----- A/N -
I do not own "Devil May Cry", or " Bloodrayne" nor any of their characters, so there.
-Years ago -
It wasn't usually his style, talking before a fight. But given his unusual predicament, he was far too amused to be concerned if he was losing his edge.
Staring at the expanse of white ceiling over the bed, starkness broken by a lonely ceiling fan, his mind wondered of what to say first. He wasn't making effort to seem asleep either. No need in trying to fool the thing that could see as well in the dark as he could. A cool breeze was wafting in with the aid of an open window. It crossed his mind that he should have closed it earlier, and before he could stop it, a grin was making it's way across his lips.
Dante had always been the sort to tempt fate. Or at the very least, poke fate with a fork to see if it would get mad enough to chase him. That was how the entire incident began really. While exterminating a nest of particularly nasty Childos demons, he had thought it amusing to use their one of their own demonic artifacts to destroy them, (It happened to be a nifty sword). Then he "accidentally" kept it. See, in his line of work he heard a lot of things. One of those things happened to be that the sword, aged to perfection as it was, was worth a great deal of money. It was also rumored to be a key to an alternate demon world. Not that Dante could care less about the 17th billion key he found the "Woo-ha" dimension, no, mostly he just cared that it was very large. And what boy doesn't like a large toy? Of course the last thing he had heard about this particular mission was where we get to our point.
He had heard the "Brimstone Society" was after that very sword.
Not that he had cared at the time. Keeping a secret society of weird guys in purple robes in his good graces was not top priority on this devil hunter's to-do list. Or at least, at that point it wasn't.
Moonlight was the only source of illumination in the small room. He never really realized how truly tiny his room was until then. It idly crossed his mind that he would have a hard time fighting in such an enclosed area. That was however, not the reason his blood began to pump so fiercely he realized.
No, the reason for that was draped over the ceiling fan with an inhuman grace.
He had collapsed on the mattress after a hard days work almost ten minutes ago. And much to Dante's chagrin, he almost hadn't noticed her. For some reason or another, she didn't take advantage of that. Admittedly he was tired as all hell, and he knew something that smelled like blood, (with an undertone of vanilla) was in the room. But at that point, he didn't really care what or who it was. He was shirtless, but as usual his leather pants had remained. Which of course meant he still had Ebony and Ivory strapped to either leg. Not until the moon crept an inch further down in the sky did he notice the glint off two unique eyes on the ceiling. His first reaction had been to shoot it there and see what fell to the ground, but upon actually discerning the shapes that where attached to those eyes in the dark, he found himself quite reluctant.
Light was beginning to glint off the enormous blade she had let fall from her side. She leaned forward just enough for the moonlight to dance over inhuman red hair and blood red lips framed by an ivory face.
And despite all that tension, and the fact that it was his house, she was the one to speak first. In a blur of movement she dropped from the ceiling to the tip of the bedpost.
"Shhhhhh baby… I'm good at this."