Authors notes: This is originally dedicated to James Dean. No, not the one who died in a car crash but the one who reviews. ^_^ Thanks to those who gave me suggestions because I have no idea where this is going. I just wanted to create a fanfic for James Dean to make fun of him because he is metaphorically enslaved.
Thank you all for reading and reviewing. It is a great pleasure to recieve reviews because they mean so much to all authors.
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Trish in Tibet (Not for seven years)
Looking over at the horizon atop the mountain, Trish slowly scanned the beauty and magnificence of the spectacular show she was presented. It was such a good feeling to get back to nature again. To feel the rush of the wind, pure and simple, a gift from Mother Earth and the invitation to visit the most respected monasteries in Tibet. Perhaps she should have rented that movie, the one Brad Pitt played in so she can get a feel of the experience before hand. What does it matter anyway, she was a demon and demon's blood ran through her like acid in a car battery, and the awareness brought a sting to her already emotional feelings. She left Dante behind. Memories came in waves to her sub conscious.
***
(Flashback)
Mundus was defeated.
It was over.
The chaos and destruction around them was over. At least for now. Dante rushed to Trish, avoiding the stones and fallen debris around them, he padded over the water, stumbling slightly, reaching out. Trish was so happy, it was plainly written all over her face. The rush she felt inside her was better than what she felt when she tried to kill him. Confusion was beating inside her mind and her heart. She ran to him as he made himself available with open arms. He voiced out one word, one shout among the fallen rubble and the wreckage became a blur around them.
"Trish!"
Yes, well, she thought, running to him, it's not like he had much to say anything else now did he? He held her as she let salt bitter tears fall heedlessly down her cheeks. It was a momentous time. That's when he told her that devils never cry. She was still a devil no matter what he said.
Indeed.
***
(End flashback)
She broke off her daydreaming and realized there was a tiny monkish dude tugging at her arm. Looking down, the man was one of the kind hearted monks who had helped her relax and take refuge in their prayers and learn much from them. Though in truth, her appetite was worse for the wear. Her addiction to sweets and other generous portions of human food were greatly missed. They had three meals a day: morning is a time for tea and a piece of bread. Bread was a bit hard for the teeth but still edible. At noon the monks are provided with thugpa--noodle soup with vegetables. She ate that up real fast too. In the evening they received more noodles and tea again. Trish felt like she would drown in tea. These Tibetan monks need to realize that food is important too to keep up energy.
A demon girl like her needed it for sustenance but for some odd reason, they showed her that the kinds of food she usually indulged in were not necessary. To keep the mind and body in check one had to meditate all day and go to great lengths of prayer and solitude. Listening to the mind and spirit. Well she thought, of course since they had no other energy left but to meditate and sit all day. Sighing, she really needed to practice her mind to be more generous and open minded. Truth be told, she was a veritable cynic.
"Are you ready to come back inside, Trish." The little monk dude replied. He wore a clean crisp pale worn out orange robe that clung to his small stature.
She smiled and nodded.
Heading back towards the zigzagging path to the monastery, her mission was nearly done and took another long healthy breath of the cool fresh air that ran along the mountaintops. She didn't know if she was going to come back to Dante or the Devil May Cry establishment. It had changed to Devil Never Cry but Dante thought it was a lame sign after awhile and it was immediately returned to the original. Maybe she should call Dante to see if everything was alright. There was this nagging feeling in the back of her mind that he might not be alright but she simply vanish them away, knowing that that stubborn demon hunter was quite capable. After all, he did go into Mallet Island and come back alive.
As she walked back, there was a small thought that seeped in her mind,
"With her help he was able to get out alive."
***
Dante winced; the pain shooting through his veins hurt him badly, feeling so immobilized, barely able to see but the woman who he had let his numb body fall over. She was quite strong for someone so delicate looking. He kept it in his memory that his opponent had the ability to read minds and that she had obviously some vendetta against him. But what? The fact that he left her the next morning? He's done that dozens of times with women and though he was not the type to do one night stands he was even more afraid to commit. Damn. What are human females suppose to do with him anyway when they find out he was a demon hunter? It was bad enough that they worshipped the ground he walked on. Trish had warned him about his Don Juan ways and that it would someday come back to bite him in the ass, literally.
This however was a bad case of fatal attraction.
The woman who held his fate was whispering something in his ear and her voice cracked,
"Darling Dante, you can feel the pain, can't you? Yes, my dear, it's ripping through your system. You can't devil trigger and that's a good thing because you'll do a number on me if you could. Now we can't have that going around. No, no, no. You're just so precious like this."
The maddening of her insanity was barely registering in Dante's dazed psyche. He clung on to what information he could take in, yet his vision was blurring and the drug inside him was powerful. She took his face in her hands, holding them still, forcing him to look at her.
"Yes, you are going to pay for everything you've done to me, Dante. You're going to feel the pain I've been feeling for so long. I won't even shed a tear when you're finally gone from this world. No more devil hunting for sweet ole' Sparda and the powerful Sparda line will no longer be spread out to destroy demons. But first, I shall play a little game with you."
She gave him a quick kiss and laughed. Her servant came running into the room, and Dante's half closed eyes shifted to him, noting his appearance; a shorter man with large eyes and a limping gait. The shorter man groveled at his mistress and did everything she asked. It was like watching a horror flick with the woman being the bearer of manipulative means. Obviously her thirst for power went beyond the normal means of typical revenge. This plan was concocted for a long time. That much was clear to his bemused mind. He wondered how long he could withstand the drug that was coursing through him. Their voices were becoming fainter, like echoes, exactly how he felt when he had a fever so long ago with his mother caressing his temples, soothing him to sleep. The remembrance of that ripped through him and nearly sent him to oblivion but he clung on.
"You stupid fool! You gave him too much!" screamed the woman to her servant.
"I gave him as much as you told me to, mistress. I only do what you ask to please you."
She smacked him on the head, sending him cowering in the corner, his one eye opened up to look at her, "Please, please, don't torture me. I swear I only gave him enough that was needed."
"Oh stop thinking I'm going to torture you! The only one I'm interested in torturing is Dante. Not you! Now get over here and help me prop him up. I want to undress him."
"Mistress. Undress him?" His one eye opened up slightly larger.
She rolled her eyes, feeling the slight pulse of her temple pulsating from the sheer stupidity she has to deal with. "Yes, you fool! Undress him! My darling Sparda will enjoy the wonderful tortures I have prepared for him."
Reaching out to peel his red jacket, her hands shook slightly, fanning out to feel the strength of his shoulders now slooped over her, his silver strands hanging over his eyes and ragged breathing became a slow slight breath. She must have him more coherent or else it'll be no fun!
Slapping his cheeks with the palm of her hands, she tried to wake him. Dante moaned, opened his parched lips and asked for water, anything to drink. He only had a bottle of whiskey earlier and it did no good for his thirst. The drugs only made him thirstier and forming a few incoherent words were all the devil hunter could utter.
"Please. I am so thirsty."
Chuckling, the woman's lips formed a grin, realizing to her own small horror that she was glad he was able to talk at all. Despite the fact that she loved to see him grovel for a drink, there was also the feeling of sadness if he faded before she could make use of him.
Thank you all for reading and reviewing. It is a great pleasure to recieve reviews because they mean so much to all authors.
____________________________________
Trish in Tibet (Not for seven years)
Looking over at the horizon atop the mountain, Trish slowly scanned the beauty and magnificence of the spectacular show she was presented. It was such a good feeling to get back to nature again. To feel the rush of the wind, pure and simple, a gift from Mother Earth and the invitation to visit the most respected monasteries in Tibet. Perhaps she should have rented that movie, the one Brad Pitt played in so she can get a feel of the experience before hand. What does it matter anyway, she was a demon and demon's blood ran through her like acid in a car battery, and the awareness brought a sting to her already emotional feelings. She left Dante behind. Memories came in waves to her sub conscious.
***
(Flashback)
Mundus was defeated.
It was over.
The chaos and destruction around them was over. At least for now. Dante rushed to Trish, avoiding the stones and fallen debris around them, he padded over the water, stumbling slightly, reaching out. Trish was so happy, it was plainly written all over her face. The rush she felt inside her was better than what she felt when she tried to kill him. Confusion was beating inside her mind and her heart. She ran to him as he made himself available with open arms. He voiced out one word, one shout among the fallen rubble and the wreckage became a blur around them.
"Trish!"
Yes, well, she thought, running to him, it's not like he had much to say anything else now did he? He held her as she let salt bitter tears fall heedlessly down her cheeks. It was a momentous time. That's when he told her that devils never cry. She was still a devil no matter what he said.
Indeed.
***
(End flashback)
She broke off her daydreaming and realized there was a tiny monkish dude tugging at her arm. Looking down, the man was one of the kind hearted monks who had helped her relax and take refuge in their prayers and learn much from them. Though in truth, her appetite was worse for the wear. Her addiction to sweets and other generous portions of human food were greatly missed. They had three meals a day: morning is a time for tea and a piece of bread. Bread was a bit hard for the teeth but still edible. At noon the monks are provided with thugpa--noodle soup with vegetables. She ate that up real fast too. In the evening they received more noodles and tea again. Trish felt like she would drown in tea. These Tibetan monks need to realize that food is important too to keep up energy.
A demon girl like her needed it for sustenance but for some odd reason, they showed her that the kinds of food she usually indulged in were not necessary. To keep the mind and body in check one had to meditate all day and go to great lengths of prayer and solitude. Listening to the mind and spirit. Well she thought, of course since they had no other energy left but to meditate and sit all day. Sighing, she really needed to practice her mind to be more generous and open minded. Truth be told, she was a veritable cynic.
"Are you ready to come back inside, Trish." The little monk dude replied. He wore a clean crisp pale worn out orange robe that clung to his small stature.
She smiled and nodded.
Heading back towards the zigzagging path to the monastery, her mission was nearly done and took another long healthy breath of the cool fresh air that ran along the mountaintops. She didn't know if she was going to come back to Dante or the Devil May Cry establishment. It had changed to Devil Never Cry but Dante thought it was a lame sign after awhile and it was immediately returned to the original. Maybe she should call Dante to see if everything was alright. There was this nagging feeling in the back of her mind that he might not be alright but she simply vanish them away, knowing that that stubborn demon hunter was quite capable. After all, he did go into Mallet Island and come back alive.
As she walked back, there was a small thought that seeped in her mind,
"With her help he was able to get out alive."
***
Dante winced; the pain shooting through his veins hurt him badly, feeling so immobilized, barely able to see but the woman who he had let his numb body fall over. She was quite strong for someone so delicate looking. He kept it in his memory that his opponent had the ability to read minds and that she had obviously some vendetta against him. But what? The fact that he left her the next morning? He's done that dozens of times with women and though he was not the type to do one night stands he was even more afraid to commit. Damn. What are human females suppose to do with him anyway when they find out he was a demon hunter? It was bad enough that they worshipped the ground he walked on. Trish had warned him about his Don Juan ways and that it would someday come back to bite him in the ass, literally.
This however was a bad case of fatal attraction.
The woman who held his fate was whispering something in his ear and her voice cracked,
"Darling Dante, you can feel the pain, can't you? Yes, my dear, it's ripping through your system. You can't devil trigger and that's a good thing because you'll do a number on me if you could. Now we can't have that going around. No, no, no. You're just so precious like this."
The maddening of her insanity was barely registering in Dante's dazed psyche. He clung on to what information he could take in, yet his vision was blurring and the drug inside him was powerful. She took his face in her hands, holding them still, forcing him to look at her.
"Yes, you are going to pay for everything you've done to me, Dante. You're going to feel the pain I've been feeling for so long. I won't even shed a tear when you're finally gone from this world. No more devil hunting for sweet ole' Sparda and the powerful Sparda line will no longer be spread out to destroy demons. But first, I shall play a little game with you."
She gave him a quick kiss and laughed. Her servant came running into the room, and Dante's half closed eyes shifted to him, noting his appearance; a shorter man with large eyes and a limping gait. The shorter man groveled at his mistress and did everything she asked. It was like watching a horror flick with the woman being the bearer of manipulative means. Obviously her thirst for power went beyond the normal means of typical revenge. This plan was concocted for a long time. That much was clear to his bemused mind. He wondered how long he could withstand the drug that was coursing through him. Their voices were becoming fainter, like echoes, exactly how he felt when he had a fever so long ago with his mother caressing his temples, soothing him to sleep. The remembrance of that ripped through him and nearly sent him to oblivion but he clung on.
"You stupid fool! You gave him too much!" screamed the woman to her servant.
"I gave him as much as you told me to, mistress. I only do what you ask to please you."
She smacked him on the head, sending him cowering in the corner, his one eye opened up to look at her, "Please, please, don't torture me. I swear I only gave him enough that was needed."
"Oh stop thinking I'm going to torture you! The only one I'm interested in torturing is Dante. Not you! Now get over here and help me prop him up. I want to undress him."
"Mistress. Undress him?" His one eye opened up slightly larger.
She rolled her eyes, feeling the slight pulse of her temple pulsating from the sheer stupidity she has to deal with. "Yes, you fool! Undress him! My darling Sparda will enjoy the wonderful tortures I have prepared for him."
Reaching out to peel his red jacket, her hands shook slightly, fanning out to feel the strength of his shoulders now slooped over her, his silver strands hanging over his eyes and ragged breathing became a slow slight breath. She must have him more coherent or else it'll be no fun!
Slapping his cheeks with the palm of her hands, she tried to wake him. Dante moaned, opened his parched lips and asked for water, anything to drink. He only had a bottle of whiskey earlier and it did no good for his thirst. The drugs only made him thirstier and forming a few incoherent words were all the devil hunter could utter.
"Please. I am so thirsty."
Chuckling, the woman's lips formed a grin, realizing to her own small horror that she was glad he was able to talk at all. Despite the fact that she loved to see him grovel for a drink, there was also the feeling of sadness if he faded before she could make use of him.