Fic: Until We're Ash Over Seas
Title: Until We're Ash Over Seas
Notes: Island-verse, Dante/Teresa
Warnings: AAAAANGST
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This should not have happened. She knew better. She knew her bounds, and still she pushed them. Just a little more power, she thought. Just a little bit more, and I can beat him. Now she had crossed the line, and there was no turning back. There was only one option left for her now.
It was her own fault - she knew that. Her former rank as the Organization's number one had made her cocky, and her time on the Island had made her soft. Each of those on their own would have made things difficult for her, but in tandem, they had spelled her undoing. And it was Gilgamesh of all people who had pushed her to her limits - part of her should have seen it coming, and part of her just didn't want to believe that that cocky bastard was capable of something like that. She was fully prepared for someone like Riful, or any of the other Abyssal Ones for that matter, to push her beyond her bounds. But this? This was not how she pictured it happening.
Gilgamesh, for his part, was standing well away from where the warrior had fallen, a look of grim amusement on his face. The power flaring up around her was phenomenal, not only in size but in tangibility - he could feel it in the air, and watch as it kicked dirt and rocks away from her, uprooting plant life as though it were nothing and casting it away.
Anyone possessing even a remote sixth sense had been alerted and come running. If they possessed a sixth sense and half a brain, they went running in the opposite direction. Still, a small crowd had gathered - drawn either by the spectacle or the power being tossed around.
Dante, of course, was one of the last to arrive, Nero following closely on his heels. It was not a welcome sight that met them: There was Teresa on her hands and knees in the dirt, struggling to control her power and keep her human appearance. It was a battle she was swiftly losing - her Yoki continued to flare in bursts, scattering debris, and her skin would grow mottled with Yoma gray in places, veins bulging with the flow of power. And beside her, with her blade poised at Teresa's neck, was Naoto. She'd made a promise to her friend, and as much as it pained her, she would fulfill it.
What she didn't bank on was Dante sprinting out of the crowd and snatching her roughly by the wrist. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Naoto fixed the demon hunter with a serious, albeit saddened, look. "I have to," she replied. Despite the look on her face, her voice was even.
"No you don't! No you fucking don't-"
"Dante!" It was Teresa. From her pained position on the ground, she fixed him with a glare that - despite the obvious strain her efforts were putting on her - was deathly serious. "She... has to... kill... me... or..." The rest of her statement died on her lips as another wave of power shook her, and she had to resist every urge to just let it win. It would be so easy to just let it take her over. Every second they wasted she was another step closer to just giving in.
Dante stared from Teresa to Naoto and back, his mind racing through the possibilities. This couldn't be it, could it? There had to be another way. There was always another way... right? "But-"
The fallen Claymore found her strength again, and fixed Dante with a glare once more. "I swear to you... if you don't let her kill me, I will kill every person on this island."
That seemed to convince him - he just stared at her as though he wasn't sure what to do next. Every emotion possible poured over his face, until finally settling into a look of grim determination. When Naoto finally raised her blade again, he caught her by the wrist once more. "No," he said. His voice was soft, barely audible over the sounds of Teresa's battle with her Yoki. "Let me," a pause then, "...please." Naoto's eyes flicked over the demon hunter's face, and once to her friend. With a nod of consent, she stepped away, sheathing her blade and moving to stand with Nero.
Dante dropped to his knees in front of Teresa, and slid a hand to the side of her face. He felt the monster in her, vying for possession of her body as the skin shifted beneath his hand. Teresa's eyes snapped up to his face. She looked clearly confused, and a little bit like she was going to scold him again, but the look on his face put such thoughts out of her head. He was... smiling at her. It wasn't much of a smile, but it was a smile nonetheless - one that she couldn't help but echo.
As though that were his cue, Dante kissed her.
And a single gunshot brought everything into sudden, resounding silence.
No one dared to move... no one dared to breathe as Dante let Ivory slip from his fingers and he cradled Teresa's unmoving form against him for a very long moment, clinging to her as though she might fly away at any second. Her struggle had ceased, and she seemed to be happily sleeping, if not for the dark stain seeping through the fabric of her shirt.
At length, Dante gently eased Teresa to lie back on the site of her last battle with the so-called King of Heroes and retrieved his fallen weapon. His face was serious again, but there was unbridled hatred burning in his eyes. He turned to face Gilgamesh - who had remained where he was, amused at this spectacle in some sick way. Dante fixed him with that pained, hateful glare.
Today, he decided, the King of Heroes was going to die.
Notes: Island-verse, Dante/Teresa
Warnings: AAAAANGST
---
This should not have happened. She knew better. She knew her bounds, and still she pushed them. Just a little more power, she thought. Just a little bit more, and I can beat him. Now she had crossed the line, and there was no turning back. There was only one option left for her now.
It was her own fault - she knew that. Her former rank as the Organization's number one had made her cocky, and her time on the Island had made her soft. Each of those on their own would have made things difficult for her, but in tandem, they had spelled her undoing. And it was Gilgamesh of all people who had pushed her to her limits - part of her should have seen it coming, and part of her just didn't want to believe that that cocky bastard was capable of something like that. She was fully prepared for someone like Riful, or any of the other Abyssal Ones for that matter, to push her beyond her bounds. But this? This was not how she pictured it happening.
Gilgamesh, for his part, was standing well away from where the warrior had fallen, a look of grim amusement on his face. The power flaring up around her was phenomenal, not only in size but in tangibility - he could feel it in the air, and watch as it kicked dirt and rocks away from her, uprooting plant life as though it were nothing and casting it away.
Anyone possessing even a remote sixth sense had been alerted and come running. If they possessed a sixth sense and half a brain, they went running in the opposite direction. Still, a small crowd had gathered - drawn either by the spectacle or the power being tossed around.
Dante, of course, was one of the last to arrive, Nero following closely on his heels. It was not a welcome sight that met them: There was Teresa on her hands and knees in the dirt, struggling to control her power and keep her human appearance. It was a battle she was swiftly losing - her Yoki continued to flare in bursts, scattering debris, and her skin would grow mottled with Yoma gray in places, veins bulging with the flow of power. And beside her, with her blade poised at Teresa's neck, was Naoto. She'd made a promise to her friend, and as much as it pained her, she would fulfill it.
What she didn't bank on was Dante sprinting out of the crowd and snatching her roughly by the wrist. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Naoto fixed the demon hunter with a serious, albeit saddened, look. "I have to," she replied. Despite the look on her face, her voice was even.
"No you don't! No you fucking don't-"
"Dante!" It was Teresa. From her pained position on the ground, she fixed him with a glare that - despite the obvious strain her efforts were putting on her - was deathly serious. "She... has to... kill... me... or..." The rest of her statement died on her lips as another wave of power shook her, and she had to resist every urge to just let it win. It would be so easy to just let it take her over. Every second they wasted she was another step closer to just giving in.
Dante stared from Teresa to Naoto and back, his mind racing through the possibilities. This couldn't be it, could it? There had to be another way. There was always another way... right? "But-"
The fallen Claymore found her strength again, and fixed Dante with a glare once more. "I swear to you... if you don't let her kill me, I will kill every person on this island."
That seemed to convince him - he just stared at her as though he wasn't sure what to do next. Every emotion possible poured over his face, until finally settling into a look of grim determination. When Naoto finally raised her blade again, he caught her by the wrist once more. "No," he said. His voice was soft, barely audible over the sounds of Teresa's battle with her Yoki. "Let me," a pause then, "...please." Naoto's eyes flicked over the demon hunter's face, and once to her friend. With a nod of consent, she stepped away, sheathing her blade and moving to stand with Nero.
Dante dropped to his knees in front of Teresa, and slid a hand to the side of her face. He felt the monster in her, vying for possession of her body as the skin shifted beneath his hand. Teresa's eyes snapped up to his face. She looked clearly confused, and a little bit like she was going to scold him again, but the look on his face put such thoughts out of her head. He was... smiling at her. It wasn't much of a smile, but it was a smile nonetheless - one that she couldn't help but echo.
As though that were his cue, Dante kissed her.
And a single gunshot brought everything into sudden, resounding silence.
No one dared to move... no one dared to breathe as Dante let Ivory slip from his fingers and he cradled Teresa's unmoving form against him for a very long moment, clinging to her as though she might fly away at any second. Her struggle had ceased, and she seemed to be happily sleeping, if not for the dark stain seeping through the fabric of her shirt.
At length, Dante gently eased Teresa to lie back on the site of her last battle with the so-called King of Heroes and retrieved his fallen weapon. His face was serious again, but there was unbridled hatred burning in his eyes. He turned to face Gilgamesh - who had remained where he was, amused at this spectacle in some sick way. Dante fixed him with that pained, hateful glare.
Today, he decided, the King of Heroes was going to die.