A/N: This beautiful poetic-letter was originally meant for me from a friend, but since it was so beautiful, so touching, I created it for Lady and Dante, because I wondered if..if Dante were to have written something like this to Lady? When she decided to leave?
Lady,
Oh, before you leave I promised you
some questions that you can answer at your leisure.
Or not at all.
I've always thought that questions left unanswered
can be so poignant. Or the questions are so telling.
I also wanted to note, in case I don't get the chance to
in the future, how wonderfully seductive a thinker and person
you can be. Don't think for a second that I haven't noticed
and enjoyed it.
I've enjoyed your wit, enjoyed flirting with you
if but only in words alone.
Let no daggers belay my words and no sword
shall pierce your psyche.
No lies from my tongue shall slip.
Would my words be as deliciously sweet as you?
When you were young, what did you want to be?
What did you think the first time you saw yourself in a mirror?
Do you believe in destiny or freewill?
But have you ever experienced precognition?
Is Chance and Coincidence reason enough why people meet or
where we come from and experience the things we individually do?
Or do you believe in angelic messengers?
Messengers that bring you signs meant to guide you
should you perceive and receive those signs...
messengers that may inhabit a person for a second
to share word of advice or warning,
or inhabit a person entirely for all time.
Is that possible?
What was your first memory of?
Shall I share mine?
I was only crawling, crawling upon the living room
carpet. When I spotted a spot of sunlight brightly dwelling upon.
I stared at that spot of sunlight and was transported
in thought: I saw me brother. We
were in school (we actually were). I saw the
details of the school, the desk, the clock upon the wall,
the blackboard, the green color and westwardly orientation
of the school itself.
Remotely I viewed my brother in one room, me in another.
And when I was old enough to go to school myself,
I knew exactly were everything was.
Have you noticed the mystical direction of these questions ?
Ok,I'll be more practical.
What's your favorite color?
What's your favorite Ice Cream flavor?
What's your favorite clothing material?
What's your favorite animal?
What's your favorite song?
What's your favorite author?
What's your favorite movie?
What's your favorite food?
What's your favorite sexual position?
What's your shoe size?
Would you rather I ask more mystical question instead?
If you could be any person, present or past, Who ?
If there was anywhere in the world you would like to be most, Where?
If you could travel to, or live in any era in time, When ?
If you could vanquish one sport forever from the face of the earth, Which ?
Do you enjoy my company? Why ?
If I asked you to leave with me and everything you've known and come with me, would you? How?
What is the wonder of the 7 Wonders of the World?
What time is when? What place is where? What person is who?
What reason is why? What manner is how? What choice is which or whether?
If an attractive man were to stare at you, not rudely
or intrusively, but with a kind of longing, a desire burning...
what do you think that man is thinking?
What is what?
Do you know?
Is it curiosity, the seeking of knowledge, the desire to understand
and the need to have that desire fulfilled?
Is it just the asking of a questions?
Have you ever noticed that some questions answer themselves?
Have I made you feel wanted as a woman, or liked as friend, or
respected as an equal, or admired as a person?
I wish you well,Lady ...Dante Sparda
LADY AKA MARY
She fell from the sky; head first and red boots enclosed around her legs.
Her hair; black as ebony, she wore as short as the demon she swore she'd kill.
With her Kalina Ann and the pistols she owns, not a single demon could face another day.
From her eyes; violet hues of red and blue combined, the same coloring as the twin brothers opposing clothes.
They sparkle with hate and fury, to drive the demons away from her father.
Only to find that demon worse than any has become the man who calls himself her kin.
She fell from the sky; head first and red boots, fighting against gravity.
Her hair a contrast to her pale skin; scarred slightly in places where bottom feeder demons might have swung too close.
Her nose straight and small; a line of scar evident from her past, reminding us of her humanity,
She is Lady, whom the devil from the ground calls.
She is the woman that shot him in the head, made him question his family and honor.
The girl whose eyes sparkled with anger and determination; daring the demon to move out of the way,
She fell from the sky; head first and red boots last, wrapped now in the hands of a hunter; Dante.
He told her this is his kind of rain.
And devils may cry in the end.
