#been thinkin bout him a lot. like so much. like a ton. & also annoyed and mucking around uselessly in all my other wips shrug

[intertexts]

man i should write some more dakota pov.

[imastrangeone98]

Lost and Found - Chapter 5: Et Misericordia

(A/N: hello I’m back. to my non-existent readers, this is gonna be a little filler that will lead to some more horrible shit)

(also wow Dante is probably super ooc here... I’m so sorry)

(and have this song too)

https://youtu.be/Ym4sH9VaHbU

[Four Months Later]

It wasn’t until he woke up curled around her that he began to think he was getting a little too attached.

He knew for certain that he fell asleep on his chair while she napped on the sofa, only to wake up hours later pressed next to her, chest to back, on a couch that was too small for them.

What made things worse was the fact that the blanket had slipped a bit from her neck while she slept, exposing the skin underneath. And for some reason, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t seem to look away. His demonic instincts screamed at him to sink his teeth into it and claim, claim, claim.

What the hell’s wrong with me?

With difficulty, he tried to force himself to think about something else- what pizza to order, or magazines to read- but his thoughts kept getting fried the moment he caught a whiff of her sweet, delicate lotus scent.

He should move. He should really move.

But she began to readjust herself to snuggle further into his chest. His arms remained locked around her waist.

...Shit.

He knew that he wasn’t going to follow through on the idea, so he closed his eyes to try and fall back to sleep, but he kept getting distracted.

Faith.

An interesting person, to say the least. She was one of those people where you could learn everything about them in one day, yet learn nothing about who they are at the same time.

He knew she often went out during the day, usually to chat with the homeless and feed the stray animals that wandered the back alleyways of the city. He knew that she would sneak out every night, always checking first to drape a blanket over him and see if he was asleep (he wasn’t), to take a stroll on the beach and stare up at the sky and stars. He knew that she hardly ate, no matter what type of food it was, and she never used the room he offered her, instead preferring to sleep on the couch, curled up in a little ball. And he knew that she loved music- on stormy days when the pounding rain made it impossible to leave the office, she would hum to herself and rock back and forth, arms wrapped tightly around her skinny frame while listening intently to the jukebox.

He also noticed the way she would shiver uncontrollably at seemingly random moments. He saw the way that she would flinch at loud noises (he learned to be careful of his volume the hard way). He noticed the way she would sometimes sit by herself in the bathroom for hours at a time, huddled into the bathtub and staring at nothing. On those days, he’d sit right outside and just talk- about his business, the weather, his favorite type of pizza, what fashion exploit Lady had planned for them- until she’d open the door and let him sit on the toilet seat as she listened to him speak.

She gave no explanation. If asked, she would simply clam up and hide under the blankets, refusing to come out.

He hated that he couldn’t help her, but he learned to accept the fact that she wouldn’t talk until she was ready.

But that still didn’t help his imagination.

What if she was being hunted? he thought before he could stop himself. What if she had...

A chill ran down his spine.

What if she had been abused?

If that idea was true, then it would explain a lot about her skittish behavior. It would also explain the boiling rage that simmered in his gut with every second that he thought about that possibility.

Faith began to shiver.

Crap.

While he could easily guess that Faith was a natural at reading peoples’ emotions, he hadn’t fully processed how much she seemed to react to them.

Whenever he or Lady were upset in any way, she’d often hide in the bathroom until one of them (usually Lady) would have to persuade her to come out. If either one of them felt some form of peace (or any positive emotion in general), she’d wrap her arms around their waist and bury her face in the crook of their shoulder blades, as if she was trying to absorb their energy.

Maybe she was.

He relaxed into the soft leather of the couch, and let his thoughts dissipate. And she stopped shivering, leaning further back into him.

Now wasn’t the time to ask questions. And as drowsiness began to seep back into his body, he let his forehead rest against the back of her neck and breathed in her smell.

Right before he closed his eyes, he remembered feeling like he could breathe in her scent forever.

[...]

His body processed the fact that she wasn’t there faster than his mind did.

He felt cold, despite his natural body heat and the blanket that was carefully draped over him; the space next to him was empty. Muted lamplight seeped through the windows, illuminating his now-dark office.

She must be at the beach, he thought as he stretched his arms. I’m bored... might as well take a look, right?

Quickly grabbing his jacket, he strolled out of the building and began his long walk towards the ocean...

...only to find that she wasn’t there.

He jogged up and down the sand at least six times while repeatedly calling her name.

Nothing but the ocean waves replied.

Inexplicable panic began to grow, and he tried to force it down to no avail. So he headed into the city, resolving to call Lady if he couldn’t find her there.

Dante wandered the city for at least half an hour. She wasn’t at any of her usual spots. He asked some of the homeless people he saw if they had seen her- none of them did.

“Actually,” someone noted, “she sometimes goes to the church when she’s thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’.”

“Which church?” Dante asked, already anxious to check on her.

“Uh, St. Charles, I think, over on the hill. I hear they have choir practice every Saturday night.”

With a quick thank-you and some spare pocket money, he sprinted down the street towards the church on the hill.

The pressure in his stomach diminished the second her familiar lotus scent hit his nose.

She was here. No doubt about it.

Choir practice every Saturday night.

Was this where she’d been every Saturday? Why didn’t she tell him? Also, why did he care so much that she didn’t tell him? He had no right to infringe on her privacy, and hell- he hardly knew anything about her to have any say on what she did with her personal time.

But one thought lingered in the back of his mind, and he hated it, but once it was in his head, it was impossible to ignore.

The idea of her leaving him behind was unbearable to him.

Shut up, brain, he thought as he pushed open the door. I’ll deal with you later.

He spotted her the second he stepped into the chamber. Faith sat on the bench closest to the corner of the wall, and the back of her head blended in with the shadows, but that gentle aura was unmistakable.

She didn’t react much when he sat next to her, golden eyes fixed intently on the session in front of her. He somehow knew that she wouldn’t respond to him until it was over, so he made himself comfortable and watched with her as the chorus practiced their final piece.

Et misericordia eius...

Et misericordia eius...

Et progenies, in progenies...

Timentibus eum.

Dante hadn’t realized how relaxed he’d become over the course of the song. His mind felt clearer, and his body was less tense than it usually was. He could understand why Faith would come here so often.

“This is my thinking place,” she finally murmured, long after the choir had disbanded for the night. “I come here from time to time and just... listen to everything. I guess it’s... therapeutic?”

He nodded. “Makes sense. It’s a nice song.”

“Yeah. It is.”

They were silent for a while after that, but he didn’t mind. It was comfortable.

Faith shifted. She rubbed her hands over her arms, her gold eyes deep in thought.

Under the shadow of the dimmed church lights, she looked tired.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Let’s go home. You look exhausted.”

Faith shook her head. “I’m going to think a little more. You go ahead and get some sleep. I’ll be back before you wake up.”

“Faith...”

She let out a light sigh and gazed at the hanging cross on the front wall for a bit. “Do you know what that song means?”

“Uh... something about church?”

The tiniest of smiles flickered on her lips; he stared too long at them. “You’re not wrong. ‘And His mercy is on them that fear Him from generation to generation.’”

“...Is this about you being a nephilim?”

“Yes.” Her voice weakened, but she said, “Nephilims aren’t meant to be born. We’re mistakes, created by angels who succumbed to their unholy desires.”

“Uh, but weren’t there a ton of them in the olden days?”

“Supposedly. But God allegedly saw how unclean and sinful they had become, and He wiped them out, using their essence to create a new world. This world we walk on now... it was made from the bones of my kind.”

Dante didn’t like where this conversation was going. He didn’t want to have it. He just wanted to kill demons, eat pizza, annoy Lady, and listen to jukebox music with Faith. Philosophy and religion were never his specialties.

“Something bad is going to happen, Dante. And whatever it is, I doubt that it’s coming to show mercy.”

The temperature dropped. The chapel, once comforting, now felt hostile. Air seemed to leave his lungs.

They needed to leave. Now.

“Faith... Let’s just go home, okay? Maybe- maybe we can talk more about this tomorrow.”

She said nothing in return. Her gold eyes looked black and empty in the darkness.

And Dante was once again struck with the knowledge that he didn’t know anything about her at all.

———————————————————————

A/N: hmm what a shitshow. Also would anyone consider this blasphemous or sacrilegious?

Edit: read chapter 6! :D