BACKSTORY PART 2 // CLOSED
Characters: Dydrial and Angelo
Rating: PG again? Same warnings apply. Angst. omg. :o
The door slammed behind him, and Angelo took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. That woman... that blasted woman was no more than a nuisance waiting to be slaughtered. A harsh scowl twisted itself into his features, and he reached up and yanked the blindfold from his head, nonchalantly throwing it onto the bed in front of him.
He scanned the room with his eyes. A small room, indeed. Little more than an oversized closet with an old bed shoved in the corner, and not quite earning the word "cozy." Not that it was too much of a big deal-Angelo's main concern was to steal something valuable from the wench and hightail it out of there before dawn. Yes, he was still exhausted, but one more night of travel wouldn't kill him. At least he'd hoped it wouldn't.
He took another deep breath, this time less sharp and agitated, and walked over to the tiny bed. Tilting his head to the side, he briefly wondered if such a thing could support his weight. And so his mind wandered again. He found it funny how, when he was younger, he had been much, much heaver. It was strange to think that he had turned out the way he did. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Everything was strange nowadays. He sat down on the bed and leaned back to set his head against the wall. He closed his eyes and tried not to let his mind wander too much as he waited for signs that his host was asleep.
Minutes passed into an hour, then two, and Dydrial's book on the various genetic mutations of reptiles seemed to dull more by the second. Despite her intentions to remain away and watchful, Dydrial began to feel drowsiness tickling at the edges of her vision and trickling off-the-wall thoughts into her mind. Thoughts of a suspicious, mean-spirited half-devil gave way to rabbits and spiders and green, green grass that filtered into her mind's eye as her grip on reality slipped slowly into dreams. Her hands loosened on the book, letting it lean back onto her lap and close half-way.
Her head tilted forward until her chin rested on her chest, and though her eyes remained open in an eerie gaze, she was quite asleep. Her own bed seemed neglected, queen-sized as it was with her perched on the bare edge of it, on top of the neatly made - if worn - covers and her long black robe still wrapped tightly around her. Tired as she was, she became used to seeing that shining aura behind the walls in the next room, and so now paid it little mind as it sat unmoving.
At a rough estimate, Angelo waited approximately twenty minutes until the turning of pages ceased. It could have been longer, for all he knew, as his constantly running mind had been turning in a thousand circles. He opened his eyes and looked over at the door, not bothering to lift his head from the wall just yet. The light in the next room was still on. For all he knew, the woman could have been daydreaming or trying to catch him or something absurd like that. She seemed the type to do such a thing. Damn woman...
He shifted his weight forward and moved to the edge of the bed, feet touching the floor. It was now or never, and even if the wretch were still awake, he could make up some lie about having to get an early start. Or something. He'd think of it if and when the time came. Grabbing his blindfold and tying it back around his eyes, Angelo pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the door, opening it slowly.
Nothing yet. No sounds, no annoyed sighs-nothing. And, again, for all he knew, Dydrial could be sitting on her bed shooting daggers at him. It was for this reason he walked slower than he'd have liked, and refrained from taking a peek around. If he could make it to the other door, he knew he'd be scott-free. At least, with everything else, that's what he'd hoped...
That glaring light stirred, moved to open the door and walked slowly into her room. At some point during this, Dydrial's mind slowly began processing bits and pieces of reality now and then. As he reached her door - ever so carefully - she began to come aware of her surroundings, but made no move nor change of breath.
It took a moment before she recalled her reasons for having this stranger in the guest room, and as her eyes focused, she kept her stare blankly forward at her lap, seeing him moving with her peripheral vision. So... was he truly a sneak, or just very uncomfortable? Obviously, she was not a gracious hostess. She could have simply put him off. But she knew better... this man was dangerous, and in need of something that could only be found here. At least he had the good manners not to kill them all to obtain it. Yet, what could be so important? Waiting patiently for him to be a good distance from her room so she could follow without being caught, she sat there, feigning sleep.
Reaching the door, he held out a hand and grabbed hold of the knob. Slowly but surely, and most definitely gently, he pushed the door open, trying not to make a sound. So far, so good. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as he walked through the doorway, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Too easy, he thought. This was way too easy. He made a mental note that Dydrial was one of those women who acted as if she were tough shit, but in reality, was a pushover. Interesting. And at the comfort of that thought, Angelo was suddenly less irritated with the woman, understanding she had to talk big in order to keep her head in the world. Perhaps he would not kill her so soon, after all...
He made his way back down to the laboratory, and pushed his blindfold up to his forehead so that he could see without the sheer black screen from the cloth that obscured some of his vision (yet have it in a position to snap it back down if need be), and cringed slightly at the sight before him. What he wanted from this woman would have been a lot easier to obtain had she known the meaning of the word, 'organization.' Regardless, he walked over to the first stack of papers he saw, and began sifting through them, hoping to catch a glimpse of something of interest.
Nothing. All biology mumbo jumbo that didn't appeal to him in the slightest. He sighed and turned, trying a different part of the room entirely. Sifting slightly faster this time, again, he came up with nothing. How irritating. He moved over towards what appeared to be her main desk. The woman wouldn't have been so simple as to place such information in such an obvious spot, would she? Regardless, he searched.
"Jackpot," he whispered, sliding a piece of paper out from the bottom of the pile. He stood there for a few seconds, almost in awe of what he had found-it seemed to be a listing of some sort with various names on it, and down towards the bottom was the name Dante Sparda.
Once she detected he was a decent distance down the maze of hallways, Dydrial rose and cinched her robe around her thin waist, tucking a long, thin dagger in the belt. Not that it'd do her much good. She then made her way to her lab on silent, bare feet. She kept her breathing as quiet as could be, then waited patiently for the ventilation system to begin cycling the stale air and filtering it. She couldn't help the tiniest smirk as the system came on with a whir and a slight buzz. Confident that her steps were now as well covered as could be, she made her way slowly, patient as an owl and twice as observant.
Sure enough, the door to her lab was cracked open. Holding her breath, she crept towards it to peer in at the intruder. That lovely platinum hair fell between his shoulders as he stood with his back to her before her desk. Damn it all if she cared now whether he knew of her presence, she had caught him.
Pulling to door open enough to lean on the frame, she released the breath she'd been holding in a small sigh. He could kill her... oh yes, quite easily from the looks of it. She had been thinking of who he was, why he was here. The most obvious answer played in her mind, but she couldn't be sure just yet. Gambling with her very life - something she had become quite use to - she spoke, in that dull, quiet tone of hers, "Sleep enough already? It was well, I hope..." Ever so sarcastic, she was.
For a second, just a second, Angelo's breath caught in his throat. The mental note he had made just a few seconds before was vehemently crossed out. And if he wasn't absolutely certain at this point that he needed her for information, Dydrial could have and would have been dead at that very moment.
He reached up and pushed his blindfold back over his eyes, making it seem like he was covering his face with his hand in annoyance. And he was, in fact, extremely annoyed at that point. Not just with her for so much as living, but with himself for getting caught. Despite this, he made no effort to hide what he had found. Dropping his arm back to his side, he stood still where he was, keeping up with the trend of not turning towards her at all.
"Lovely sleep," he said dryly, "dearest biologist. That is all you do, correct?"
A small smile tugged each corner of her lips. Caught him she had, and she couldn't help the small relief that he hadn't immediately spun around and committed one of his aforementioned acts of devilry. He seemed amply annoyed, though. Taking two steps into the room, she closed the door behind her. Try as he might to keep up his charade, a blind man -devil or no- couldn't read.
She resumed her leaning against the wall, content to talk with him facing toward or away, whatever he preferred. He was still very dangerous, and now she had him backed into a corner. "About as smart as backing a rabid badger into a small hole..." she thought. Aloud she replied blithely, "Mostly. I do have my hobbies. It must be a great talent to be able to read printed documents... considering you're blind."
She kept her arms folded over her chest, watching his back keenly and eyeing the document piles he had shuffled through. Not that he'd made the mess any worse...
So she knew he wasn't blind. It was a moot point at the moment. Being blind wasn't something he worried about so much as his name... And that was something that he could deal with in a much simpler manner. And speaking of simple matters, he wished that the one he had just gotten himself into was easier. Of course he'd been in worse situations, but this was on the verge of monotonous. Oh, again with the hoping, he had hoped he could end this here.
"I'm a man of many talents," he said. He turned around slowly to face her, face blank. He took a step towards her, straightening his posture to his full height, taking on an air of power and near threat. No more games could he bear to play. He continued, his words poison. "Or did you not notice that?"
He didn't expect an answer, nor did he want one. He held the paper up in front of her face, making sure she got a good look at what he had found. "You must have the same talents, miss, in order to have such rare and valuable information." His mouth twisted into a scowl. "Come now, come now," he continued, again without waiting for a response, "and tell Uncle Angelo where you found such a thing."
He could only be one of two people, she now knew. The paper held the name of a hunter, a half devil named Dante. Dante was in Solamente Asilo, last she knew, and this man -who fit the desciption in all but personality - was looking for him. Yet wasn't Vergil dead? Last she'd heard of the two, they'd fought for whatever reasons and Dante was the last one standing... at least in this world. Strange times they were in. Rather than set her even more on edge, the thought piqued her curiosity. Why wasn't he heading one of Hell's armies now? Why the blindfold? And why was he here, of all places? Information, obviously... but to what end?
Ever the scientist, she studied him, her mind picking at this or that and trying to dissect the reasons for him being here. Briefly, she entertained the thought of studying the devil himself. Unfortunately - she realized quickly - he probably wouldn't be a willing test subject. Too bad. He would be the ultimate, perfect specimen. Even now, with him so very near and threatening, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end, she couldn't help thinking of that.
She huffed softly at his words, knowing she was on dangerous ground. It sent the slightest thrill through her. She must have become very, very bored over the years. Her tone was dead and dry as she mused, "I, like you, do possess quite a few talents. How I came upon such information is of little consequence." She made no attempt to straighten to her own full height, since he was obviously not one to be intimidated. "And you, sir, are not old enough to be my dear uncle. Anyway, I assume you are looking for your brother. Am I right, Angelo?" She made a quiet mockery of the name she now knew to be false.
Brother? Brother? The very mention of the word made Angelo's unseen eyes flare up in anger. His scowl deepened, and something that had been tugged on for a very long time within him had finally snapped. He reached out with his free hand and grabbed Dydrial by the edge of her robe-near the neck-and pulled her in close towards him. He leaned down, tilting his head to the side, and brought his face in deathly close to hers. His words were loud and focused, as he made sure she understood exactly what he said.
"I am no man's son."
He held her there for a few good seconds, contemplating what action to take against her next. Would it be too much to kill her right then and there? Or would a simple shove across the room suffice. Instead, he did nothing more than wait for a response.
The notable arch of both brows was her only visible expression when he yanked her so close. Not that he could see them, she assumed. That small thrill ran cold through her blood, and she squinted a little at the flare of power her second sight detected. Would he kill her? He certainly could. Should he? Or did she still retain something he needed? That he would cease to associated himself with his family was something she had a hard time understanding. Perhaps he was still angry with his brother, in which case she'd have all the more reason to keep any further information from him, even at the cost of her own life. Calmness remained embedded in her. He may kill her, but what of the others in the base? Would he take what he needed and leave as silently as he'd come? Or would he slaughter them all in a rage? That was one theory Dydrial was unwilling to test.
Still, she couldn't help the question, her voice curious and no longer mocking him. Cold, dead save the inquiry in her tone.
"Then, what are you? And what has brought you here?"
His grip on her was uncomfortable, yet she endured, allowing for whatever he willed for the moment. Her hand was near to that slender dagger, yet made no move for it. Little good it would do her, she knew. Up close she noted the flawless, ageless face and the inhuman strength in his grip. A perfect specimen indeed.
"I am nothing."
Those were his only words as he released her-slightly more violently than he had intended. He turned from her, head bowed in... regret? No. In truth. His heart sank at the fact that it was, indeed, the way he felt. He was nothing. In the middle of dark and light. Not worthy to hold his father's name, yet not tainted enough to keep the darkness handed to him. The way he saw it, he was a failure. He was nothing. He clenched both fists, crinkling the paper he held as he did so.
Such feelings passed as quickly as they had come. Self-loathing and shame were quickly replaced by the cold, numbing feeling he had come to know and live with for so long. He raised his head, yet made a point to not turn towards her again.
"Where is the son of Sparda now?" he asked. "Tell me and I'll leave this place without harming you, your visitors, or ruining any of your little science projects. He has something that belongs to me. I want it back."
She stumbled as her released her, but kept her footing and stood, straightening herself. Her brows lowered and furrowed slightly as she watched that intense aura diminish, dimming to a ember-like glow. How odd. His own words shocked her. This was a man who was - or at least seemed to be - proud. His own words seem to make him wither momentarily, and she was moved to something close to pity. At least until he spoke again.
So Dante had something of his? She couldn't trust that he wouldn't lie to her, or that his former ill will to his brother had changed. She was in a bit of a quandary. "Dante is a great hunter." Her voice remained in monotone. "He is the best asset we have against the powers of Hell. I've never met him personally, nor do I owe him any allegiance beyond that. But I cannot tell you anything when I am unsure of your intentions... given past circumstances." There, the truth.
At that very moment, a little voice piped up in Angelo's head that said, 'Kill her, kill her, KILL HER.' And he wanted to. Very badly, at that moment, did he want her to taste blood. He had just given her the most sincere, pure-intentioned offer he could think of, and still she was being difficult. However, he scolded himself that he wasn't in Hell anymore, and that there were no easier or alternate methods of getting what he wanted at this point. A bad taste formed in his mouth.
"Understood," he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He slapped the document he had found back onto Dydrial's desk, and started for the door back towards the bedrooms. "Then if you'll excuse me," he continued without slowing or stopping, "I believe you promised me a room for the night." He mentally added that she'd better hope her guests had good heads on their shoulders, as one of them may end up being compensation for such an ordeal in the not so distant future. Maybe. If he was in the mood.
And with that, he was gone.
She exhaled a breath she hadn't been aware of holding as he passed her. Somehow she felt she'd very narrowly escaped certain death, and through no means of her own. Walking slowly over to her desk once he was gone, she picked up the paper and folded it neatly, tucking it in her robe. She fought the annoying feeling that she had wronged him in some way. It nibbled at her thoughts, even as she locked her lab and made her way back to her room. Sitting upon the bed and now far too immersed in thought to sleep, she pondered over a way out of this strange situation, beyond letting the man walk away. Oh... how she wanted to let him do just that.
But still... she felt wrong.
Rating: PG again? Same warnings apply. Angst. omg. :o
The door slammed behind him, and Angelo took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. That woman... that blasted woman was no more than a nuisance waiting to be slaughtered. A harsh scowl twisted itself into his features, and he reached up and yanked the blindfold from his head, nonchalantly throwing it onto the bed in front of him.
He scanned the room with his eyes. A small room, indeed. Little more than an oversized closet with an old bed shoved in the corner, and not quite earning the word "cozy." Not that it was too much of a big deal-Angelo's main concern was to steal something valuable from the wench and hightail it out of there before dawn. Yes, he was still exhausted, but one more night of travel wouldn't kill him. At least he'd hoped it wouldn't.
He took another deep breath, this time less sharp and agitated, and walked over to the tiny bed. Tilting his head to the side, he briefly wondered if such a thing could support his weight. And so his mind wandered again. He found it funny how, when he was younger, he had been much, much heaver. It was strange to think that he had turned out the way he did. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Everything was strange nowadays. He sat down on the bed and leaned back to set his head against the wall. He closed his eyes and tried not to let his mind wander too much as he waited for signs that his host was asleep.
Minutes passed into an hour, then two, and Dydrial's book on the various genetic mutations of reptiles seemed to dull more by the second. Despite her intentions to remain away and watchful, Dydrial began to feel drowsiness tickling at the edges of her vision and trickling off-the-wall thoughts into her mind. Thoughts of a suspicious, mean-spirited half-devil gave way to rabbits and spiders and green, green grass that filtered into her mind's eye as her grip on reality slipped slowly into dreams. Her hands loosened on the book, letting it lean back onto her lap and close half-way.
Her head tilted forward until her chin rested on her chest, and though her eyes remained open in an eerie gaze, she was quite asleep. Her own bed seemed neglected, queen-sized as it was with her perched on the bare edge of it, on top of the neatly made - if worn - covers and her long black robe still wrapped tightly around her. Tired as she was, she became used to seeing that shining aura behind the walls in the next room, and so now paid it little mind as it sat unmoving.
At a rough estimate, Angelo waited approximately twenty minutes until the turning of pages ceased. It could have been longer, for all he knew, as his constantly running mind had been turning in a thousand circles. He opened his eyes and looked over at the door, not bothering to lift his head from the wall just yet. The light in the next room was still on. For all he knew, the woman could have been daydreaming or trying to catch him or something absurd like that. She seemed the type to do such a thing. Damn woman...
He shifted his weight forward and moved to the edge of the bed, feet touching the floor. It was now or never, and even if the wretch were still awake, he could make up some lie about having to get an early start. Or something. He'd think of it if and when the time came. Grabbing his blindfold and tying it back around his eyes, Angelo pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the door, opening it slowly.
Nothing yet. No sounds, no annoyed sighs-nothing. And, again, for all he knew, Dydrial could be sitting on her bed shooting daggers at him. It was for this reason he walked slower than he'd have liked, and refrained from taking a peek around. If he could make it to the other door, he knew he'd be scott-free. At least, with everything else, that's what he'd hoped...
That glaring light stirred, moved to open the door and walked slowly into her room. At some point during this, Dydrial's mind slowly began processing bits and pieces of reality now and then. As he reached her door - ever so carefully - she began to come aware of her surroundings, but made no move nor change of breath.
It took a moment before she recalled her reasons for having this stranger in the guest room, and as her eyes focused, she kept her stare blankly forward at her lap, seeing him moving with her peripheral vision. So... was he truly a sneak, or just very uncomfortable? Obviously, she was not a gracious hostess. She could have simply put him off. But she knew better... this man was dangerous, and in need of something that could only be found here. At least he had the good manners not to kill them all to obtain it. Yet, what could be so important? Waiting patiently for him to be a good distance from her room so she could follow without being caught, she sat there, feigning sleep.
Reaching the door, he held out a hand and grabbed hold of the knob. Slowly but surely, and most definitely gently, he pushed the door open, trying not to make a sound. So far, so good. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as he walked through the doorway, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Too easy, he thought. This was way too easy. He made a mental note that Dydrial was one of those women who acted as if she were tough shit, but in reality, was a pushover. Interesting. And at the comfort of that thought, Angelo was suddenly less irritated with the woman, understanding she had to talk big in order to keep her head in the world. Perhaps he would not kill her so soon, after all...
He made his way back down to the laboratory, and pushed his blindfold up to his forehead so that he could see without the sheer black screen from the cloth that obscured some of his vision (yet have it in a position to snap it back down if need be), and cringed slightly at the sight before him. What he wanted from this woman would have been a lot easier to obtain had she known the meaning of the word, 'organization.' Regardless, he walked over to the first stack of papers he saw, and began sifting through them, hoping to catch a glimpse of something of interest.
Nothing. All biology mumbo jumbo that didn't appeal to him in the slightest. He sighed and turned, trying a different part of the room entirely. Sifting slightly faster this time, again, he came up with nothing. How irritating. He moved over towards what appeared to be her main desk. The woman wouldn't have been so simple as to place such information in such an obvious spot, would she? Regardless, he searched.
"Jackpot," he whispered, sliding a piece of paper out from the bottom of the pile. He stood there for a few seconds, almost in awe of what he had found-it seemed to be a listing of some sort with various names on it, and down towards the bottom was the name Dante Sparda.
Once she detected he was a decent distance down the maze of hallways, Dydrial rose and cinched her robe around her thin waist, tucking a long, thin dagger in the belt. Not that it'd do her much good. She then made her way to her lab on silent, bare feet. She kept her breathing as quiet as could be, then waited patiently for the ventilation system to begin cycling the stale air and filtering it. She couldn't help the tiniest smirk as the system came on with a whir and a slight buzz. Confident that her steps were now as well covered as could be, she made her way slowly, patient as an owl and twice as observant.
Sure enough, the door to her lab was cracked open. Holding her breath, she crept towards it to peer in at the intruder. That lovely platinum hair fell between his shoulders as he stood with his back to her before her desk. Damn it all if she cared now whether he knew of her presence, she had caught him.
Pulling to door open enough to lean on the frame, she released the breath she'd been holding in a small sigh. He could kill her... oh yes, quite easily from the looks of it. She had been thinking of who he was, why he was here. The most obvious answer played in her mind, but she couldn't be sure just yet. Gambling with her very life - something she had become quite use to - she spoke, in that dull, quiet tone of hers, "Sleep enough already? It was well, I hope..." Ever so sarcastic, she was.
For a second, just a second, Angelo's breath caught in his throat. The mental note he had made just a few seconds before was vehemently crossed out. And if he wasn't absolutely certain at this point that he needed her for information, Dydrial could have and would have been dead at that very moment.
He reached up and pushed his blindfold back over his eyes, making it seem like he was covering his face with his hand in annoyance. And he was, in fact, extremely annoyed at that point. Not just with her for so much as living, but with himself for getting caught. Despite this, he made no effort to hide what he had found. Dropping his arm back to his side, he stood still where he was, keeping up with the trend of not turning towards her at all.
"Lovely sleep," he said dryly, "dearest biologist. That is all you do, correct?"
A small smile tugged each corner of her lips. Caught him she had, and she couldn't help the small relief that he hadn't immediately spun around and committed one of his aforementioned acts of devilry. He seemed amply annoyed, though. Taking two steps into the room, she closed the door behind her. Try as he might to keep up his charade, a blind man -devil or no- couldn't read.
She resumed her leaning against the wall, content to talk with him facing toward or away, whatever he preferred. He was still very dangerous, and now she had him backed into a corner. "About as smart as backing a rabid badger into a small hole..." she thought. Aloud she replied blithely, "Mostly. I do have my hobbies. It must be a great talent to be able to read printed documents... considering you're blind."
She kept her arms folded over her chest, watching his back keenly and eyeing the document piles he had shuffled through. Not that he'd made the mess any worse...
So she knew he wasn't blind. It was a moot point at the moment. Being blind wasn't something he worried about so much as his name... And that was something that he could deal with in a much simpler manner. And speaking of simple matters, he wished that the one he had just gotten himself into was easier. Of course he'd been in worse situations, but this was on the verge of monotonous. Oh, again with the hoping, he had hoped he could end this here.
"I'm a man of many talents," he said. He turned around slowly to face her, face blank. He took a step towards her, straightening his posture to his full height, taking on an air of power and near threat. No more games could he bear to play. He continued, his words poison. "Or did you not notice that?"
He didn't expect an answer, nor did he want one. He held the paper up in front of her face, making sure she got a good look at what he had found. "You must have the same talents, miss, in order to have such rare and valuable information." His mouth twisted into a scowl. "Come now, come now," he continued, again without waiting for a response, "and tell Uncle Angelo where you found such a thing."
He could only be one of two people, she now knew. The paper held the name of a hunter, a half devil named Dante. Dante was in Solamente Asilo, last she knew, and this man -who fit the desciption in all but personality - was looking for him. Yet wasn't Vergil dead? Last she'd heard of the two, they'd fought for whatever reasons and Dante was the last one standing... at least in this world. Strange times they were in. Rather than set her even more on edge, the thought piqued her curiosity. Why wasn't he heading one of Hell's armies now? Why the blindfold? And why was he here, of all places? Information, obviously... but to what end?
Ever the scientist, she studied him, her mind picking at this or that and trying to dissect the reasons for him being here. Briefly, she entertained the thought of studying the devil himself. Unfortunately - she realized quickly - he probably wouldn't be a willing test subject. Too bad. He would be the ultimate, perfect specimen. Even now, with him so very near and threatening, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end, she couldn't help thinking of that.
She huffed softly at his words, knowing she was on dangerous ground. It sent the slightest thrill through her. She must have become very, very bored over the years. Her tone was dead and dry as she mused, "I, like you, do possess quite a few talents. How I came upon such information is of little consequence." She made no attempt to straighten to her own full height, since he was obviously not one to be intimidated. "And you, sir, are not old enough to be my dear uncle. Anyway, I assume you are looking for your brother. Am I right, Angelo?" She made a quiet mockery of the name she now knew to be false.
Brother? Brother? The very mention of the word made Angelo's unseen eyes flare up in anger. His scowl deepened, and something that had been tugged on for a very long time within him had finally snapped. He reached out with his free hand and grabbed Dydrial by the edge of her robe-near the neck-and pulled her in close towards him. He leaned down, tilting his head to the side, and brought his face in deathly close to hers. His words were loud and focused, as he made sure she understood exactly what he said.
"I am no man's son."
He held her there for a few good seconds, contemplating what action to take against her next. Would it be too much to kill her right then and there? Or would a simple shove across the room suffice. Instead, he did nothing more than wait for a response.
The notable arch of both brows was her only visible expression when he yanked her so close. Not that he could see them, she assumed. That small thrill ran cold through her blood, and she squinted a little at the flare of power her second sight detected. Would he kill her? He certainly could. Should he? Or did she still retain something he needed? That he would cease to associated himself with his family was something she had a hard time understanding. Perhaps he was still angry with his brother, in which case she'd have all the more reason to keep any further information from him, even at the cost of her own life. Calmness remained embedded in her. He may kill her, but what of the others in the base? Would he take what he needed and leave as silently as he'd come? Or would he slaughter them all in a rage? That was one theory Dydrial was unwilling to test.
Still, she couldn't help the question, her voice curious and no longer mocking him. Cold, dead save the inquiry in her tone.
"Then, what are you? And what has brought you here?"
His grip on her was uncomfortable, yet she endured, allowing for whatever he willed for the moment. Her hand was near to that slender dagger, yet made no move for it. Little good it would do her, she knew. Up close she noted the flawless, ageless face and the inhuman strength in his grip. A perfect specimen indeed.
"I am nothing."
Those were his only words as he released her-slightly more violently than he had intended. He turned from her, head bowed in... regret? No. In truth. His heart sank at the fact that it was, indeed, the way he felt. He was nothing. In the middle of dark and light. Not worthy to hold his father's name, yet not tainted enough to keep the darkness handed to him. The way he saw it, he was a failure. He was nothing. He clenched both fists, crinkling the paper he held as he did so.
Such feelings passed as quickly as they had come. Self-loathing and shame were quickly replaced by the cold, numbing feeling he had come to know and live with for so long. He raised his head, yet made a point to not turn towards her again.
"Where is the son of Sparda now?" he asked. "Tell me and I'll leave this place without harming you, your visitors, or ruining any of your little science projects. He has something that belongs to me. I want it back."
She stumbled as her released her, but kept her footing and stood, straightening herself. Her brows lowered and furrowed slightly as she watched that intense aura diminish, dimming to a ember-like glow. How odd. His own words shocked her. This was a man who was - or at least seemed to be - proud. His own words seem to make him wither momentarily, and she was moved to something close to pity. At least until he spoke again.
So Dante had something of his? She couldn't trust that he wouldn't lie to her, or that his former ill will to his brother had changed. She was in a bit of a quandary. "Dante is a great hunter." Her voice remained in monotone. "He is the best asset we have against the powers of Hell. I've never met him personally, nor do I owe him any allegiance beyond that. But I cannot tell you anything when I am unsure of your intentions... given past circumstances." There, the truth.
At that very moment, a little voice piped up in Angelo's head that said, 'Kill her, kill her, KILL HER.' And he wanted to. Very badly, at that moment, did he want her to taste blood. He had just given her the most sincere, pure-intentioned offer he could think of, and still she was being difficult. However, he scolded himself that he wasn't in Hell anymore, and that there were no easier or alternate methods of getting what he wanted at this point. A bad taste formed in his mouth.
"Understood," he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He slapped the document he had found back onto Dydrial's desk, and started for the door back towards the bedrooms. "Then if you'll excuse me," he continued without slowing or stopping, "I believe you promised me a room for the night." He mentally added that she'd better hope her guests had good heads on their shoulders, as one of them may end up being compensation for such an ordeal in the not so distant future. Maybe. If he was in the mood.
And with that, he was gone.
She exhaled a breath she hadn't been aware of holding as he passed her. Somehow she felt she'd very narrowly escaped certain death, and through no means of her own. Walking slowly over to her desk once he was gone, she picked up the paper and folded it neatly, tucking it in her robe. She fought the annoying feeling that she had wronged him in some way. It nibbled at her thoughts, even as she locked her lab and made her way back to her room. Sitting upon the bed and now far too immersed in thought to sleep, she pondered over a way out of this strange situation, beyond letting the man walk away. Oh... how she wanted to let him do just that.
But still... she felt wrong.