Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry.
These are part of my challenge for the livejournal group drabbles100, Devil May Cry general series.
They had stood there for a minute, weapons at her father's neck, her and the demon twins, united in their opposition to him. She hadn't wanted to be on the same side as demons, especially not as the one who had tried to slice her in half.
He, Vergil, had sounded human for an instant when his sword had been caught, honest shock: did he truly think he was invulnerable as the other one seemed to be?
At least he didn't try to be friendly like the other one. Less irritating. Her father had wanted her to hate him. So…
Dante had been trying and failing to get drunk when he'd told her the story of his family. She felt too sober too: was the saying this stuff made you forget false advertising?
There was something captivatingly noble about it, a quest to live up to his father, and she wished she could have looked up to hers. Though they had both been demons. Strange that he had the noble father.
She agreed with Dante that he could never be Sparda, and she was sad for him, the pale knight who kept falling, a tragic hero out of a romance.
She refused to become a demon.
He agreed that it was her choice, that he respected it even though he would miss her. He knew better than to try to argue.
She felt so guilty, though, that he would lose her, she wanted him to have some part of her to keep, cherish, love. Not her soul, she feared that even with his discipline… With it as a reminder, eventually he would give in to the temptation to resurrect her. Without it, he could move on.
She'd told him there would not be children, but for her love she would.
Ow ow ow! She was aware she was gripping his hand far too tightly: with her strength normal bones would have snapped by now.
This was painful and the evil, evil devil babies were going to kill her on their way out and if she survived she was going to kill him for talking her into this (even though it had been entirely her decision, but she wasn't in any state to be rational about it. "I'll kill you!"
"If it makes you feel better, you may. Do you want your gun?" He meant it? Was he stupid?
Her mind faded as he deactivated the spells that were keeping her lucid and alive as she had told him. Her life could be prolonged for more years, but there was a limit. She wanted to die as a human, she was already a hundred and sixty and that was enough, she was tired, tired even of him.
He held her hand and she wondered dimly if he was crying. She didn't want him to cry, though she knew it was selfish to leave him.
She wondered if he would follow her, and was glad she hadn't asked him to.