#even if cogs save system sucks balls

[keeroo92]

Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch28 (V x Reader)

So here’s another chapter that somehow never got posted on Tumblr. My bad.

Chapter 28 - Last Glimpse of Sunlight

Soundtrack for this chapter is Coheed and Cambria’s Love Protocol. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1hs4fj-B-k

_______________________________________________________

June 15th, 12:00 pm

A cacophonous rumble breaks your stride as you and V trek through a park after your… break. Instantly you both look at the Qlipoth to watch in horror as it grows suddenly, massive chunks of roads and buildings mysteriously floating skyward as its spiny branches reach above the clouds and into space.

“We’re almost out of time,” V mutters morosely.

The shaking earth prevents you from answering as you're forced to take off running, the stable path you’d been walking crumbling away into a chasm. V falls behind quickly to your dismay, and you slow just enough to keep him close.

Even so, you’re separated when the ground you stand on rises as the terrain he remains upon drops. You fall to your belly immediately, looking back as V reaches out to grasp your forearm as the soil continues sinking away. You grunt and grit your teeth as your shoulder wrenches from taking his weight but you miraculously manage to hold on, your other arm quickly joining the first to spread the strain out. He glances back and forth between your determined face and the destruction beneath him, his clever eyes judging whether you’ll be forced to drop him or if you’re strong enough to pull him up to join you.

I did NOT spend three days searching Dante’s library just to drop him!

The thought makes you snarl and sends a blast of adrenaline through your system, temporarily lending you the strength you need to haul him up beside you with a primal shout of exertion. His legs scramble against the dirt fruitlessly for a moment before he finds enough friction to help raise his body higher. The moment he can support himself safely you let go with a gasp, flopping over onto your side and panting.

I miss Griffon.

He drops down and lies there beside you as the trembling terrain settles, his chest displaying his racing heartbeat. His emerald eyes find yours and the rhythm of his breath changes as his laughter fills the air.

“When they find they must, my lord, they will,” he quips between his relieved chuckling. You let out a snort of your own, sitting up as your cheeks stretch and your laughter mixes with his. His eyes sparkle with delight, the widest smile you’ve seen in days showing his white teeth to the sun above.

“I never knew that William Blake had a line of poetry for every conceivable situation until I met you, V,” you remark as the humor begins to fade. He smirks at you as he rises to his feet, his cane taking most of his weight. You join him with much less effort, still choking back the last of your giggles as your steady stride accompanies his limp forward.

The next half hour passes quickly; the hordes of demons apparently enjoyed the rumbling earth even less than the pair of you had and left the area. Your thoughts drift back to revisit every aspect of your theory, dissecting it and searching for flaws in the haphazard ideology yet again with no results. Frustration at your lack of new insight fills you and you irritably imagine what your life would have been like if you’d lived in a different city, fallen for a normal guy with normal problems.

You know exactly what it would look like; you’d lived that life before. The image you form seems drab, colorless and without flavor.

Contentment would’ve been easy, that much is true. A comfortable home, a decent paycheck and a special someone to buy you flowers on your anniversary, rub your back when it ached or, if you were lucky, who would cook dinner from time to time. A reasonably attractive man who was acceptable in the bedroom, someone your mom would like. Maybe you’d finish school, earn a position as a trauma surgeon like you used to dream about. Save lives every day, helping people you’d never see again after they left the operating table.

A life like all the rest, a cog in the machine of society struggling to achieve a pale shadow of the joy that fills you every time you draw your sword, every time you hear Nero’s battle cries or Nico’s muttered curses as she tinkers. A soft echo of the incandescent love you feel for your poet. You don’t even bother picturing a face for the amorphous form representing a romantic partner, knowing that regardless of the creativity of your imagination it would be like holding a single candle up to the sun at its zenith compared to V.

I have a life most people lack the capacity to even imagine.

Your eyes drift to study his face, taking in the small growth of dark stubble on his strong jaw. The curve of his nose, the small indent on his cheek by his wide lips. The arch of his brow, the intensity of his gaze under his dark eyebrows, even from the side. You force yourself to ignore the thin scar on his cheekbone, choosing to focus instead on the smoothness of his alabaster skin.

His lips twist into his signature smirk, his eyes catching yours glued to his face.

“What are you staring at, love?” he asks teasingly. You blush at being caught but meet his eyes with a smirk of your own.

“Nothing much, just the most attractive man to ever exist,” you reply casually, adding a shrug for good measure. His smirk deepens and he stands a little taller, breaking your stare bashfully to look at the sky as his cheeks tinge pink.

 Gotcha!

He recovers quickly, playfully swatting your ass with a light tap of his cane. You gasp in mock horror.

“And here I thought you were a gentleman!” you remark, easily stepping out of his range.

“You know very well that I can be gentle, and I can be rough. You’ve never complained about my performance in either category,” he easily shoots back at you with a wry grin. The reminder of his… variable tastes sends a torrent of lewd memories through you and your thighs shake as you step forward. You turn to face him and raise your arms in surrender.

“You win, you win! No more, kind sir, I beg of you,” you plead playfully, and V chuckles softly in amusement.

“Then allow me to claim my prize,” he growls, his arm already extending to pull you against him. You don’t resist, happily letting him capture your lips with his own. His kiss is soft and sweet, a light pressure lacking any urgency as he molds his mouth to fit yours. You part with a soft sigh, taking his hand as you step ever closer to the Qlipoth.

The tree seems to grow with every step now, its form meeting the ground mere blocks from where you stand. The closer you get, the worse the devastation. Instead of chunks of rubble, entire buildings are simply gone, only the outline of their foundation marking where they once stood. Even the trees that once lined the roadway have been uprooted, the very asphalt cracking to set their roots free. And the smell… if you’d thought the Glutton was the worst imaginable aroma, you are quickly proven wrong by the sickening stench of blood, death, decay and dirt that permeates the air.

Two blocks away, the ground turns slimy with the amount of blood that’s soaked into it, the dirt stained red along with the lower portion of anything unfortunate enough to be touching the desecrated earth. The once white soles of your faithful slip-resistant shows turn crimson, then almost black. You’ll never be able to wear them again without remembering this place, this carnage.

A block left; you can see where the accursed tree meets the pavement and you smile at V. The resounding relief in his emerald eyes as you slowly creep forward is almost painful to behold, telling you exactly how worried he’d been about getting this far. The ground here is so sticky you have to be careful not to lose a shoe with each step, the caked-on blood sucking the soles in a tight embrace. You’re amazed that the area is so flat, expecting more of the strange elevation changes or shifted surface to impede you yet finding nothing of the sort.

The daylight vanishes as you enter the shadow of the massive structure at last. The change in lighting is reminiscent of an eclipse, the darkness so complete it feels like you’ve entered a cave. Through a convenient gap in the structure, you spot Nico’s van within, hastily pointing it out to V and rushing toward it to reunite with your friends. As you enter the base of the accursed tree the stench reaches a new level and you have to hold your shirt over your face and breathe through your mouth to keep from retching. Trish and Dante are loitering nearby, talking seriously as if they haven’t noticed the smell.

I bet I know what they’re talking about…

As you approach, Griffon flaps over with a relieved caw, settling back into V’s dark tattoos instantly to rest. You glance back at the group as Trish tells Dante something and his eyes go wide. Nico, Nero and Lady are nowhere to be seen.

So now Dante knows, too. Good.

The man in red glares at you and V as you enter the small area, fury radiating from him in waves as he stomps over, hands balled into fists and chest heaving. He stops just before you and the poet, restraining his anger visibly with a clench of his jaw.

“You’re dying? You’re part of Vergil?” the son of Sparda demands harshly. V sighs heavily, taking a seat on a conveniently located stretch of Qlipoth roots. You meet Dante’s enraged eyes with your own, making him pause.

“Yes, he is. Now get a hold of yourself, Dante. We don’t have time for this right now. We can deal with it after Urizen is gone,” you reply firmly, leaving no room for argument.

He shakes his head and is silent for a few long moments, his hands slowly relaxing and his lips twisting into a smirk as he faces you once more.

“There’s that fire. Careful not to burn him, sweetheart,” he comments wryly, his flirtatious tone making your fingers twitch angrily.

“Lucky me, I can’t get burned,” he adds slyly, and you growl in frustration at your own restraint keeping you from slapping him silly.

V cackles softly, his emerald eyes rising to meet Dante’s blue. His amused smirk soothes your anger as he speaks.

“If any could desire what he is incapable of possessing, despair must be his eternal lot,” the poet quips sarcastically and you have to choke back your laughter. He winks at you, clearly noticing your mirth. Dante grimaces but doesn’t respond to the teasing, instead finally focusing on what’s important.

“Hey, where’d that garbage god go? What is Urizen after?” the brash man asks you both.

“He’s at the top of the Qlipoth,” V answers in a strained whisper. Trish steps over to join your trio, adding her own considerable knowledge to the conversation easily.

“It's the other way around, Dante. This is the lowest level of the Qliphoth's upper echelon. Human blood is the source of demons' power. The fruit born through the Qliphoth is even more dense than the blood that created it. Its power is unparalleled. Even the almighty Mundus used it to become king of the Underworld. V told me everything,” the blonde woman explains carefully, crossing her arms and tossing a dismissive nod of her head at the poet.

Dante gives her a look as he responds, striding away confidently.

“Yeah, well, that’s a lovely story and all, but… as long as we know where to find him,” he rumbles, his hands already hovering near his waist in preparation for the showdown. Nico steps into his path with a huge grin and you almost laugh as she meets her personal hero for the first time, her nervousness evident in her every motion. If this moment wasn’t so obviously important to her, you’d already have her in your arms in a relieved hug.

“Whoa! You are the infamous Dante! Um, I'm Nicoletta Goldstein. Sounds familiar? My grandmother is Nell Goldstein. The gunsmith that made all your fancy weapons that you got... strapped... back there...” she gestures lamely at the two pistols strapped within Dante’s coat and he pulls them out to show them to her kindly.  

Nico points to one of the portraits on the handle excitedly. “Yeah, there she is!” she exclaims proudly. Dante glances between the portrait and Nico doubtfully.

“You don't look much like her...” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I got my looks from my daddy. That's about all I got from him,” her southern drawl replies, but your attention is elsewhere as Nero steps forward from behind the van. You dash over to envelop him in a hug, hopelessly thankful that your friend is alright. He briefly hugs you back, agitated by something and not entirely focused on you. He doesn’t even scratch the back of his neck like he always has in the past at any sign of physical affection. Nico’s voice rises even higher as she presents a gift to the man in red and you both glance over silently.

“Um...it--it-- consider it a gift! In honor of us finally meeting! Meeting,” she tells Dante, holding out a white cowboy hat with a small piece of demonic decoration adorning it. Dante shakes it suspiciously, as if he expects something to fall out of it, but the hat instead leaps onto his head. Your eyes widen as a red and black scarf forms around his neck and he winks right at you before smirking and dancing to music only he can hear.

His moves, while skilled, are ridiculous. He adds several exclamations and crotch grabs, ending with a moonwalk and a pose that is an obvious imitation of Michael Jackson. Nico claps happily, laughing as the man in red nods at her.

“I’ll take that,” he states simply and walks away, clearly about to resume his hunt for Urizen. Nero quickly joins him, an angry scowl on his expressive face.

“Dante! I'm gonna go too,” the young warrior informs him. Dante turns around to face him with a serious look on his face.

“Why don't you sit this one out?” the devil hunter asks, trying to be kind.

Nero is having none of it and his scowl deepens. “Oh, and let you call me dead weight again? No thanks. I got all the power I need. Right here,” he retorts, flourishing his metal arm to emphasize his readiness for battle. The whole conversation makes no sense to you; Nero is a capable fighter, already having proven himself many times over in your eyes.

Why doesn’t Dante want him coming along?

“You don't understand. That's not what I mean,” he begins, exasperated.

“Let him go, Dante. Time is a luxury we can no longer afford. We must chase after him, post-haste,” V pipes up from his perch, carefully standing and limping over to the two men. Being near them only highlights how weakened he is, how frail his posture marks him to be and you frown, anxiety tugging at your thoughts.

“Why? Does this mean you're going too?” Dante replies in confusion.

“I have a duty to see this through,” the poet reminds him hoarsely, and you step over to stand beside him in silent support. Your breath hitches painfully as you notice more flakes of his flesh floating away in the still air. Dante shrugs, walking backward to the edge of the small area your group stands upon with a smirk.

“Well that's all you have to say, Mr. Poetry. I'm gonna go my way, you guys can go yours. Let's just say that's best for the cause,” he claims, and jumps over the edge without any further comment. Nero and V exchange a look but follow quickly behind him, each choosing their own pathway. V twists his wrist and Griffon’s side of his body lightens as the bird appears overhead, swooping around to take his outstretched arm and carry him to the next level. You wait impatiently until Griffon comes back for you.

“C’mon, little lady! No time to waste!” the mouthy demon informs you and you roll your eyes as his claws close around your arms and carry you to join V below.

[keeroo92]

Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch28 (V x Reader)

June 15th, 12:00 pm

A cacophonous rumble breaks your stride as you and V trek through a park after your… break. Instantly you both look at the Qlipoth to watch in horror as it grows suddenly, massive chunks of roads and buildings mysteriously floating skyward as its spiny branches reach above the clouds and into space.

“We’re almost out of time,” V mutters morosely.

The shaking earth prevents you from answering as you're forced to take off running, the stable path you’d been walking crumbling away into a chasm. V falls behind quickly to your dismay, and you slow just enough to keep him close.

Even so, you’re separated when the ground you stand on rises as the terrain he remains upon drops. You fall to your belly immediately, looking back as V reaches out to grasp your forearm as the soil continues sinking away. You grunt and grit your teeth as your shoulder wrenches from taking his weight but you miraculously manage to hold on, your other arm quickly joining the first to spread the strain out. He glances back and forth between your determined face and the destruction beneath him, his clever eyes judging whether you’ll be forced to drop him or if you’re strong enough to pull him up to join you.

 I did NOT spend three days searching Dante’s library just to drop him!

The thought makes you snarl and sends a blast of adrenaline through your system, temporarily lending you the strength you need to haul him up beside you with a primal shout of exertion. His legs scramble against the dirt fruitlessly for a moment before he finds enough friction to help raise his body higher. The moment he can support himself safely you let go with a gasp, flopping over onto your side and panting.

 I miss Griffon.

He drops down and lies there beside you as the trembling terrain settles, his chest displaying his racing heartbeat. His emerald eyes find yours and the rhythm of his breath changes as his laughter fills the air.

“When they find they must, my lord, they will,” he quips between his relieved chuckling. You let out a snort of your own, sitting up as your cheeks stretch and your laughter mixes with his. His eyes sparkle with delight, the widest smile you’ve seen in days showing his white teeth to the sun above.

“I never knew that William Blake had a line of poetry for every conceivable situation until I met you, V,” you remark as the humor begins to fade. He smirks at you as he rises to his feet, his cane taking most of his weight. You join him with much less effort, still choking back the last of your giggles as your steady stride accompanies his limp forward.

The next half hour passes quickly; the hordes of demons apparently enjoyed the rumbling earth even less than the pair of you had and left the area. Your thoughts drift back to revisit every aspect of your theory, dissecting it and searching for flaws in the haphazard ideology yet again with no results. Frustration at your lack of new insight fills you and you irritably imagine what your life would have been like if you’d lived in a different city, fallen for a normal guy with normal problems.

You know exactly what it would look like; you’d lived that life before. The image you form seems drab, colorless and without flavor.

Contentment would’ve been easy, that much is true. A comfortable home, a decent paycheck and a special someone to buy you flowers on your anniversary, rub your back when it ached or, if you were lucky, who would cook dinner from time to time. A reasonably attractive man who was acceptable in the bedroom, someone your mom would like. Maybe you’d finish school, earn a position as a trauma surgeon like you used to dream about. Save lives every day, helping people you’d never see again after they left the operating table.

A life like all the rest, a cog in the machine of society struggling to achieve a pale shadow of the joy that fills you every time you draw your sword, every time you hear Nero’s battle cries or Nico’s muttered curses as she tinkers. A soft echo of the incandescent love you feel for your poet. You don’t even bother picturing a face for the amorphous form representing a romantic partner, knowing that regardless of the creativity of your imagination it would be like holding a single candle up to the sun at its zenith compared to V.

 I have a life most people lack the capacity to even imagine.

Your eyes drift to study his face, taking in the small growth of dark stubble on his strong jaw. The curve of his nose, the small indent on his cheek by his wide lips. The arch of his brow, the intensity of his gaze under his dark eyebrows, even from the side. You force yourself to ignore the thin scar on his cheekbone, choosing to focus instead on the smoothness of his alabaster skin.

His lips twist into his signature smirk, his eyes catching yours glued to his face.

“What are you staring at, love?” he asks teasingly. You blush at being caught but meet his eyes with a smirk of your own.

“Nothing much, just the most attractive man to ever exist,” you reply casually, adding a shrug for good measure. His smirk deepens and he stands a little taller, breaking your stare bashfully to look at the sky as his cheeks tinge pink.

  Gotcha!

He recovers quickly, playfully swatting your ass with a light tap of his cane. You gasp in mock horror.

“And here I thought you were a gentleman!” you remark, easily stepping out of his range.

“You know very well that I can be gentle, and I can be rough. You’ve never complained about my performance in either category,” he easily shoots back at you with a wry grin. The reminder of his… variable tastes sends a torrent of lewd memories through you and your thighs shake as you step forward. You turn to face him and raise your arms in surrender.

“You win, you win! No more, kind sir, I beg of you,” you plead playfully, and V chuckles softly in amusement.

“Then allow me to claim my prize,” he growls, his arm already extending to pull you against him. You don’t resist, happily letting him capture your lips with his own. His kiss is soft and sweet, a light pressure lacking any urgency as he molds his mouth to fit yours. You part with a soft sigh, taking his hand as you step ever closer to the Qlipoth.

The tree seems to grow with every step now, its form meeting the ground mere blocks from where you stand. The closer you get, the worse the devastation. Instead of chunks of rubble, entire buildings are simply gone, only the outline of their foundation marking where they once stood. Even the trees that once lined the roadway have been uprooted, the very asphalt cracking to set their roots free. And the smell… if you’d thought the Glutton was the worst imaginable aroma, you are quickly proven wrong by the sickening stench of blood, death, decay and dirt that permeates the air.

Two blocks away, the ground turns slimy with the amount of blood that’s soaked into it, the dirt stained red along with the lower portion of anything unfortunate enough to be touching the desecrated earth. The once white soles of your faithful slip-resistant shows turn crimson, then almost black. You’ll never be able to wear them again without remembering this place, this carnage.

A block left; you can see where the accursed tree meets the pavement and you smile at V. The resounding relief in his emerald eyes as you slowly creep forward is almost painful to behold, telling you exactly how worried he’d been about getting this far. The ground here is so sticky you have to be careful not to lose a shoe with each step, the caked-on blood sucking the soles in a tight embrace. You’re amazed that the area is so flat, expecting more of the strange elevation changes or shifted surface to impede you yet finding nothing of the sort.

The daylight vanishes as you enter the shadow of the massive structure at last. The change in lighting is reminiscent of an eclipse, the darkness so complete it feels like you’ve entered a cave. Through a convenient gap in the structure, you spot Nico’s van within, hastily pointing it out to V and rushing toward it to reunite with your friends. As you enter the base of the accursed tree the stench reaches a new level and you have to hold your shirt over your face and breathe through your mouth to keep from retching. Trish and Dante are loitering nearby, talking seriously as if they haven’t noticed the smell.

 I bet I know what they’re talking about…

As you approach, Griffon flaps over with a relieved caw, settling back into V’s dark tattoos instantly to rest. You glance back at the group as Trish tells Dante something and his eyes go wide. Nico, Nero and Lady are nowhere to be seen.

 So now Dante knows, too. Good.

The man in red glares at you and V as you enter the small area, fury radiating from him in waves as he stomps over, hands balled into fists and chest heaving. He stops just before you and the poet, restraining his anger visibly with a clench of his jaw.

“You’re dying? You’re part of Vergil?” the son of Sparda demands harshly. V sighs heavily, taking a seat on a conveniently located stretch of Qlipoth roots. You meet Dante’s enraged eyes with your own, making him pause.

“Yes, he is. Now get a hold of yourself, Dante. We don’t have time for this right now. We can deal with it after Urizen is gone,” you reply firmly, leaving no room for argument.

He shakes his head and is silent for a few long moments, his hands slowly relaxing and his lips twisting into a smirk as he faces you once more.

“There’s that fire. Careful not to burn him, sweetheart,” he comments wryly, his flirtatious tone making your fingers twitch angrily.

“Lucky me, I can’t get burned,” he adds slyly, and you growl in frustration at your own restraint keeping you from slapping him silly.

V cackles softly, his emerald eyes rising to meet Dante’s blue. His amused smirk soothes your anger as he speaks. “If any could desire what he is incapable of possessing, despair must be his eternal lot,” the poet quips sarcastically and you have to choke back your laughter. He winks at you, clearly noticing your mirth. Dante grimaces but doesn’t respond to the teasing, instead finally focusing on what’s important.

“Hey, where’d that garbage god go? What is Urizen after?” the brash man asks you both.

“He’s at the top of the Qlipoth,” V answers in a strained whisper. Trish steps over to join your trio, adding her own considerable knowledge to the conversation easily.

“It's the other way around, Dante. This is the lowest level of the Qliphoth's upper echelon. Human blood is the source of demons' power. The fruit born through the Qliphoth is even more dense than the blood that created it. Its power is unparalleled. Even the almighty Mundus used it to become king of the Underworld. V told me everything,” the blonde woman explains carefully, crossing her arms and tossing a dismissive nod of her head at the poet.

Dante gives her a look as he responds, striding away confidently.

“Yeah, well, that’s a lovely story and all, but… as long as we know where to find him,” he rumbles, his hands already hovering near his waist in preparation for the showdown. Nico steps into his path with a huge grin and you almost laugh as she meets her personal hero for the first time, her nervousness evident in her every motion. If this moment wasn’t so obviously important to her, you’d already have her in your arms in a relieved hug.

“Whoa! You are the infamous Dante! Um, I'm Nicoletta Goldstein. Sounds familiar? My grandmother is Nell Goldstein. The gunsmith that made all your fancy weapons that you got... strapped... back there...” she gestures lamely at the two pistols strapped within Dante’s coat and he pulls them out to show them to her kindly.  

Nico points to one of the portraits on the handle excitedly. “Yeah, there she is!” she exclaims proudly. Dante glances between the portrait and Nico doubtfully.

“You don't look much like her...” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I got my looks from my daddy. That's about all I got from him,” her southern drawl replies, but your attention is elsewhere as Nero steps forward from behind the van. You dash over to envelop him in a hug, hopelessly thankful that your friend is alright. He briefly hugs you back, agitated by something and not entirely focused on you. He doesn’t even scratch the back of his neck like he always has in the past at any sign of physical affection. Nico’s voice rises even higher as she presents a gift to the man in red and you both glance over silently.

“Um...it--it-- consider it a gift! In honor of us finally meeting! Meeting,” she tells Dante, holding out a white cowboy hat with a small piece of demonic decoration adorning it. Dante shakes it suspiciously, as if he expects something to fall out of it, but the hat instead leaps onto his head. Your eyes widen as a red and black scarf forms around his neck and he winks right at you before smirking and dancing to music only he can hear.

His moves, while skilled, are ridiculous. He adds several exclamations and crotch grabs, ending with a moonwalk and a pose that is an obvious imitation of Michael Jackson. Nico claps happily, laughing as the man in red nods at her.

“I’ll take that,” he states simply and walks away, clearly about to resume his hunt for Urizen. Nero quickly joins him, an angry scowl on his expressive face.

“Dante! I'm gonna go too,” the young warrior informs him. Dante turns around to face him with a serious look on his face.

“Why don't you sit this one out?” the devil hunter asks, trying to be kind.

Nero is having none of it and his scowl deepens. “Oh, and let you call me dead weight again? No thanks. I got all the power I need. Right here,” he retorts, flourishing his metal arm to emphasize his readiness for battle. The whole conversation makes no sense to you; Nero is a capable fighter, already having proven himself many times over in your eyes.

 Why doesn’t Dante want him coming along?

“You don't understand. That's not what I mean,” he begins, exasperated.

“Let him go, Dante. Time is a luxury we can no longer afford. We must chase after him, post-haste,” V pipes up from his perch, carefully standing and limping over to the two men. Being near them only highlights how weakened he is, how frail his posture marks him to be and you frown, anxiety tugging at your thoughts.

“Why? Does this mean you're going too?” Dante replies in confusion.

“I have a duty to see this through,” the poet reminds him hoarsely, and you step over to stand beside him in silent support. Your breath hitches painfully as you notice more flakes of his flesh floating away in the still air. Dante shrugs, walking backward to the edge of the small area your group stands upon with a smirk.

“Well that's all you have to say, Mr. Poetry. I'm gonna go my way, you guys can go yours. Let's just say that's best for the cause,” he claims, and jumps over the edge without any further comment. Nero and V exchange a look but follow quickly behind him, each choosing their own pathway. V twists his wrist and Griffon’s side of his body lightens as the bird appears overhead, swooping around to take his outstretched arm and carry him to the next level. You wait impatiently until Griffon comes back for you.

“C’mon, little lady! No time to waste!” the mouthy demon informs you and you roll your eyes as his claws close around your arms and carry you to join V below.

Notes:        

....and none of them were ever seen again. The End.

XD

I'm considering skipping a bit ahead to the bit with Malphas as I've already written part of it and it would take at least a few days to get a full chapter if I don't skip forward. Also, that part is boring. And I get to stare at a bunch of amazing pictures as "research" for the cinematic ^.^

So this song came over my playlist as I am prepping this post and HOLY WOW it's like it was written about this chapter! On a side note this is my all time favorite band. ONE AMONG THE FENCE! If anyone's curious, PLEASE ask me about it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1hs4fj-B-k

An extra large milkshake (or smoothie if you're lactose intolerant) to everyone who reads and leaves kudos, and a side of fries or a side salad to everyone who comments! (I'm hungry now)

Next chapter - we either reach Malphas or actually have the fight, we'll see.