i don't own Dante or Vergil. There some implied sex here and later on the story there will be some Vergil x Dante and it won't be pretty... just warning you before you get too much into the story (:
Dante walked the deadened streets with his fists squarely shoved in his leather trench coat. It was somewhere around midnight, he had drunk quite a few whiskey shots in a bar somewhere behind him, and for a few minutes of his life he felt good. Until he realized that he was alone, both metaphorically and literally, and the wave of sadness over took him.
Thought New York City was always loud, Dante always seem to be walking the streets at the right time that it appeared there was nobody was around. He didn't take it completely personal; he was used to people be scared of his appearance. There was nothing physically deformed or anything like that about him, but most people thought the combination of pale silver hair, light almost ice blue eyes, and pale skin made him very particular. It was this—among other things—that made him live his life alone. He tried to think happy thoughts, but most were washed away as the liquor started to churn in his stomach. Oh this isn't going to be as pretty coming up.
Dante stopped his tracks, lean his head and right hand on the nearest brick wall, and puked. He felt like his stomach had been completely turned inside out, spilling all of its contents on the ground below. He deserved this of course, because he knew anything past 6 shots would get him to this very position and he still continued to drink after he had reached six. Glutton for punishment, in a dire need to feel alive, this was a weekly event. Some people slit their wrists. Others turn to drugs. And Dante, Dante drank enough to make himself puke. It was only then that the organs inside him seem to work, to churn and disturb, in an attempt to past the foul things he had drank once again. If he was mortal, he might have cared about his liver, or his stomach lining, but since death was nearly impossible for him, pain was the only option.
After puking two more times, Dante continued on his path. He wiped his mouth on a handkerchief he kept in his jacket pocket for that very purpose. Loneliness settled in and he wished he had a bottle of whiskey with him right now. It might not be human skin, but it held the same warmth and comfort Dante was looking for.
He turned down the next street, on his way back to his apartment. He was kinda shocked to see someone else on these streets. His neighborhood wasn't a place you wanted to be if you valued your life. And that was the second reason Dante did this weekly. If silver bullets killed werewolves, maybe there was something out there mankind could create to kill him.
He focused on the person, hidden in the shadows at the apartment complex across from his. He believed it was female-seemed too short to be like the males that lived in this area. When the figure came out of the shadows slightly, probably to look at him, he could see if was definitely a female. With an amazing figure, strong and muscular but not boarding sickening. She had long dark hair, and it was tied back into a ponytail. She walked carefully, not because she was over stepping the used needles that littered the ground but she had an air about her like she was fragile. A china doll.
He got to a couple hundred yards from her, and he was certain now she was staring directly at him.
"Little lady, these aren't streets you want to be out on at night. Even the whores know not to come in this neighborhood." He couldn't see her face, but by the way she pivoted all her weight to her right foot and threw her hands on her hips, he could tell he had said the wrong thing.
"You don't think I can take care of myself?" She called back.
"I have no clue. But I thought I'd give a friendly warning. That way I won't feel so guilty when I see your face in the newspaper as a murder victim."
He could hear her growl, a sound that made his heart start to beat slightly fast. She definitely was not from this neighborhood. Instead of crossing the street to his apartment, he continued towards her. He had to see this girl… she fascinated him.
He came within a few feet of her; just enough for the light from the sidewalks illuminate her. She had an hour glass figure, with a smallish waist and nice hips. Her breasts were big, not enormous, but enough for Dante's liking. She had a muscular physique, with thick thighs and strong arms. Her clothes were a plain red shirt that was tight around the chest and seem to just float everywhere else. Her jeans were a pale blue and looked like she might have painted them on.
He was tempted to ask her to turn around so he could see her ass, but he figured no matter how drunk she thought he was, he would get the crap beaten out of him for a comment like that. She gave him the once over too, stopping for a few seconds at his exposed chest, but focusing most her time on his eyes. She opened her mouth briefly, but closed it almost immediately and Dante had a sudden urge to swoop next to her and open that mouth again. Damn he needed more friends.
"What are you doing out here all alone?" She asked her voice soft and whispery. He thought he could register it was quiet; he could still make out each word perfectly.
"On my way back to hell." He paused. "You?"
The left corner of her lips slowly creped upwards, like she was attempting to stifle a smile but was having a hard time doing so. "Hell, eh? You must live around here." Dante gestured with his head to the left, toward his apartment complex. "Ah, prime property in hell. Must be nice."
"It's a roof." Dante replied.
"What's your name?"
"Dante." He replied again.
"Quite talkative Dante." She pivoted her weight back on to both feet, and let her hands fall to her side.
"I'm not used to people caring." He paused, giving her the chance to speak if she wanted to. She didn't jump right in, so he continued. "And you are?"
She seemed uncertain to speak her name, and looked briefly over both of her shoulders. "Accalia." She said finally, in one quick breath.
Dante tilted his head. "Accalia. What an unusual name."
"It makes life more interesting. It's Greek."
"Yeah. Isn't it the name of the mother of Romus and Remus?"
"Foster mother, but yeah basically."
"Interesting."
"My parents loved history."
Dante kinda shrugged and they enveloped into silence for a few seconds. It was Dante who spoke next. "And what is a nice woman like you doing in hell?"
"Isn't that where we all get sent?"
Dante smiled. "If you die." Was his reply, thinking of his own hopes for a quick end.
Accalia laughed, and threw her hair off her shoulder. "Very true. I'd like to think some men must walk these earths forever."
"Puts your mind to ease that there will always be humans?"
"No, so I know there are men out there just as damned as they've made me." She chuckled lightly, and bowed her head. When she lifted it, she looked directly into his eyes, her own blue shining brightly. "Present company, of course, excluded."
"I would hope so. I've done nothing, but warn you of the dangers of this area. Perfect example is me myself."
"I should be afraid of you?" she asked, with a new tone added to her voice. Either he had been lonely for too long, or she was adding seduction to the conversation.
"No, I harm no one. Unless they harm me first."
"Well, Dante from Hell, I have no plans on hurting you, or anything else for that matter. I was just leaving." And with that, without so much as a goodbye, she started to walk down the road, swaying slightly with her china doll walk. Dante wanted to call out, say something to her, but he couldn't quite find his voice. A couple hundred yards from him, she turned around, and called back, "Your parents must have really loved each other to create such a child like you. You are a rare one, Dante." And she continued on her way. He was so stunned by her words, that it wasn't until she was gone and his concentration on her movements broken, that he whispered back, "What do you know of my parents?" Shaking his head, in attempt to get the image out of his mind, he staggered over to his apartment. Up the four flights of stairs, he entered his apartment, flopped his body on the bed, and passed out.
He slept for nearly eleven hours, all completely dream less. It was a rare night for that to happen; he was usually haunted by the past. He woke up slowly, surprised that the clock by his bed read noon. He laid in bed for a little bit, trying to focus on Accalia's face again. It felt so surreal that he wondered if in his drunken state he had just made her up. It had happened before, usually when he was alone in his apartment with nothing more that nudie magazine in front of him. But it felt too real to be fake, and too weird to be true that he tried to just shuffle everything out of his mind. It didn't work well, and as he staggered to the kitchen to make some eggs he kept echoing her words in his mind. "Your parents must have really loved each other to create such a child like you. You are a rare one, Dante." How could she possible know anything about him? It wasn't like his parentage was a badge on the shoulder, it wasn't like he wore a sign that said 'immortal, please shoot me'. But still she could sense something had been different about him…
He ate his scrambled eggs in big spoonfuls, not bothering to swallow. He knew he shouldn't do it, but the urgency to ask her more questions over ran his sense. He had to find her again, to speak with her. Was it possible after all these years that he had actually found someone like him? It seemed too good to be true.
Breakfast, like always, was done quickly and washed down with a glass of juice. He had no clue where to start, only in the direction she had left.
He grabbed a white tee shirt from his room, grabbed his jacket, and was throwing them both on when he made his way of his apartment. He could hear the daily sounds of the people living with him: a child cry, a couple screaming, and a mother yelling at her son.
He was sure he was quite a sight for this neighborhood when he first moved in a few years ago. His usual outfit--actually only outfit--consisted of black leather pants, his red and black leather trench coat, and black leather army combat boots. He wore a shirt sometimes, but usually forgot. He liked no shirt better anyways, his blood was always a few degrees warmer than a normal human and he hated feeling like he was in an oven. The neighborhood men tried to scare him out of the apartment when he first moved in, but once they tried to stab him in the chest and he still kicked the crap out of all five, they just ignored him. Just like Dante wanted.
He took a left down his street, toward the direction Accalia had been leaving. He got the end of the block, cross the street in front of a car and continued perpendicular to his street.
"I know," he mumbled to himself, "that down here is the Russian district. If I go far enough of course. But she didn't appear to be Russian. Nor do I think she would walk eight or so blocks to end up on my street. Unless she's dealing drugs. But by herself? With a figure like that? Damn, she is either really strong or doesn't care about being raped."
He had gone a block or so, when something inside him told him to stop. Instinct. He looked to his left and to his right, as people cursed him and shoved him to get around. He paused there for a few seconds, then spun around on his heels, and nearly jumped back a foot when he came face to face with Accalia. She was so close that the faint breath from the cold air hit him on the chest.
"Well, if it isn't Dante from Hell. What are you doing here?"
She caught him completely off guard, and he had to take a second to calm himself down. Not a good sign, since he had always prided himself on being ready for anything at any time. He swallowed a lump that was starting to form in the back of his throat and muttered, "Taking a walk to get some fresh air."
She chucked again, and Dante noticed she had a dimple on her left cheek. "You don't look like a person who gets much fresh air. Or needs it."
"Exercise is good for everybody."
She looked down from his eyes for a second to peer at his chest. Though covered now, he was certain she was thinking of the six pack and developed pecs he had. "I don't think you need that either."
He tried to change the subject. "Have you been following me?"
"No, my house is near here. I was out getting some lunch and noticed you. I was about to tap you on the shoulder, but you spun around before I could do anything." She smiled faintly and looked back up to his eyes. He noticed something about her own that had been hard to see in the dark. Most people with blue eyes had some other color in the mix, like green or brown. But hers were pure blue, almost like someone had taken a blue crayon from the box and colored her eyes in. "You were looking for me, now weren't you?" She bobbed her head to a side, bouncing quickly off her heels. Dante couldn't help but notice her boobs rise and fall with her. It appeared she was wearing no bra, but her breasts were so perky he wasn't quite sure.
His cheeks started to slowly heat up and he was sure he was turning a bright red. He bowed his head quickly, hoping to hide it. Damn it, he was supposed to be in better control than this. "No, of course not. A man can't take a walk in New York City?"
"A man is allowed to, but I know a liar when I see one."
Dante was sure his cheeks were still red, but he looked up anyways, back into her eyes. New topic, Dante…. "What did you mean about my parents last night?"
She cocked her head to one side, looking funny, almost in disbelief. "Have you never heard of the legend of a child with white hair?"
"Um… no. That's why I'm asking."
"Are you hungry?"
His stomach was growling. "Yes."
"Well, then follow me, we'll go get some lunch and I will tell you the story." She took his left wrist, and swirled him around. They joined back into the flood of people trying to push their way on through the crowds. They walked about half a block, all in silence, and with Accalia holding onto Dante's wrist. They finally stopped at a little café, called Moonlight Café. It had the theme of a star night on the inside, complete with moon shaped lights and glow in the dark stars on the wall. Accalia bolted right up to the counter and boy behind it smiled as his glance went from Accalia to Dante.
"Corrupting more of New York's male population, I see?"
Accalia laughed back. "One at a time, Nick."
The boy, Nick, turned to Dante, and shook his head. "You do realize she is bad news, right?"
Dante smiled faintly, but wasn't sure how truthful they both were being. "I am finding that out the more I get to know her."
"Don't worry bout your money or anything. Just look out for your heart."
To that, Accalia rolled her eyes. "And I wonder why finding a date is so hard. You've probably told all of New York lies and slander about me."
"Lies don't exist, Accalia, only misrepresentations of the truth." Accalia narrowed her eyes slightly at him, and he shrugged. "What would you like for lunch? Usual?"
"Sure. Rare meat, of course. Extra cheese this time, whoever you had make it last time gave me one piece."
"Sorry bout that. Probably was Fernando." Nick cocked his head towards Dante. "And for you sir?"
"Uh..." Dante paused, looking up behind Nick for a menu. There, of course, was none.
"They make sandwiches and usually have some soup. I got the roast beef."
"I'll have that." Dante replied. "On white bread, mayo, and cheese."
"Alrighty, it will be ready soon." From there Accalia, still holding on to Dante, directed him to a table in the front, squeezed into the corner of the glass front and the side wall. There weren't many other people there, so he didn't understand why she didn't pick a different table, but maybe this was her spot.
"Sorry bout Nick, he likes to make fun of me. We grew up together and he likes to think of himself as my brother and guardian. He means well."
Dante kinda shrugged off the comment, because he wasn't quite sure what to say.
"The legend, right?" It was at this time, she finally let go of his wrist, as if she had to keep him by her side to make sure she told him. "There is legend that there are two-among many of course- types of elves that especially despised each other, the dark and light elves. Dark elves were naturally evil, just as light elves were naturally good. It was rare, but every now and then one of each clan would fall in love with each other. If a child was born from this union, they had white hair and looked human like." She paused, looked upwards towards his silverish locks of hair, then back to her hands in front of her. "If the child was not killed, he or she was taken to the surface, to be raised by humans, because each clan would reject child for having the blood of their enemies. Having mixed blood, the child usually spends much of their beginning of life struggling between being good and evil, until one side wins. They are usually not told of their parentage; often the child will then use their dark side instead of the good." She paused again, almost letting it soak in.
"I just find it ironic that the first time I meet a person with white hair opens the conversation by telling me about the evils of his neighborhood." Dante kinda raised an eyebrow, wondering how to respond to this. He wasn't sure if he was of Elvin birth, but he did know he had some sort of non human blood coursing through his veins.
The sandwiches came at that time, and both ate in silence. Dante watched Accalia carefully, wanting to know how much she knew. She seemed like a mountain of information, and he was almost certain now that she too was immortal. There was an air around her about that.
When Dante finished, and she was half way done, he leaned back in his chair. "That's very interesting. I don't know my parentage, but somehow I doubt I am an elf."
Accalia shrugged. "You probably wouldn't know if you were. Have you lived forever? That would probably be your only way to know."
Dante tried to suppress it, but as she spilled out the 'lived forever' part, he took a deep breath inward. She immediately noticed it, and looked him over, trying to find another sign.
"You seem very knowledgeable." He said, hoping to get the topic and her mind off Elves and him.
"I've been around the world a few times."
"A traveler?"
"Not by free will." She almost seemed sad by the fact that she had been able to see the world.
"Not by free will?" he questioned, watched her eat the last few bites of her sandwich. She swallowed it all, and leaned back lightly in the chair, just enough so her head rested on the wall behind her.
"No. I am too searching for my parents, and any siblings I might have." Dante noticed tears swelling up in her eyes, pooling around the end. "Nick is the only one I've found."
"I'm sorry." Dante whispered. "I know how it feels to be alone."
Accalia took a sudden breath and let it out quickly. "Can I be very blunt?"
"You're welcome to be."
"I felt like there was a reason I was supposed to be on that street, and I know of no purpose for me to be there. But I felt a drawing and I went there, and stood there for hours, wondering what the heck I was doing. It all fell into place when I saw you. Who are you? Where are you from? Perhaps you can help me with my search?"
Dante's mind went rushing through all the things he could. I could say I'm immortal, unable to be killed by anything created yet. I know nothing of my parentage, nothing about any siblings, and nothing about where to go from here. All I can remember is from age 13 and beyond, anything before that is a blur. I grew up in an orphanage, being unable to be adopted because of my eyes and hair color. People thought I was the devil's son and to be honest I really don't know if I am or not. I only found out about my immortality when at 16. I got into a sword fight and was pierced through the heart. Since then I have tried multiple ways to kill myself, wondering if this is just a curse, or a blessing. I have settle on getting drunk weekly, drunk to the point where I puke, just so I can say I am alive. I have longed for affection from people, but everybody shies away from my appearance. They are intrigued, scared, and repulsed all at the same time. I am the walking train wreck everybody wrenches their necks to see, but refuses to help. Everybody runs from me… except you. He bit his tongue, knowing he could say none of this. He did not know who she was, and to break his concealment would probably mean another move. As much as his street smelled like piss and there was needles everywhere, in his mind it was home.
"I don't know how I can help." He choked out.
"Perhaps you are one too?" She asked, looking quite mysteriously at him.
"One what?" He asked back, not knowing how to answer a question he didn't know.
"Then you aren't. You would know if you were." She sighed deeply again, and leaned forward.
There was silence between the two, neither knowing what to say. Dante could feel that pull Accalia had mentioned, he had this need to hear her story, heal her pain. And it wasn't his normal longing to be a normal looking human that was loved. It was an unconditional need that even if Accalia hated him he still wanted to be with her. He watched her as she sat there, thinking. She was making weird facal expression as she played with her tongue. He noticed for a second, as her tongue darted in and out, that not only was her tongue pierced but there was a faint red liquid.
"Is your tongue bleeding?"
"Huh?" She asked, snapping out of her trance.
"Your tongue. Is it bleeding? Did you just get it pierced?"
She didn't seem to realize what he was talking about for a second, her eyebrows mashed together in confusion. Suddenly it seemed to hit her. "Oh my tongue ring. No, I've had it for awhile. But when I get nervous or thinking too hard, I bite it sometimes."
"Enough to make it bleed?" The idea of that seemed queasy, but this was coming from the guy who drank to puke.
"Sometimes. Depends how deep in thought I am. It doesn't matter much to me, I don't mind it." She looked almost nervously around. "Well, sorry Dante, but I think I should be going."
"Oh? Is there nothing else you want to do?" That came out completely wrong… damn it, scaring her already Dante….
But, she smiled faintly, and briefly raised her eyebrows. "What else do you have in mind?"
Oh boy. "What else are you into, beside leading people around, telling stories and eating a big piece of bloody meat?"
"Oh, wow, you've just describe my whole hobby list." She laughed, and he saw that tint her eyes again. "I guess we could go up to your apartment for coffee." Ah, American slang…Dante smiled and nodded. He kinda regretted agreeing to this thought; he actually wanted a relationship of some sorts with her. Maybe not lovers, but to know she could actually stand the look of him made him want to keep her. He wasn't sure if she wanted to fuck him and chuck him. He really hoped that wasn't the case. The two stood up, and Dante reached into his back pocket for his wallet.
"Oh, don't worry. It's on the house. Nick owns the place." Dante couldn't believe it; Nick didn't look much older than seventeen. Accalia must have noticed his puzzled look. "He's a good business man." That didn't seem like the reason…
The two walked out, quiet. Dante wanted to believe that she too wanted something more than a few hours of pleasure, perhaps when they got to the apartment she would change her mind. Since it was only a block or so away and the two like to walk quickly, they got there in minutes. Dante climbed up the stairs two at a time, while Accalia slowly ascend. He waited at the door as Accalia made it up. With each step she took getting closer to the door his heart started skipping more beats.
"Eager?" She asked.
"I hate climbing those stairs one at a time. It seems to take forever."
She nodded in disbelief as he opened up the door.
"Nice and spare." She spoke, as she entered the place. It was a studio apartment, with just a TV on a milk crate, a bed, and a small pile of clothes.
"Eh, I have no need for a lot of things. Just food, a bathroom and a bed." Accalia's eyes glanced for everything, and focused on a chest in the corner of the room.
"What's in that?" She started to walk towards it, but Dante quickly reached out and grabbed her arm.
"Don't worry about that." Accalia shrugged, as if she didn't care and settled on the bed. It was just a box spring and a mattress lying on the floor. She laughed and walked over to it, plopping herself down.
"Somehow I imagine this is how your place would be. You seem like a minimalist."
Dante shrugged and sat down next to her. Both just sat there, neither wanting to be the first to move. At the same second, they both turn to say something to each other, and bumped Dante's arm into Accalia's boob.
"Oops." He said, blushing slightly. She giggled to that, and climbed into the middle of the bed.
"Take off your jacket. Aren't you hot?"
"You are." He replied, as he stood up, took the jacket off, threw it behind him, and climb into bed with her. Before he knew it, she jumped him, throwing him back onto the bed. She tossed herself on him, squeezing her legs tightly around his. His earlier impressions of her strength were affirmed.
"How much do you like pain?" She asked, looking him directly in the eyes. His heart was racing and Accalia seem to almost feed off this nervousness, getting more excited as his heart started to become faster.
He didn't know how to answer that. He enjoyed pain, but anything that said that sounded dorky. "I enjoy it." He finally mustered out.
She was still grinned, nearly ear to ear. She laughed, opening her mouth quite wide. It was then that Dante not only noticed the tongue ring clearly, but the two sharp fangs from her upper teeth. It was then it suddenly all fit together.
"You're a vampire." He whispered.
"Yes." She replied, slowly leaning in for a kiss. Her moist lips slipped against his dry chapped ones. She barely grazed him, and then gently bit down on the lower lip. She moaned with such force that Dante felt his heart stop for a second.
"Do you want to kill me?" He asked.
"Do you want to die?" She replied, as she continued to bite.
"I've been trying to, hasn't worked yet."
"Can't be working too hard, flesh is easy to kill." This made Dante's lips tighten into a small grin. He knew something she didn't…
"Kill me then."
"Are you sure? I kinda wanted to torture you for a few days. You're too beautiful to destroy so soon."
As much as the idea of torture at her hands seemed delicious, he was really curious if she could actually kill him. No mortal weapon could, perhaps an immortal woman could.
"Try killing me. I don't think you will be able to."
She had an insulted look on her face, as if he was questioning her powers and abilities.
"Last chance. Do you want to live or not?"
Dante shrugged. She growled in anger and bit down hard into his left jugular. He took a deep breath inward as the blood started drain quickly out of him. His fingers, then limbs, then chest grew cold as the blood stop churning along. He laid there, his heart completely stopped, his body as cold as ice. He could still see from his eyes, but the rest of him was unable to move. He watched as Accalia gently pulled herself from him and sat down next to him. "Damn shame, it really is. I should have just tortured you for a few days. Or at least got a fuck from you. But I don't like when people question me. I have the ability to kill anybody, you are no exception." She frowned, looking over his body. "Nice blood at least. Almost sweet, a unique taste. I haven't come across this before; most humans are quite bitter or salty." She climbed over his body and walked off into the bathroom.
Dante's body slowly started to warm up as his blood poured out of his bones and into the veins. He could slowly feel his chest cavity again, his limbs, and his fingers. "God damn it." He hissed, sitting up and rubbing his hair. "Fucking nothing. Not even a fucking vampire can kill me."
Accalia poked her head of the bathroom and stared at him in disbelief. "You're alive!"
Dante sighed deeply, and folded himself forward. "Unfortunately yes."
"How the hell?" She cried, coming to his side, and touching his arm. "I've done this billions of times. You should be dead."
Dante looked to her with a sadden glance. "You don't know me very well, do you? I am one of those ill-fated damned men you mentioned yesterday, that walk the earth alive and unable to die. Go ahead, find a gun somewhere. Go get one of my knives. I can't be killed."
Accalia's eyes filled with excitement. "Oh my god, I could drink your blood, and you won't die. It's like free refills at a restaurant." Dante raised an eyebrow slightly.
"It's good to be compared to a soda." He mused.
She giggled, squeezing his arm. Dante looked up to Accalia, but before he could extent his head completely, Accalia tackled him again, pining him on the bed. She sat on his hips, legs sprawled on either side of him. There was a wild look in her face, just like before. He knew before she started to anything. He was going to be sore tomorrow.