31_days | [Feb 17] [Hellsing/Devil May Cry] Love Planet

Title: Love Planet
Day/Theme: Feb. 17 - “All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial”
Series: Hellsing/Devil May Cry
Character/Pairing: Dante Sparda & Seras Victoria
Rating: PG

[follows bullseye & café fredi]

Seras sat on the edge of the couch, chin resting on her hand. Dante had left her there a few minutes ago, after they'd walked back from the ice-cream parlour. Patty had said goodbye half way back, and had disappeared into the city. She'd promised to come by later. Her new demon friend had led her back to his place - taking a short-cut through the bar from last night and the empty strip-club next door - and deposited her on the dingy sofa, and instructed her to wait. Apparently he knew a guy who knew a guy, and he'd be right back. That had been ten minutes ago now.

Wondering what to do with herself, she'd rummaged through her jacket (which Dante had kindly returned to her that morning) and found her mobile. The battery was getting low, but its jewel blue display still informed her that she had four missed calls and an answerphone message. All were from HQ. She'd stared at the phone's screen for several minutes, contemplating calling Sir Integral and giving the report she should have given the night before, but eventually she'd just flipped the thing closed and tossed it back into her jacket pocket, discarding the jacket on the floor. It had been so long since she'd been out of the mansion, and free of her commander's orders or her master's control. Strange as it was, she felt safe with the half-devil. She was going to enjoy her freedom for a bit. Make them wait.

Before he left, he'd let her pull the office curtains over the smeared windows, shutting out the most glaring of the sun's rays. Once the room was darker, Seras felt more awake, and no longer found herself viewing the world through narrowed eyes. As a result, she felt more indisposed to inspecting the space which the demon inhabited.

She didn't have a lot of experience with demons; none of her lot did. She wondered for the first time if they were a regional problem; if the barrier between this world and theirs was weaker in certain areas than in others, and that was why the Organisation only made them its business as an afterthought. She supposed Iscariot would have a better idea of how to go about things.

She didn't know a lot about demons, then. Even so, Dante's office didn't really look, to her, like a devil's lair.

It was large and roughly square shaped, with a dusty wooden floor and peeling, cracked walls plastered over here and there with posters of half naked women. At intervals the walls were further adorned with various trophies from her host's hunts - strange curios, alien-looking skulls, and weapons. With a slight shudder, she recognised the blade he had wielded when they'd fought the previous night. As she looked at it, it caught the light and glinted blue. For an instant she thought she saw a heat shimmer rise from the metal of its blade, and she looked away. Above it was hung a longer sword, a carved skull decorating the guard. Above that were two curved blades, crossed; one was a rusty, brownish red, and the other a dark, metallic blue. The pommel of each, she realised with a shudder, was a head, round and shrunken, with closed eyes and downturned mouths.

She pulled her arms around herself and rose from the battered couch. Apart from the weapons, the room was sparsely furnished. A pool table which seemed out of place, a drum kit and sundry other bits of clutter under the stairs that led to Dante's private rooms, and a dented jukebox in the opposite corner. Old pizza boxes lay carelessly stacked and forgotten in corners. On a hatstand by Dante's desk hung a damp towel, and a battered red leather coat. She scuffed her way across the room to inspect it. It was not the coat she'd seen him wear. She wondered if he had a stock of them somewhere.

She turned back to the weapons. More swords, a set of three-way nunchucks, gauntlets, grieves, and a glass case for guns. She guessed that this was not his whole collection of firearms. Two spaces remained empty - the black and silver pistols he seemed to carry at all times. She turned; near the drum kit was another set of brackets, cradling not a sword, but what looked like a unique, angular guitar. She frowned and moved closer. It was a deep, sensuous purple, and as she drew nearer the air around it seemed to take on a faint violet aura, and then crackle softly.

"So you two've met then."

Standing in the doorway, a lidded cardboard box safely under his arm, Dante smiled as he saw the vampire girl yelp and jerk away from the guitar.

"I didn't touch anything," she said. Dante shook his head and moved into the room, setting the box down on the desk.

"Don't worry about it."

She approached him almost timidly, her hands behind her back and an amiable smile on her face. "It's... an impressive collection you have."

Dante gave a half shrug. He didn't give a lot of thought to most of the weapons arranged there anymore. He had his favourites that he used most often - Rebellion, Alastor, Ebony and Ivory - and the rest became part of the furniture.

"Most of them are just souvenirs." He nodded to the guitar. "I thought you might be interested in that one."

"Why's that?"

He gestured vaguely with one arm, indicating the selection of weaponry. "Most of these are 'devil arms' - weapons that hold the soul of a demon inside them."

Her eyes got all round again, like they did when she was surprised or shocked. She was remarkably easy to read.

"Did you seal them yourself?" she said. She sounded awed; it pained him to disappoint her.

"Some of them. Most of 'em sealed themselves, once they were too weak to keep their own bodies. See, there's kind of this demon tradition..." She inclined her head, face expectant.

He cleared his throat and continued. "Once you've been beaten in a fight, it's normal to surrender your soul to the guy who beat you."

"That's really... odd."

"I guess. Anyway." He turned and gestured to the array of weaponry. "Not all the swords are devil arms."

"Which ones are? How did you beat them? Were they very powerful demons?"

Dante laughed. She sounded like a kid, so eager, so interested. He guessed demons weren't regular opponents for her. Gratified to find himself a captive audience, he said, "Okay," and pointed out each weapon as he explained: "Those crossed swords? They hold the demons Agni and Rudra, twin guardians with the powers of wind and fire. They're eager to please, but... chatty. They're asleep right now." He fought not to laugh at her expression. He moved on. "Cerberus."

"The three headed dog?"

"The same. He was the first one I got. I was nineteen." He pointed next to the first set of gauntlets, and the grieves that matched them. "Those hold the demon Beowulf. Annoying bastard with a grudge... Wish I'd killed him myself." Ignoring Seras' questioning look, he moved on. "Ifrit and Alastor were already sealed when I got them."

"Is it weird knowing all your weapons have names, have souls?"

"Maybe, a little."

"...So what about this guitar?"

"Ah." He grinned. They moved back over to where Nevan rested. "I told you I hadn't fought a vampire in a while. This was the last one I met."

He watched the girl's eyes widen again, she stared at the weapon.

"This holds the soul of a vampire?"

Dante nodded. "Yup. Nevan... Apparently she and my father were on, ha, friendly terms."

"And this is a weapon...?" She raised her hand, and the air around the guitar flickered black. He thought he saw a thin arc of purple electricity jump from Nevan to Seras' fingers.

"Definitely the most fun weapon I have. You should try her out sometime." He folded his arms. When she didn't speak for a while, he said, "What're you thinking?"

She hesitated, and did not turn to face him. "If you beat this vampire and sealed her soul in a weapon... That means... so many things..." She turned around then. Her expression was hard to read, but there was a bright, hard glimmer in her eyes. "It means that vampires really are devils, which explains why we use blessed bullets and crucifixes, and why they work. But more important than that: it proves that demons - and vampires - do have souls after all."

He frowned at her. "Of course we have souls. You thought you didn't have one?"

"I... I don't know. My master..."

"Your what?"

She was turning away from him again, her head bowed, brow furrowed as she thought.

He had never questioned his existence all that much, except to reap the advantages of having demonic powers, and to be irritated by the legacy his father had pushed on him. He had never thought in the way that she seemed to. Maybe it was the scripture she seemed to have shoved down her neck every day; she hadn't told him all that much about her work, her "Organisation", but she'd said enough.

Religion wasn't a big deal for him, despite what he was. He may have been to Hell and back, but he had no proof that Heaven was real. He'd never met her Christian Devil, either, not in any of his numerous trips to the Underworld - as far back as he knew, the demon hierarchy ended at Mundus, and he was no fallen angel.

He wanted to say something, wanted to shake her out of her thoughts and make her laugh instead. He put one hand on her shoulder and turned her so they were face to face.

"Hey." She looked up at him, startled out of he reverie. She met his eyes, and they didn't move for a long moment; it felt like a thread hung taught between them. It snapped when Dante clumsily broke the silence. "You still hungry?"

Seras blinked, and Dante moved to the box. "I got some stuff for you. Blood." He took off the lid, reached inside, and drew out a clear plastic pack of blood. Inside the box were several more. He saw Seras' face brighten at the sight of it, and he tossed it to her. "I know a guy. Don't worry, no one died to 'donate' this. I got you some clothes too."

"What?"

"If you hadn't noticed, yours are a little worse for wear." She looked down at herself; her clothes were singed, burnt at the edges, and her stockings had holes in them. Her top had a large ragged hole over her stomach, though the wound beneath had healed.

She let out a low moan. "I can't believe I've been walking around in public like this."

He chuckled. "I dropped in on a friend. She's lent you some stuff; you'll meet her later." He upturned the box, and a small assortment of Lady's clothing fell onto the desk.

"Oh! Thank you..." Her face broke into a grin, and Dante smiled too. She may be a nocturnal creature, but it was like sunlight when she smiled. "You really didn't have to."

He shrugged again. He was about to speak, but was interrupted by the phone on the desk beginning to ring, loud and obnoxious. Sighing slightly, he picked up. As a familiar voice spoke to him through the earpiece, he watched Seras gratefully inspect Lady's cast-offs.

At the end of the call he hung up and faced Seras, smirking. She looked up, questioning.

"Everything okay?" she said.

"Uhuh. That was my old partner. You'd better drink up quick and get your strength back, 'cause we're going hunting."