It was warm. The sun shining brightly on the ground, trampled down to the hard dirt by excited children and other merrymakers. The scenery and the crowd around her bobbed past as she sat on her father's shoulders, more than eager to join the bustle on the ground.

"Come on, papa. Can't we stay a little longer?"

The man chuckled and shook his head lightly.

"Not this time, love."

"Oh, please?! Just one more?"

He looked up at the little redhaired girl on his shoulders and desperately tried to remain serious about his assertion, but it melted away in the face of his daughter's pout.

"Alright, alright. One more, but that's all," he conceded. "Your mother will want us home for dinner."

The girl squealed in joy and her father set her down. She grabbed him by the hand and wove through the crowd, searching for an attraction she had not explored so far. Eventually one was found- a colorful tent faded with age. Dragging her father inside, she was almost overwhelmed by the smell of incense within.

Charms hung from the canvas ceiling, dangling from thin wooden supports, and an old wooden table stood in the center. Antique chairs surrounded it, marked by different woods and fabrics, and another small table sat in the back on three awkward legs upon which sat the incense burner. The little girl frowned at the apparent lack of a purveyor.

"Where are they?" she whined, looking up at her father.

The man said nothing in response, but started to pull his daughter outside into the crowd.

"Come to hear your fortune, dearie?"

The man froze and looked back over his shoulder. As if out of nowhere, an old woman had materialized at the table, her body as ragged and worn as her girl paid it no mind, however, and pranced over to the table. She scrambled up into one of the chairs and looked up at the woman with bright eyes.

"Can you really tell the future?" she asked.

The woman smiled wryly.

"The future, the past, the present- all are seen, all are told."

"And how much do all of those cost?"

The old woman glared up at the father who returned with a cold stare. Sneering, the hag straightened up in her seat.

"Fate has no cost," she replied, "Unless fate deems otherwise."

The man scoffed, but said no more as the woman held out her hands to the girl.

"Give me your hands, child, and clear your thoughts. Let Ghananda tell you of fate."

The girl did as she was asked. Ghananda was motionless for a few moments, muttering an incantation under her breath with her eyes closed. At last, they snapped open and the woman hastily withdrew her hands from the girl's, backing away in fear.

"What's wrong?" asked the girl, confused.

The woman shook her head violently and pointed a finger at the girl in accusation.

"Firebreather," hissed the hag.

The father went rigid, but the little girl was still confused and a fear began to settle in her stomach.

"Firebreather?" she echoed. "I don't-"

"FIREBREATHERS!" screamed the woman. "DESTROYERS! DECEIVERS!"

Before the old woman could say anymore, the girl's father whisked her into his arms and out of the tent, taking off at a near run as the woman continued to scream over the din of the crowd.

{break}

Lorena's eyes shot open as she jerked upright. Glancing around the room and taking in her surroundings, she let out a relieved sigh as she fell back onto the bed.

Just a dream, she thought. It was just a dream.

She stared up at the canopy of the bed with a slight frown. She hadn't thought about that day at the fair in years. In fact, she'd done everything to push those memories to the back of her mind. To try to forget… but apparently some part of her couldn't let go.

Breathing deep, she brought her hands to her head and rested them in her hair. There was no point in dwelling on this, she couldn't change anything. Her father was gone- there was nothing she could do about that. All she could do was move on.

By now, Lorena had been in the house for about a week- chill October beginning to ease into a bleak November. The trees had lost their color and the sky was a washed out shade of blue most days; December seemed to loom just beyond the horizon and she wasn't exactly excited about it. She hated winter. There was beauty in it, yes, but she hated the cold. Lorena didn't exactly do very well when it came to being cold.

Since her first night she hadn't really seen much of anyone else apart from Salem, who had since become her only friend. The other members of the staff were terrified of her, and she honestly couldn't blame them. She'd heard death by burning was a pretty terrible way to go.

Of course there were the twins, too. She wasn't quite sure what to think of them, though she was pretty darn sure Dante didn't have a brain. At least a functional one, anyways. Vergil just seemed to ignore her when he was around, but the few times they'd made eye contact it had been very obvious to Lorena that he didn't like her. Not in the slightest.

Any other consistent contact she'd had came from Sparda, who insisted that she have dinner with him every night. Oddly enough, she was growing rather fond of the elder demon. He was a real charmer, that one. Sort of like a favorite uncle or something. He always had something to talk about and he was unusually peppy all the time. Her father would've liked him.

She shook her head again. She really needed to stop thinking about him. It wasn't going to bring him back.

...As much as she wished it would.

Heaving a sigh, Lorena rolled over onto her side and wrapped her blankets tight around her body. The temperature had decided to take a turn for the worse, and she got the feeling that soon enough there would be snow on the ground. Closing her eyes, she pushed any remaining thoughts from her mind and tried to let the warmth in her blankets lull her back to sleep.

Meanwhile, in a completely different part of the house hell and gone from Lorena's room, Dante was coming to a terrible realization.

He was bored. So very, very bored.

Why you ask? Well, it was no secret that Dante liked to... entertain himself with members of the staff- sometimes several at a time- but for the past few days, he found he was starting to tire of his playthings. Kind of an awkward thought to have while one of them was attached to his neck, but there you go.

As much as part of him really didn't want to be, he just wasn't really in the mood for it, and it soon became evident that his more than willing partner had noticed.

"Am I boring you?"

He looked down at the woman in front of him and sighed.

"Actually, yeah," he replied, pushing her away.

She huffed, obviously disappointed, but said nothing else as she straightened herself up and left the room. Sighing audibly once more, Dante ran a hand through his hair and cursed under his breath. This was embarrassing.

The only thing that made it worse was that he couldn't even get the only woman who did interest him into bed.

Don't misunderstand- this was not love that Dante felt. A more accurate description would be to call it an obsession. A need. A burning, aching desire that gnawed at him, almost as if he was losing some sort of battle. Normally, if he pushed and prodded enough, even the most difficult woman would fall into his arms.

But Lorena was proving to be a bit of a challenge.

The woman barely left her room without someone with her, and more often than not said person was his father. Not to mention the fact that Vergil was apparently trying to bury him with work, boring work, and by the time he actually managed to finish it she was back in her room with the door locked. Still, he was not to be deterred from his goal- his pride wouldn't allow it.

Not to mention he'd be damned if Vergil got to her first.

"What are you doing?"

Speak of the Devil.

The older twin was glowering down at his mirror image, disdain etched onto his face in the form of a frown. Readjusting his position against the wall, the younger brother shrugged and grinned at his brother in response.

"None of your damn business," he replied cheerily.

Vergil's frown only seemed to deepen.

"Unfortunately, it is my business," Vergil answered coldly. "Especially considering that how you act reflects back on both of us."

Dante let out a low whistle.

"I see the stick is especially far up today," he mused. "What's bothering you?"

"That depends on what you've heard."

The younger twin yawned and stretched.

"I haven't heard from Trish, if that's what you're asking."

"Then that is what's bothering me," grumbled Vergil.

"Relax, Verge. They're just a bunch of dumb humans."

"True, but it's starting to get even more out of hand."

Dante's grin faded.

"We lost another, huh?"

"This is the fifth one," hissed Vergil, obviously frustrated. "I-"

A loud crash echoed through the hallway, cutting the elder twin off before his rant could truly begin. The twins looked at each other for a moment before looking down the hallway in the direction of the noise.

"Isn't that woman's room in that wing?" Vergil said slowly.

Dante nodded.

"Yep."

Exchanging another look, they took off at top speed towards the opposite wing.