EPILOGUE: The final take
*****
(The Underworld AGAIN!)
"They're not spying on us anymore, Virginte. That device only allows them a short period of time to do some tom-peeking. They won't bother to look in here anymore. You should have won an academy award for your performance."
"I learn from the best." she replies back soothingly, "Besides, what makes you think I was fooling around? I don't like you and I despise hell."
"We'll see about that."
Virgil's voice had grown softer and he makes a half smirk at her. Standing there he waits until she goes into his arms. He didn't have to wait long before she ran to him like a child needing love more than life itself. Virgil buries his head into the bevy of her long silver hair and smells the faint flowerly sweetness of her being. She wasn't real actually; she was a figment of an imagination.
Virginte was an imagination that existed for him and Dante many years ago. She became real because they willed her to be. Their combinative powers was enough to cause this. To will someone as real as her. Just like Trish was a creation of Mundus's demonic powers. It was then that this beautiful silver haired beauty manifested into a physical self into being among the rest of the world and beyond realms.
Virgil whispers against her hair and pushes the bright strands carefully aside. There was an incredible gentleness about him, which was unusual. He was looking into the eyes of a woman that shouldn't have existed yet here she is, here she has been and always will be. She produces a slight pout, making her full dark lipsticked lips seductively kissable.
"Virgil. Are you going to fuck me now?"
He throws his head back and laughs. Even in hell there is a bit of heaven.
~~~The end~~~
****
This is for Virginte:
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love I gain nothing Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud."
----1 Corinthians 13:1-8, 13
(may you be happy in hell)
*****
(The Underworld AGAIN!)
"They're not spying on us anymore, Virginte. That device only allows them a short period of time to do some tom-peeking. They won't bother to look in here anymore. You should have won an academy award for your performance."
"I learn from the best." she replies back soothingly, "Besides, what makes you think I was fooling around? I don't like you and I despise hell."
"We'll see about that."
Virgil's voice had grown softer and he makes a half smirk at her. Standing there he waits until she goes into his arms. He didn't have to wait long before she ran to him like a child needing love more than life itself. Virgil buries his head into the bevy of her long silver hair and smells the faint flowerly sweetness of her being. She wasn't real actually; she was a figment of an imagination.
Virginte was an imagination that existed for him and Dante many years ago. She became real because they willed her to be. Their combinative powers was enough to cause this. To will someone as real as her. Just like Trish was a creation of Mundus's demonic powers. It was then that this beautiful silver haired beauty manifested into a physical self into being among the rest of the world and beyond realms.
Virgil whispers against her hair and pushes the bright strands carefully aside. There was an incredible gentleness about him, which was unusual. He was looking into the eyes of a woman that shouldn't have existed yet here she is, here she has been and always will be. She produces a slight pout, making her full dark lipsticked lips seductively kissable.
"Virgil. Are you going to fuck me now?"
He throws his head back and laughs. Even in hell there is a bit of heaven.
~~~The end~~~
****
This is for Virginte:
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love I gain nothing Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud."
----1 Corinthians 13:1-8, 13
(may you be happy in hell)