Thunderhead
folder
+A through F › Devil May Cry
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
2,298
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+A through F › Devil May Cry
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
2,298
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Devil May Cry game series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Thunderhead
Thunderhead
A/N: DISCLAIMER! I do not own DMC1, I just borrow their stars, savage them, and return the later beaten broken and bruised with cum smeared across their faces.
Thanks to Allie, who inspired the idea for this.
Chapter 1: The Eye of the Storm
~~~~~~~~~~
Torn, faded red curtains could barely contain the storm outside. The glass, flawed with old age, rattled its warning. Tiny pellets of rain drove against the tin roof, like so many nails on a coffin.
Whoever thought of a tin roof was sadistic and deaf.
In retrospect, he could’ve realized the storm would get bigger, and spent those precious few hours finding a better shelter. Instead of looking back at Vergil.
Verge…
The mad, tinny patter slowed, and for a moment Dante thought it would stop. But as he looked to the soaking, hunched over form huddled in front of a sooty fireplace, the rain picked up again.
Vergil’s face was ashen, pale and weary of the driving rain. It had followed the brothers all the way to the mainland, driving them with all the mercy of a master to his slaves. They hadn’t said a word to each other; even Dante’s cry upon seeing his brother’s beaten and bloody body, was silent.
And now this rain. This demanding, invading rain.
They were soaked, chilled to their very black bones. Dante fought off the ivy-like cold, like he fought off everything else that bothered him. Vergil wallowed in it, not guilty or sickened or bothered at all. Just tired of the rain, and the silence beyond it. They both were. Maddeningly so.
A torrent of unexpected water exploded onto the roof, dragging a long-since fallen branch to dangle and scrape the window. Dante cleared back a few feet, all at once dropping his sodden bag with a low keen. It was the first sound either of them had made, and Dante’s lips parted as though they had been glued shut.
“Vergil.”
Vergil, with eyes and skin as pale as ice, let out of breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and slowly turned. There was a pregnant silence, as ice met the very heat of fiery eyes. They were so different, so unlike, so unnaturally distant. It seemed as though a wall of deep glass separated them.
Dante took in his brother, possibly for the first time in many years. He saw a shivered, thinner and taller reflection of himself, no longer the vacant body he hadn’t recognized on Malet island.
Outside, the bully gail wind beat the tress and whipped the ground.
“Christ….Verge, you’re practically blue…”
And, just like that, glass shattered and Dante stepped through, breaking through the rotten walls of time and wizened memory to embrace his brother in warm strong arms. The feeling was abrasive, raw in its utter simplicity. Slowly, the pieces of a shattered mind fit back into place. Just as slowly, Vergil disentangled his arms from the musty blanket, and wrapped them around his brother.
~~~~~
A/N: DISCLAIMER! I do not own DMC1, I just borrow their stars, savage them, and return the later beaten broken and bruised with cum smeared across their faces.
Thanks to Allie, who inspired the idea for this.
Chapter 1: The Eye of the Storm
~~~~~~~~~~
Torn, faded red curtains could barely contain the storm outside. The glass, flawed with old age, rattled its warning. Tiny pellets of rain drove against the tin roof, like so many nails on a coffin.
Whoever thought of a tin roof was sadistic and deaf.
In retrospect, he could’ve realized the storm would get bigger, and spent those precious few hours finding a better shelter. Instead of looking back at Vergil.
Verge…
The mad, tinny patter slowed, and for a moment Dante thought it would stop. But as he looked to the soaking, hunched over form huddled in front of a sooty fireplace, the rain picked up again.
Vergil’s face was ashen, pale and weary of the driving rain. It had followed the brothers all the way to the mainland, driving them with all the mercy of a master to his slaves. They hadn’t said a word to each other; even Dante’s cry upon seeing his brother’s beaten and bloody body, was silent.
And now this rain. This demanding, invading rain.
They were soaked, chilled to their very black bones. Dante fought off the ivy-like cold, like he fought off everything else that bothered him. Vergil wallowed in it, not guilty or sickened or bothered at all. Just tired of the rain, and the silence beyond it. They both were. Maddeningly so.
A torrent of unexpected water exploded onto the roof, dragging a long-since fallen branch to dangle and scrape the window. Dante cleared back a few feet, all at once dropping his sodden bag with a low keen. It was the first sound either of them had made, and Dante’s lips parted as though they had been glued shut.
“Vergil.”
Vergil, with eyes and skin as pale as ice, let out of breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and slowly turned. There was a pregnant silence, as ice met the very heat of fiery eyes. They were so different, so unlike, so unnaturally distant. It seemed as though a wall of deep glass separated them.
Dante took in his brother, possibly for the first time in many years. He saw a shivered, thinner and taller reflection of himself, no longer the vacant body he hadn’t recognized on Malet island.
Outside, the bully gail wind beat the tress and whipped the ground.
“Christ….Verge, you’re practically blue…”
And, just like that, glass shattered and Dante stepped through, breaking through the rotten walls of time and wizened memory to embrace his brother in warm strong arms. The feeling was abrasive, raw in its utter simplicity. Slowly, the pieces of a shattered mind fit back into place. Just as slowly, Vergil disentangled his arms from the musty blanket, and wrapped them around his brother.
~~~~~