It's not easy having yourself a good time; Greasing up those bets and betters [OTA; mtw]
[ooc: back from the dead ;o;/ This should be set just after stuff returned to normal!]
It had been a strange couple of weeks even by Dante's standards. Months? Weeks. Eh, in all honestly he'd lost count and at this rate who cares anyway? There had been that monster siege, and the search and rescue... Then he'd taken a vacation trek into the dark woods and gotten lost for a bit (kind of expected really), only to at a later date somehow wake up at a bar; shaken awake by some greasy Italian calling him Tony.
Dante had punched that guy straight in the face on pure reflex before he'd even noticed the whole Wood adventure so far hadn't been a drunk dream, he wasn't back in Bobby's Cellar and the annoying Italian wasn't Enzo. Not unless he'd somehow forgotten he used to live in a gangster jazz flick, anyway. It'd been a while since he'd gone by the name Tony that openly but he was pretty sure it wasn't that long.
Whatever this new dimension or illusion was it wasn't that bad, though. Dante had quickly come to the conclusion that he might as well just go with it while trying to figure this new weird ass turn of events out. This had included drinking a lot (anything not cranberry vodka), soaking in a hot tub a lot, and living it up with as many loose girls as possible. Even better, he soon realised he could do all those three things at once.
But all good things must come to an end.
Back at the barracks. It's evening. Dante makes a quick inventory. His cabin is about as messy as he remembers but this mud-hole of a make-shift settlement seems to have grown a bit--or; changed. Knowing this place it's new arrivals filling the spaces of those who've no doubt left since he was last here. As much as he hates to admit it he's afraid to dwell on the latter. Well... C'est la vie, or whatever. The urge to simply hide or go off alone again is strong because the nagging feeling thinking that perhaps some of the nice people he's met here is gone.. kind of hurts. The worst kind of hurt.
The son of Sparda stops his ponderings as he walks past the giving tree and sees what looks like items nestles within it's roots. Weird, but then again... when is this place not? He's just about to wave it off with a shrug and continue his round, when he spots something familiar...
No, it can't be.
In an uncharacteristic act of surprise and slight alarm, the half-demon turns back and dashes forward to fall to his knee by the tree. Leaning forward he glances down at a small object wedged beneath a root; dusty glass reflecting the remaining sky light. He can't believe it, but it... it really is...
Reaching out he carefully retrieves the item and holds it up. The dusty brown wooden frame is familiar to the touch, and so is the photograph behind the cracked old glass. The image of a beautiful blond young woman stares back at him with a serene smile and soft, confident blue eyes.
Dante's own eyes soften considerably and he stands up slowly. As he stares at the picture he's forgotten the entire world. Completely unaware of his surroundings he smiles softly to himself; a sad but fond smile.
"... Hey mum. What are you doing here?"
Yes, the cocky muscle package with a bad attitude and no shirt is having a cute conversation with a picture of his mother.
It had been a strange couple of weeks even by Dante's standards. Months? Weeks. Eh, in all honestly he'd lost count and at this rate who cares anyway? There had been that monster siege, and the search and rescue... Then he'd taken a vacation trek into the dark woods and gotten lost for a bit (kind of expected really), only to at a later date somehow wake up at a bar; shaken awake by some greasy Italian calling him Tony.
Dante had punched that guy straight in the face on pure reflex before he'd even noticed the whole Wood adventure so far hadn't been a drunk dream, he wasn't back in Bobby's Cellar and the annoying Italian wasn't Enzo. Not unless he'd somehow forgotten he used to live in a gangster jazz flick, anyway. It'd been a while since he'd gone by the name Tony that openly but he was pretty sure it wasn't that long.
Whatever this new dimension or illusion was it wasn't that bad, though. Dante had quickly come to the conclusion that he might as well just go with it while trying to figure this new weird ass turn of events out. This had included drinking a lot (anything not cranberry vodka), soaking in a hot tub a lot, and living it up with as many loose girls as possible. Even better, he soon realised he could do all those three things at once.
But all good things must come to an end.
Back at the barracks. It's evening. Dante makes a quick inventory. His cabin is about as messy as he remembers but this mud-hole of a make-shift settlement seems to have grown a bit--or; changed. Knowing this place it's new arrivals filling the spaces of those who've no doubt left since he was last here. As much as he hates to admit it he's afraid to dwell on the latter. Well... C'est la vie, or whatever. The urge to simply hide or go off alone again is strong because the nagging feeling thinking that perhaps some of the nice people he's met here is gone.. kind of hurts. The worst kind of hurt.
The son of Sparda stops his ponderings as he walks past the giving tree and sees what looks like items nestles within it's roots. Weird, but then again... when is this place not? He's just about to wave it off with a shrug and continue his round, when he spots something familiar...
No, it can't be.
In an uncharacteristic act of surprise and slight alarm, the half-demon turns back and dashes forward to fall to his knee by the tree. Leaning forward he glances down at a small object wedged beneath a root; dusty glass reflecting the remaining sky light. He can't believe it, but it... it really is...
Reaching out he carefully retrieves the item and holds it up. The dusty brown wooden frame is familiar to the touch, and so is the photograph behind the cracked old glass. The image of a beautiful blond young woman stares back at him with a serene smile and soft, confident blue eyes.
Dante's own eyes soften considerably and he stands up slowly. As he stares at the picture he's forgotten the entire world. Completely unaware of his surroundings he smiles softly to himself; a sad but fond smile.
"... Hey mum. What are you doing here?"
Yes, the cocky muscle package with a bad attitude and no shirt is having a cute conversation with a picture of his mother.