Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry, nor do I profit from this.
This is part of my general series claim at the lj group drabbles100. I decided to place these in the Decay fic-verse.
The feel of a gold orb taking hold at the instant of death was something Maria was well used to by now. However, being human, the influx of devil energy made her sick to her stomach despite the fact she'd been exposed to tons of it by now.
Muttering a purifying spell, she was relieved when Sparda offered a good excuse for not moving fast as she had thought they needed to.
Then it occurred to her that his excuse was likely just that: an excuse. But not for her benefit, not this devil. Why would he be feeling weak?
Maria was almost disappointed it was so easy to kill him. There was that damnable curiosity in his eyes as she moved to slide the knife home. The curiosity with which he'd dissected living opponents on the battlefield.
Perhaps it was a good thing he'd wanted to find out what made humans tick. His discovery, which she didn't quite understand, was why he had helped them seal the portal.
He'd given up a lot to do it, hadn't he? He'd been unable to move just now. Perhaps she shouldn't have been generous with a quick death. If he'd stayed weak…
Sparda wondered if this was Mundus' revenge, not that he would be satisfied with only this when the seal finally failed and he broke free. He felt like a human that had lost its limbs.
'Only' human. Thank darkness he wasn't, but he was closer than he had dreamed of being. How did they stand being so limited? At the mercy of the elements, one moment hot, one chilled to the bone…
It was when he sneezed that he realized he had a fever. How dreadful. At least a quick healing spell fixed that.
Maria was certainly gloating.
"Stand down!" Maria ordered the guards who were rushing forward to finish off the rider that had just screamed and fallen off his horse: obviously a demon that was trying to sneak into the city and had been caught by the wards. "He's a half-breed! Lost his talisman!"
Questions in the guards' eyes: why had a halfbreed, who should have known better, just tried to ride through?
Idiot demon: shouldn't he have known he wasn't powerful enough to resist the wards anymore? She should have been gloating over his agony, she realized. She'd grown soft, babying him on the trip.
Amazingly, the commander of the loyal sorcerers had loaned his nemesis one of his spare anti-ward talismans. Still, the damage had been extensive enough Sparda hadn't resisted being placed in one of the guest rooms, under heavy guard.
She'd stolen some blue orbs from the half-breeds: they didn't need them with the war over.
She'd been a healer once, in another life. Well, mainly she'd set wards: Vesta was the protector of the home, after all.
She'd sat over sickbeds before. This shouldn't be anything new, not at all.
It was just so amazing she wanted this one to survive.