on the windowsill again and smirks. In fact, I want to be able to kick all kinds of ass. Then I can just leave and go wherever I want. Go...home, even.
She stands straight again and stretches a little, before closing the window. I wonder what he's doing right now?
Relaxing in his office as night falls, Dante indulges in his favorite dinner: Pizza and he thoroughly enjoys the taste of the steaming hot cheese. Wonder what trouble that Twig's getting into right now, he thinks with a smirk. Probably giving it hell herself.
The thought of leaving the city to go find her crossed his mind a little earlier and tempting as it was, he shot it down. He wouldn't know where to begin looking, in the first place. He lived with them for months and yet he learned very little about wiccans. Roy had warned him that wiccans were very secretive people and Dante had figured out why. They were premium hunt for demons and humans did not trust them. Wiccans didn't like sharing their secrets with just anybody, let alone those they didn't trust. Tess had been a novice herself at the time, so anything he knew from her was pretty much small stuff. Since then he'd taken the trouble to learn whatever he could, but his knowledge was more about how to deal with them when they went rogue than understanding their habits. He'd never be able to find her now.
She'd promised she'd come find him when things had settled down for her, but he'd already made up his mind to try and learn how to track wiccans down. Perhaps he could beat her to it.
NOTES: This story is, in its entirety, an experiment that I'd like to believe was successful. First of all, I tried a present tense instead of my usual past tense, to create a sense of immediacy and parallel layout of the scenes. My intent was to mirror the kind of similar lives Tess and Dante wind up living in the years they go their separate ways.
I also tried a method of transition that I first read in Stephen King. I'm a huge fan of his work and even more so of his style and attitude towards writing, so I wanted to try out this type of smooth transitions between scenes. He usually employs it when switching from present to past memories, but I used it in moving between different spaces in roughly the same time frame.