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[Isaac and Dante scene for MMU - Warnings of violence and inexplicit sexual content :O]
What a fucking time to leave. What a goddamn fucking fantastic time to get your ass up, and fucking turn aroundand leave. Fuck. He was caked in blood, both fresh and quickly drying, his head rolled, once again catching gaze of the creature that had abandoned the other white-haired boy and was once again lumbering toward him. Dante chuckled, though it resembled more of a deep rumble than an actual laugh.
So there were things, he supposed, that were going to be a little harder to get rid of. He twitched, grabbed the hilt of Ebony, and fired relentlessly into Pyramid Head's chest, backing up against the wall to level himself against the backlash of the gun. Shit, he had lost quite a bit of blood.
It drew back, raising the rusted knife to impale him once again, and Dante grinned widely, Rebellion meeting the knife once again. The gun, which had once been cocked at the thing's chest, twisted in his palm, and he met Pyramid Head's wrist at point-blank, enough to sever the tendons that held the knife. He heard it groan, and with the few seconds that he had given himself, grabbed the handle of the knife and dragged it along-side Rebellion, wheezing in glee as he rounded the corner.
It was something Isaac had been contemplating since he'd first learnt their secret. The twin sons of a legendary demon, heritage split with that of a mortal. His original target had been the more mature of the two twins, but that had been a hard goal to accomplish. Though thought to be made easier when the powers that were stripped from them were restored, it only complicated things further as Vergil seemed to be getting himself amassed with a load of events that would prove difficult to reach him through.
Trying to catch Dante after he broke free from the demon that Isaac felt ever so intrigued by would have been damn well near impossible, if it hadn't been for his newly retrieved, gargoylesque Innocent Devil he'd obtained and ordered to go line up in front of Dante's path; to head him off and stop him so Isaac could approach from behind. The creature was tall, though thin, and carried on his back a set of wings as large to his body as the ramlike horns were to his head. A glistening pink chest, and glistening pink eyes were the colors that testified Isaac's hold on the creature... not that Dante would much know that.
The creature was crashing down from above, in front of Dante's path as Isaac ordered, while Isaac saunted in from behind, clapping a few times while saying, "You are quite the talented man, Dante."
Dante was dragging his prize behind him; the long, rusted knife that had been severed from the demon's arm. He took it as his memento. He was still covered in blood, his coat ripped where the creature had maimed him, but he seemed awfully cheerful about something (probably the rusty blade in his hands). A fang was peeking over his lower lip, and the once azure eyes were veined with red; his appearance reflected his instincts.
He regarded Isaac cockily, snorting at the Devil that obstructed his path. He quirked his head, rolled back on his heels, but didn't seem at all pertrubed by the other man's sudden apperance. "Yeah?"
So bust out in front of him and start flattering him with compliments? So, Isaac knew how to make an enterance. "Then what's with the hold up? Don't tell me ya stopped me just ta tell me that." Dante swooned.
"Maybe," Isaac said, swaying at the hips when he stopped just out of any initial swing and reach Dante could make with either weapon. Green eyes scaled Dante's body, teaching in build, slouching, style, skin... and those crimson eyes, peering out at him from under that shock of white that Dante called hair. Truly a remarkable display, as most part-bloods of any sort (note: most), very rarely had the ability to show so much of their stronger pieces.
"I'm quite the fan," Isaac explain, as he lifted a hand in the air. "Of you, and of Vergil." Hand lifted, his fingers were snapped and with an obedient nod, the creature no behind Dante began ti dissipate into nothing more than a white mist; it glided past Dante, and around to hover several feet from Isaac's head. It was a call off of the one, to prepare for another. A new... capture, and something Isaac hadn't attempted before. He wasn't strong enough to split his attentions in the given circumstances. "It makes me wish to learn more about you."
At first, Dante looked somewhat intrigued (perhaps because he had been lost in his own mirth), and then he began to look ... bored, and skeptic, and flat; and Isaac was still talking. He mentioned something about him and Vergil, and Dante caught it, but he couldn't say that his focus wasn't steadily declining away from the young Forgemaster to other things that were pulling his mind in various other directions.
He watched the devil disappear with some disinterest. He had a fannow, was that flattering or creepy? Well, considering it was Isaac, he voted creepy. Yeah, okay. Time to go.
"Yeah ... okay, well ... do it on your own watch, I have shit to do," He replied, carelessly, though his body tensed as if he were ready to strike. Though his body seemed to be reverting, he had lost a lot of blood, it would be surprising if he would be able to hold his own against Isaac at the moment until his body was completely finished healing.
Lifting both hands up by his head, Isaac's eyelids lowered as he began to concentrate on something. He was disregarding Dante as a threat, because if he had it his way, he wouldn't be, soon enough. It was hard, reaching out with his own black powers and attempting peel away that which made Dante human, to that which made him a devil. Though, Dante's fronting with his more demonic side made it all the more easy, Isaac assumed. However, it was still a bit difficult... he would need assistance; something that the mist above him would provide. Much like a straightjacket, if one pardoned the comparison.
"But see," he responded, his hands beginning to tingle with energy, "what you have to do... will soon become what I wish."
Hands were jerked outward and swung in to clap against one another, before rolled about and turned to Dante by the palms. The force seemed to cause a gust of powerful wind to come from behind, and in an choing shriek seemed to tear apart the glowing mist, launching it towards Dante, coating the front of his body. "Dark forces that power my art! Heed to my authority--this wanderless soul seeks a master! One to guide him, to train him, to teach him how his kind is meant to serve, not to co-exist--"
At this point, the white mist about Dante began to contort from white to that same sparkling pink that was on the Innocent Devil that the mist once was. As Isaac's fingers reached towards the young man, as if to grab at him, his lips broke into his usual, sly cheshire grin; his head cocked to the side, and he raised a taunting eyebrow. "Force him under my control--under my command. He will be mine--my little demi-ID." Isaac was never one to give a person to react.
There was an irritated rumble that began to roll from the back of Dante's throat, and the great knife that was once carried by Pyramid Head was cocked back over his shoulder. He twisted with enough force to swing it like a baseball bat through the air toward Isaac. He didn't have time for this, he really fucking didn't. He had to find Vergil.
But he felt odd, suddenly very far away as the fog began to settle in, and the pale blue glow to his eyes began to fade before it disappeared completely. The blade stilled, inches from Isaac's throat, suspended in mid-motion as Dante held his stance, his fingers caught between tensing and relaxing, trembling in reply to the forcible actions of Isaac's magic and his own desires.
He would not fucking give into this, he wouldn't ...
Master?! Train?! Co-exist?! This fuck kept running off his goddamn mouth and he couldn't do a thing about it. It was like he was frozen in place as the wind parted, like the body that he had taken advantage of all these years had finally abandon him for the greater endeavors of this red-haired man. He couldn't even laugh at the irony.
And all the while, Isaac simply stood there, looking as smug as could be. It worked--it honestly worked, and Isaac hadn't been expecting it to, to be honest. Well, not without more a fight. The young man was layered in deeply colored, drying blood, so perhaps that was it? Weakened... Perhaps. Though, wouldn't that be disappointing? Isaac vowed to work on the potency of his casting before attempting to grab the other brother. The other was stronger, as far as he was concerned, but keeping a wide berth from the Devil Forgemaster...
...thus, incentive. The redhead reached out and set a hand against the armed limb of Dante's pushing it to the side enough so that he could move in close to Dante and look him directly in the eyes. One shoulder was brought around during a sway to brush past Dante's pectoral; Isaac was a great advocate in the power of human touch, after all. It was a way to comfort, and to traumatize. "I would say not fighting would make this easier on you... but I would be lying," he said with patience, leering closer to Dante's face.
"While your actions shant be your own, your words, your thoughts, and emotions will be. Because this simply would be no fun if you were doing what I have in mind willing."
Dante's fingers twitched around the knife, swinging in a wide arc as Isaac pushed his arm away. With the slightest provocation, the knife slipped from between his fingers and clattered to the ground. His breathing was stalled, his chest moving up and down with each deep, steady breath. His body had been sliced and impaled, and was still healing from the prior battle (which he wished, now, that he had returned to).
Mother fuck.
His body felt heavy, like he was watching from a far distance. He couldn't even bare his fangs to this fag who decided to put a mother fucking spell on him. He ached for his weaponshis guns, his sword, anything that he could lash out with. "The fuck did you do?" He growled lowly. He was going to fucking kill him. He was nobody's, nobody's plaything, especially not this fuckhole's. He wasn't going to stop fighting, and his body remained tensed and rigid as he battled for his own willpower.
"See, there's one problem with you, Dante," Isaac said, keeping close to Dante; close enough to feel the warmth of his skin, even through the fabric of the half-blood's tattered clothes. "You don't see the... superiority complex that you and your brother have. Now, granted, you aren't nearly as bad as Vergil. Oh no. But it's true."
A nod was given to emphasize what he held as fact, before he lifted a finger and let it glide lightly up Dante's chest. His eyes watched his finger, as every light connection seemed to strengthen the binds of power that, though invisible to the eye, Isaac could feel running between him and the other. It was an exciting feeling--so much more powerful than the Innocent Devils he created fresh by hand, although that was an experience all in its own. Something akin to fatherhood, that. This was powerful, but unfamiliar... but he'd change that.
"That's okay, however. I'm going to teach you all about the blessings of a mortal's body."
Superiority complex his ass, Dante didn't need to hear Isaac's psychological analysis, nor did he really care. Fuck Isaac and whatever the fuck he was doing. It was getting old, and it was getting old fast. He could hear his heart beginning to pound in his ears, not from Isaac's intimate touches and proximity, but from the mere idea that he was being controlled (though it did serve as a reminder.)
There were always things he felt dragging him down: revenge, destinythings that he brought upon himself because it was his own damn choice. If he wanted to take revenge, then he was going to goddamn take revenge; if he wanted to chase his own Fate, defy it, live itthen that was his descision.
His upper lip curled after much focus, and his face twitched. "Fuck off," He smirked; his entire body shivered beneath Isaac's power, as he once again tried to force his own demonic powers against the binds. It wasn't working. Fuck.
Well ... He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.
The retaliating comment only made Isaac grin wider. "Oh..." He bounced a little at that, even. How exciting. "You're going to make this so much fun..." His hand, that had been so busy lightly tracing Dante's chest slowly crossed up and over his neck. The nail of his index finger lightly grazed down Dante's jaw bone just a second before he reached up and roughly grabbed the mop of white locks atop Dante's head, forcing his head to a side. The motion was synonymous with Isaac's moving in and running his tongue up Dante's bared cheek, licking at flesh and crusted blood without care.
Fingers still entwined in Dante's hair, forcing his head to the side, Isaac's lips came up right next to Dante's ear, at which point he whispered, voice bouncing lightly though it was snaked through clenched teeth, "Tell me... what do you know about holy water?"
Nobodynobody fucking touched him like this. Dante let out a low grunt as he was pulled backward, his body arching back beautifully with the jerk of Isaac's hand in his mane. The fuck was licking him. Fucking. Licking. Him. His immediate response was to punch him in the gut and take his head off, but he was forced into submission.
No matter how much he tried, how many times he forced the movements into his brain, how many times he told himself that he was going to overcome this, he remained dormant. His body didn't move, and Isaac drew closer. He chuckled ironically to himself, because there wasn't anything to do but laugh.
"God, you're a sick fuck ..." How couldn't he know? Trish announced it to the entire student body ... so he fucking figured it out. Goodie.
A deep growl of a laugh, throaty and hot, escaped Isaac, his mouth still close to Dante's ear. "So smart, with so much potential..." he breathed out, swaying back and forth against the other's body. It was just before he tightened his grip moreso, twisting his hand and making Dante lurch moreso.
"Unrestrained devils," he said rapidly, though still in something just a smidge louder than a whisper, "tend to believe they hold a certain superiority over humans. The hopelessness they instill on the ignorant masses is what allows them to maintain status as a superior species--one that is a threat. The common man can't even begin to fathom what sort of power he has over your sort. Over any creature that is of the darker side of our universe. We're physically programmed from birth to handle all that which can be used against you, if the know-how is there.
"True, I'm a bit of an anomally--one of only two anywhere--with the ability to use dark arts to enslave dark creatures, but I am no more than the common fool that strides about the street, other than the fact that I know--I know what power I have over your sort. Even a half-blood son of one of the most powerful dark creatures to ever exist--son of Sparda." Isaac ripped his hand free from Dante's hair then, reeling both arms back and launching them forward, striking his palmheels roughly into Dante's chest. "On your knees."
Dante's body and mind screamed in unison against the wards, and he refused to stop fighting whatever the fuck it was that Isaac was doing to him. God ... damn, what did he ever do to him, or was he motherfucking getting off to this shit? He had better things to do then to sit around here and be someone's plaything.
His body arched slowly downward, and it suddenly felt like there was a heavy weight against his shoulders. His knees buckled, and then bent slowly inward. He braced himself against the command, his arms hanging limply at his sides, as if they were being pulled to the ground with an absurd amount of gravity. "That's a real pretty speech," He licked his lips, still suspended halfway between his feet and his knees, his bright eyes wavered, and he swooned, his body lowering further against his will. He grit his teeth, still grinning. "How long did it take you to come up with shit like that? I'd say a few hours, right? Hope you didn't stay up all night." He almost winced as he was forced down upon his knees.
He never cared. Humans, demons, whatever. If the humans had killed his mom, then he'd be having their heads on a platter. He figured that he'd just kill every demon he came in contact with, and eventually he'd hit the jackpot.
Heels clacking, Isaac started a lazy circle around his new toy, fidgeting with a pouch he'd kept strapped behind him. It contained several toys that he used specifically against dark creatures if he was bored. Or if one came across his path and posed a threat. He had never needed to carry it at the university before, with everyone as human as he, and not necessarily used to it, which was a great advantage then as well. But now that this one's precious twin brother decided to 'level the playing field', Isaac was glad he'd thought to bring it from home at all.
Blessed items of various sorts were placed in the pouch, along with a decently sized bottle of holy water. All would be easily replaced after he tainted them with the halfling's blood, so Isaac didn't intend to do anything but draw it out, to make it as painful as he possibly could.
"Oh yes," Isaac said, amused. "I sat up all night, attempting to think of an ingenious but incorrect speech just for this moment." Nevermind this part of the plan had been devised that day, he added in his head. As he came back to Dante's front, he pulled the bottle of holy water and dangled it in front of Dante's face; teasing him with it. "Have you ever slowly melted the neck off of a living creature until there was nothing left holding its head on but its spine, Dante?"
Getting the shit beaten out of you, well, Dante was used to that. He'd had the crap kicked out of him a few times, not that he'd ever conceed to it, or even admit that it happened; but he knew what it felt like. One of the wonders of living in the human world was that most humans did not know how to deal with demonic creatures, so they became onimpotent in their eyes. Demons, though, other creatures such as he knew how to deal with eachother, they knew how to torture their own, even will the ability to heal at an amazing rate.
The idea seemed so foreign to him. He was young, and he had lived in this world all his life; like every young kid of his age, he thought of himself to be invincible. He was recklessly suicidal, never regretted it, because, well, he was still alive, wasn't he? He was obviously doing something right. He continued to struggle to gain the control of his body, he wasn't going to go down like this. Shit ... shit shit shit shit.
Goddamn it. "Nah, I'm not that much of a sick bastard," He cracked, clicking his fangs in reply.
"Too bad," Isaac replied with a click of his tongue. Slowly, his hands toyed with the bottle he held, fingers easing the cork off slowly, purposely prolonging what was about to come. As he toyed, he continued on, "The Creator built humans as a perfect contradiction to those of the demonic kind, Dante."
He squatted down in front of Dante then, gently popping the cork out and setting the bottle on the ground. The smile on his face refused to waver; the redhead's heart was pounding at the exhilerating feel that the mystical binds around Dante gave him, coursing through his body like the very blood in his veins. With a slow lick of his lips, the taste of dried blood and dirt from early still lightly tainting them, Isaac stuck a finger into the bottle, finger breaking the surface of the blessed water within, and brought it back out to display it to the halfling. The water ran across his flesh without much event; he continued on, "Sin as we might... be as brutal as your own kind as we may be, we still can touch objects that are holy and blessed without trouble at all.
"But you... As innocent, as wide-eyed, as you may be. As much as you may follow that small light within your soul to do what's 'right' and 'just', that same soul makes you damned... and the damned have far more weaknesses than us silly mortals ever will." To finish up his lecture, Isaac took the hand with the finger still coated lightly with the water, and set it on Dante's cheek. It would no doubt be mildly irritating in such a small amount, but he wanted Dante to realize the advantage he had at that point--to understand what he could, and would, do to him.
Fuck him. Seriously, fuck him. Dante didn't care about being damned, or how he followed the little light inside of him, or even how he had been shrouded in darkness. He didn't want to be known as the "Son of Sparda," or any shit like that. He didn't want to follow the legacy of the Father everyone adored (or detested); because abandoning your children, your lover, and your life to save humanity was one of the shittiest things someone could pull. A martyr who left his children to die, leaving them with damned souls, at the mercy of whatever creature could manipulate them.
They were still green, but how they believed they owned the world. He snorted against Isaac's hand as he touched his cheek. Sorry Isaac, that was kind of annoying, but whatever, he didn't seem all that pretrubed by his advances. He wasn't going to give this shit the satisfaction of torturing himor maybe he believed that he'd still make it out alive.
Part of Isaac wanted to throw him down on his back, order him to hold his mouth open, and dump the entire bottle into his mouth. And, had this been any other creature, he probably would have. But oh, no, this was his toy. His pretty toy, no less. And a means to an end. This would conjure the other up, and make him come after Isaac. And for that, Isaac wanted to make Vergil as angry as he possibly could make him. So blind with fury that he would allow his will to slip, to allow Isaac the opportunity to grab him. Then again... perhaps he would be as easy to ensare as this one?
One hand grasped the bottle, and the other placed itself atop Dante's head as a brace for when Isaac stood back up straight, and walked around behind him. His eyes glanced around, taking in the fact that they were in quite the convenient location. Nothing, and no one, was in sight... and it was fairly secluded, between buildings, trees, and nearby vehicles. It was a narrow area, and dark to boot. Not that it much mattered. Isaac's spear was nearby if he needed it; he had his own little super soldier as well.
This time, Isaac took the moment to move Dante's hair from the back of his neck, with a gentle sweep that could have been quite deceiving in any other, less hostile situation. One hand went to continuing to hold the hair gently from Dante's neck, while the other turned the bottle over on a side, letting enough fall from the bottle onto Dante's flesh, so that it would roll down under his shirt, and around his neck and collar bones. "Feel free to say as you want," Isaac ployed with a light bounce in his words. He was so enjoying this, and he'd barely begun.
Funny, Isaac's movement to put the bottle atop his head when Dante had no control over his own body, except for a few special facial expressions. He twitched, but he didn't seem to change his manner. Pour it down his throat until all that was holding his head up was his spine, yeah? Damn, Vergil would be kinda disappointed if he died this easily, wouldn't he? Couldn't have that.
Dante still had a lot of shit to do. He had come here to avenge his mom, as he had gotten the announcement from the academyand all these different people? Someone had to know something. Besides, she was depending on him. He hadn't thought ... that he'd meet Vergil here, or that his elder brother had been chasing behind him for the last six years. It was kind of funny, damn, it was actually pretty fucking hilarious. His lips curled into a humorless grin. The bottle swept down against the chain of the amulet around his neck, giving a soft "clink" as it touched.
"Say what I want, huh? Want me to beg for my life?" It didn't matter, anyway. "Sorry, man, I'm not into that shit. You picked the wrong guy." He wasn't the type. He wasn't going to beg for his life. It would be quite the time to go, though!
Isaac chuckled, his gentle grasp on Dante's hair tightening again, this time forcing him to arch back and look up at him. The bottle still was grasped in his other hand, and still had so much more water to use on him. "How tenacious are you? It's absolutely precious..." It was said slyly, as he arched down, leering closer to Dante's face. "But, unfortunately... 'tis not something I want to hear."
Closer yet, and Isaac was able to lap his tongue over Dante's lips; a gentle brushing, followed by a pursing of his lips as though he was testing the taste. In Isaac's mind, gender didn't play a role when it came to his own sexual behaviors. It was a given that this was more about control than anything else, but that was irregardless as to Isaac's opinion of "female" and "male". There was no known trauma that caused Isaac to think this way--nothing Isaac could say he remembered, anyway, but his own past prior to being taken in by his Lord was so cluttered with horror that he simply glazed beyond it--he just simply didn't care. But he understood that others did, which made his advances on the young man before him all the more... amusing.
"Begging is unbecoming for someone of your stature," he said in a low whisper, eyeing the upside-down face under him, fingers still tightly grasping his hair. "Say what you want." The bottle was tipped again, this time to pour the water onto the collar of Dante's shirt, to let the holy water cover his frontside. "Just remember..." His eyes moved to watch as the water rolled out of the mouth of the bottle and splashed downward. "...nothing you say will impact this situation in any way."
Dante snorted as Isaac arched him back, his breath catching in the back of his throat at the force of the movement. His body shifted faintly beneath his own power, but the binds were too strong, and he was left again to struggle for control. He nipped at Isaac as he licked his lips, his fangs brushing up against his tongue. He wasn't going to let him get away with shit like that, no.
Dante hissed between his teeth as the first drops of the water touched his skin, causing it to blister and boil up in response, eating away at the flesh until it disappated. It was like acid. Worse, because Isaac could play and fondle him all he wanted, and here, he was left at this man's mercy.
"... Try this: fuck you." He smirked, baring his fangs at the young Forgemaster. Try him, Isaac, he was ready to take anything you wanted to pull. He was not going to give him any satisfaction out of this torture.
The nip at his tongue only made Isaac cackle softly, writhing Dante back a bit and redoing his grip on the halfling's hair. And as he did so, Isaac dropped to his knees behind him and set the bottle down to a side. "Fuck me? Careful, sweetheart." His free hand moved up, tickling and tapping at the flesh under Dante's chin. "It's been a while for me, and I do have command over all your precious, physical movements."
Fingers grazed aound Dante's blistering, raw throat, making sure to pause and jab at one particularly nasty-looking scathe as a means to add insult to injury; though, as if apologetically, Isaac followed it with another lean in and gentle swipe of his tongue. As though he didn't realize that would hurt just as much; he knew it would, which was why he did it a second time and said, "It's been a while since I've tasted blood as well. Yours is quite sweet."
Down his back, Isaac's fingers traced, until they found themselves at his flank, poking at a couple of his ribs. "Have you ever had a lung punctured before, precious?"
The worst thing about healing so fast, was that the pain was fresh each time something would maim you. So while the wounds were steadily healing, each fresh touch of the water against his skin would cause the same blistering to occur, and even as Isaac leaned down to lick the long gash on his collar, it was beginning to heal. His head swooned to the side, and he snorted again, more as a challenge to Isaac's position then one of pain.
Not like shit like this didn't hurt like fuck. "What, you want me to fuck you?" Heh heh, fucking retard. His face contorted as Isaac pressed at his ribs. Jesus fucking Christ, if he was going to hurt him, he could fucking do it already. "Huh. Lung punctured? Probably." Somewhere along the line. Well, actually, he could think of a few specific examples, but he wasn't going to bother.
I'll answer this once I've had sleep!
What a fucking time to leave. What a goddamn fucking fantastic time to get your ass up, and fucking turn aroundand leave. Fuck. He was caked in blood, both fresh and quickly drying, his head rolled, once again catching gaze of the creature that had abandoned the other white-haired boy and was once again lumbering toward him. Dante chuckled, though it resembled more of a deep rumble than an actual laugh.
So there were things, he supposed, that were going to be a little harder to get rid of. He twitched, grabbed the hilt of Ebony, and fired relentlessly into Pyramid Head's chest, backing up against the wall to level himself against the backlash of the gun. Shit, he had lost quite a bit of blood.
It drew back, raising the rusted knife to impale him once again, and Dante grinned widely, Rebellion meeting the knife once again. The gun, which had once been cocked at the thing's chest, twisted in his palm, and he met Pyramid Head's wrist at point-blank, enough to sever the tendons that held the knife. He heard it groan, and with the few seconds that he had given himself, grabbed the handle of the knife and dragged it along-side Rebellion, wheezing in glee as he rounded the corner.
It was something Isaac had been contemplating since he'd first learnt their secret. The twin sons of a legendary demon, heritage split with that of a mortal. His original target had been the more mature of the two twins, but that had been a hard goal to accomplish. Though thought to be made easier when the powers that were stripped from them were restored, it only complicated things further as Vergil seemed to be getting himself amassed with a load of events that would prove difficult to reach him through.
Trying to catch Dante after he broke free from the demon that Isaac felt ever so intrigued by would have been damn well near impossible, if it hadn't been for his newly retrieved, gargoylesque Innocent Devil he'd obtained and ordered to go line up in front of Dante's path; to head him off and stop him so Isaac could approach from behind. The creature was tall, though thin, and carried on his back a set of wings as large to his body as the ramlike horns were to his head. A glistening pink chest, and glistening pink eyes were the colors that testified Isaac's hold on the creature... not that Dante would much know that.
The creature was crashing down from above, in front of Dante's path as Isaac ordered, while Isaac saunted in from behind, clapping a few times while saying, "You are quite the talented man, Dante."
Dante was dragging his prize behind him; the long, rusted knife that had been severed from the demon's arm. He took it as his memento. He was still covered in blood, his coat ripped where the creature had maimed him, but he seemed awfully cheerful about something (probably the rusty blade in his hands). A fang was peeking over his lower lip, and the once azure eyes were veined with red; his appearance reflected his instincts.
He regarded Isaac cockily, snorting at the Devil that obstructed his path. He quirked his head, rolled back on his heels, but didn't seem at all pertrubed by the other man's sudden apperance. "Yeah?"
So bust out in front of him and start flattering him with compliments? So, Isaac knew how to make an enterance. "Then what's with the hold up? Don't tell me ya stopped me just ta tell me that." Dante swooned.
"Maybe," Isaac said, swaying at the hips when he stopped just out of any initial swing and reach Dante could make with either weapon. Green eyes scaled Dante's body, teaching in build, slouching, style, skin... and those crimson eyes, peering out at him from under that shock of white that Dante called hair. Truly a remarkable display, as most part-bloods of any sort (note: most), very rarely had the ability to show so much of their stronger pieces.
"I'm quite the fan," Isaac explain, as he lifted a hand in the air. "Of you, and of Vergil." Hand lifted, his fingers were snapped and with an obedient nod, the creature no behind Dante began ti dissipate into nothing more than a white mist; it glided past Dante, and around to hover several feet from Isaac's head. It was a call off of the one, to prepare for another. A new... capture, and something Isaac hadn't attempted before. He wasn't strong enough to split his attentions in the given circumstances. "It makes me wish to learn more about you."
At first, Dante looked somewhat intrigued (perhaps because he had been lost in his own mirth), and then he began to look ... bored, and skeptic, and flat; and Isaac was still talking. He mentioned something about him and Vergil, and Dante caught it, but he couldn't say that his focus wasn't steadily declining away from the young Forgemaster to other things that were pulling his mind in various other directions.
He watched the devil disappear with some disinterest. He had a fannow, was that flattering or creepy? Well, considering it was Isaac, he voted creepy. Yeah, okay. Time to go.
"Yeah ... okay, well ... do it on your own watch, I have shit to do," He replied, carelessly, though his body tensed as if he were ready to strike. Though his body seemed to be reverting, he had lost a lot of blood, it would be surprising if he would be able to hold his own against Isaac at the moment until his body was completely finished healing.
Lifting both hands up by his head, Isaac's eyelids lowered as he began to concentrate on something. He was disregarding Dante as a threat, because if he had it his way, he wouldn't be, soon enough. It was hard, reaching out with his own black powers and attempting peel away that which made Dante human, to that which made him a devil. Though, Dante's fronting with his more demonic side made it all the more easy, Isaac assumed. However, it was still a bit difficult... he would need assistance; something that the mist above him would provide. Much like a straightjacket, if one pardoned the comparison.
"But see," he responded, his hands beginning to tingle with energy, "what you have to do... will soon become what I wish."
Hands were jerked outward and swung in to clap against one another, before rolled about and turned to Dante by the palms. The force seemed to cause a gust of powerful wind to come from behind, and in an choing shriek seemed to tear apart the glowing mist, launching it towards Dante, coating the front of his body. "Dark forces that power my art! Heed to my authority--this wanderless soul seeks a master! One to guide him, to train him, to teach him how his kind is meant to serve, not to co-exist--"
At this point, the white mist about Dante began to contort from white to that same sparkling pink that was on the Innocent Devil that the mist once was. As Isaac's fingers reached towards the young man, as if to grab at him, his lips broke into his usual, sly cheshire grin; his head cocked to the side, and he raised a taunting eyebrow. "Force him under my control--under my command. He will be mine--my little demi-ID." Isaac was never one to give a person to react.
There was an irritated rumble that began to roll from the back of Dante's throat, and the great knife that was once carried by Pyramid Head was cocked back over his shoulder. He twisted with enough force to swing it like a baseball bat through the air toward Isaac. He didn't have time for this, he really fucking didn't. He had to find Vergil.
But he felt odd, suddenly very far away as the fog began to settle in, and the pale blue glow to his eyes began to fade before it disappeared completely. The blade stilled, inches from Isaac's throat, suspended in mid-motion as Dante held his stance, his fingers caught between tensing and relaxing, trembling in reply to the forcible actions of Isaac's magic and his own desires.
He would not fucking give into this, he wouldn't ...
Master?! Train?! Co-exist?! This fuck kept running off his goddamn mouth and he couldn't do a thing about it. It was like he was frozen in place as the wind parted, like the body that he had taken advantage of all these years had finally abandon him for the greater endeavors of this red-haired man. He couldn't even laugh at the irony.
And all the while, Isaac simply stood there, looking as smug as could be. It worked--it honestly worked, and Isaac hadn't been expecting it to, to be honest. Well, not without more a fight. The young man was layered in deeply colored, drying blood, so perhaps that was it? Weakened... Perhaps. Though, wouldn't that be disappointing? Isaac vowed to work on the potency of his casting before attempting to grab the other brother. The other was stronger, as far as he was concerned, but keeping a wide berth from the Devil Forgemaster...
...thus, incentive. The redhead reached out and set a hand against the armed limb of Dante's pushing it to the side enough so that he could move in close to Dante and look him directly in the eyes. One shoulder was brought around during a sway to brush past Dante's pectoral; Isaac was a great advocate in the power of human touch, after all. It was a way to comfort, and to traumatize. "I would say not fighting would make this easier on you... but I would be lying," he said with patience, leering closer to Dante's face.
"While your actions shant be your own, your words, your thoughts, and emotions will be. Because this simply would be no fun if you were doing what I have in mind willing."
Dante's fingers twitched around the knife, swinging in a wide arc as Isaac pushed his arm away. With the slightest provocation, the knife slipped from between his fingers and clattered to the ground. His breathing was stalled, his chest moving up and down with each deep, steady breath. His body had been sliced and impaled, and was still healing from the prior battle (which he wished, now, that he had returned to).
Mother fuck.
His body felt heavy, like he was watching from a far distance. He couldn't even bare his fangs to this fag who decided to put a mother fucking spell on him. He ached for his weaponshis guns, his sword, anything that he could lash out with. "The fuck did you do?" He growled lowly. He was going to fucking kill him. He was nobody's, nobody's plaything, especially not this fuckhole's. He wasn't going to stop fighting, and his body remained tensed and rigid as he battled for his own willpower.
"See, there's one problem with you, Dante," Isaac said, keeping close to Dante; close enough to feel the warmth of his skin, even through the fabric of the half-blood's tattered clothes. "You don't see the... superiority complex that you and your brother have. Now, granted, you aren't nearly as bad as Vergil. Oh no. But it's true."
A nod was given to emphasize what he held as fact, before he lifted a finger and let it glide lightly up Dante's chest. His eyes watched his finger, as every light connection seemed to strengthen the binds of power that, though invisible to the eye, Isaac could feel running between him and the other. It was an exciting feeling--so much more powerful than the Innocent Devils he created fresh by hand, although that was an experience all in its own. Something akin to fatherhood, that. This was powerful, but unfamiliar... but he'd change that.
"That's okay, however. I'm going to teach you all about the blessings of a mortal's body."
Superiority complex his ass, Dante didn't need to hear Isaac's psychological analysis, nor did he really care. Fuck Isaac and whatever the fuck he was doing. It was getting old, and it was getting old fast. He could hear his heart beginning to pound in his ears, not from Isaac's intimate touches and proximity, but from the mere idea that he was being controlled (though it did serve as a reminder.)
There were always things he felt dragging him down: revenge, destinythings that he brought upon himself because it was his own damn choice. If he wanted to take revenge, then he was going to goddamn take revenge; if he wanted to chase his own Fate, defy it, live itthen that was his descision.
His upper lip curled after much focus, and his face twitched. "Fuck off," He smirked; his entire body shivered beneath Isaac's power, as he once again tried to force his own demonic powers against the binds. It wasn't working. Fuck.
Well ... He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.
The retaliating comment only made Isaac grin wider. "Oh..." He bounced a little at that, even. How exciting. "You're going to make this so much fun..." His hand, that had been so busy lightly tracing Dante's chest slowly crossed up and over his neck. The nail of his index finger lightly grazed down Dante's jaw bone just a second before he reached up and roughly grabbed the mop of white locks atop Dante's head, forcing his head to a side. The motion was synonymous with Isaac's moving in and running his tongue up Dante's bared cheek, licking at flesh and crusted blood without care.
Fingers still entwined in Dante's hair, forcing his head to the side, Isaac's lips came up right next to Dante's ear, at which point he whispered, voice bouncing lightly though it was snaked through clenched teeth, "Tell me... what do you know about holy water?"
Nobodynobody fucking touched him like this. Dante let out a low grunt as he was pulled backward, his body arching back beautifully with the jerk of Isaac's hand in his mane. The fuck was licking him. Fucking. Licking. Him. His immediate response was to punch him in the gut and take his head off, but he was forced into submission.
No matter how much he tried, how many times he forced the movements into his brain, how many times he told himself that he was going to overcome this, he remained dormant. His body didn't move, and Isaac drew closer. He chuckled ironically to himself, because there wasn't anything to do but laugh.
"God, you're a sick fuck ..." How couldn't he know? Trish announced it to the entire student body ... so he fucking figured it out. Goodie.
A deep growl of a laugh, throaty and hot, escaped Isaac, his mouth still close to Dante's ear. "So smart, with so much potential..." he breathed out, swaying back and forth against the other's body. It was just before he tightened his grip moreso, twisting his hand and making Dante lurch moreso.
"Unrestrained devils," he said rapidly, though still in something just a smidge louder than a whisper, "tend to believe they hold a certain superiority over humans. The hopelessness they instill on the ignorant masses is what allows them to maintain status as a superior species--one that is a threat. The common man can't even begin to fathom what sort of power he has over your sort. Over any creature that is of the darker side of our universe. We're physically programmed from birth to handle all that which can be used against you, if the know-how is there.
"True, I'm a bit of an anomally--one of only two anywhere--with the ability to use dark arts to enslave dark creatures, but I am no more than the common fool that strides about the street, other than the fact that I know--I know what power I have over your sort. Even a half-blood son of one of the most powerful dark creatures to ever exist--son of Sparda." Isaac ripped his hand free from Dante's hair then, reeling both arms back and launching them forward, striking his palmheels roughly into Dante's chest. "On your knees."
Dante's body and mind screamed in unison against the wards, and he refused to stop fighting whatever the fuck it was that Isaac was doing to him. God ... damn, what did he ever do to him, or was he motherfucking getting off to this shit? He had better things to do then to sit around here and be someone's plaything.
His body arched slowly downward, and it suddenly felt like there was a heavy weight against his shoulders. His knees buckled, and then bent slowly inward. He braced himself against the command, his arms hanging limply at his sides, as if they were being pulled to the ground with an absurd amount of gravity. "That's a real pretty speech," He licked his lips, still suspended halfway between his feet and his knees, his bright eyes wavered, and he swooned, his body lowering further against his will. He grit his teeth, still grinning. "How long did it take you to come up with shit like that? I'd say a few hours, right? Hope you didn't stay up all night." He almost winced as he was forced down upon his knees.
He never cared. Humans, demons, whatever. If the humans had killed his mom, then he'd be having their heads on a platter. He figured that he'd just kill every demon he came in contact with, and eventually he'd hit the jackpot.
Heels clacking, Isaac started a lazy circle around his new toy, fidgeting with a pouch he'd kept strapped behind him. It contained several toys that he used specifically against dark creatures if he was bored. Or if one came across his path and posed a threat. He had never needed to carry it at the university before, with everyone as human as he, and not necessarily used to it, which was a great advantage then as well. But now that this one's precious twin brother decided to 'level the playing field', Isaac was glad he'd thought to bring it from home at all.
Blessed items of various sorts were placed in the pouch, along with a decently sized bottle of holy water. All would be easily replaced after he tainted them with the halfling's blood, so Isaac didn't intend to do anything but draw it out, to make it as painful as he possibly could.
"Oh yes," Isaac said, amused. "I sat up all night, attempting to think of an ingenious but incorrect speech just for this moment." Nevermind this part of the plan had been devised that day, he added in his head. As he came back to Dante's front, he pulled the bottle of holy water and dangled it in front of Dante's face; teasing him with it. "Have you ever slowly melted the neck off of a living creature until there was nothing left holding its head on but its spine, Dante?"
Getting the shit beaten out of you, well, Dante was used to that. He'd had the crap kicked out of him a few times, not that he'd ever conceed to it, or even admit that it happened; but he knew what it felt like. One of the wonders of living in the human world was that most humans did not know how to deal with demonic creatures, so they became onimpotent in their eyes. Demons, though, other creatures such as he knew how to deal with eachother, they knew how to torture their own, even will the ability to heal at an amazing rate.
The idea seemed so foreign to him. He was young, and he had lived in this world all his life; like every young kid of his age, he thought of himself to be invincible. He was recklessly suicidal, never regretted it, because, well, he was still alive, wasn't he? He was obviously doing something right. He continued to struggle to gain the control of his body, he wasn't going to go down like this. Shit ... shit shit shit shit.
Goddamn it. "Nah, I'm not that much of a sick bastard," He cracked, clicking his fangs in reply.
"Too bad," Isaac replied with a click of his tongue. Slowly, his hands toyed with the bottle he held, fingers easing the cork off slowly, purposely prolonging what was about to come. As he toyed, he continued on, "The Creator built humans as a perfect contradiction to those of the demonic kind, Dante."
He squatted down in front of Dante then, gently popping the cork out and setting the bottle on the ground. The smile on his face refused to waver; the redhead's heart was pounding at the exhilerating feel that the mystical binds around Dante gave him, coursing through his body like the very blood in his veins. With a slow lick of his lips, the taste of dried blood and dirt from early still lightly tainting them, Isaac stuck a finger into the bottle, finger breaking the surface of the blessed water within, and brought it back out to display it to the halfling. The water ran across his flesh without much event; he continued on, "Sin as we might... be as brutal as your own kind as we may be, we still can touch objects that are holy and blessed without trouble at all.
"But you... As innocent, as wide-eyed, as you may be. As much as you may follow that small light within your soul to do what's 'right' and 'just', that same soul makes you damned... and the damned have far more weaknesses than us silly mortals ever will." To finish up his lecture, Isaac took the hand with the finger still coated lightly with the water, and set it on Dante's cheek. It would no doubt be mildly irritating in such a small amount, but he wanted Dante to realize the advantage he had at that point--to understand what he could, and would, do to him.
Fuck him. Seriously, fuck him. Dante didn't care about being damned, or how he followed the little light inside of him, or even how he had been shrouded in darkness. He didn't want to be known as the "Son of Sparda," or any shit like that. He didn't want to follow the legacy of the Father everyone adored (or detested); because abandoning your children, your lover, and your life to save humanity was one of the shittiest things someone could pull. A martyr who left his children to die, leaving them with damned souls, at the mercy of whatever creature could manipulate them.
They were still green, but how they believed they owned the world. He snorted against Isaac's hand as he touched his cheek. Sorry Isaac, that was kind of annoying, but whatever, he didn't seem all that pretrubed by his advances. He wasn't going to give this shit the satisfaction of torturing himor maybe he believed that he'd still make it out alive.
Part of Isaac wanted to throw him down on his back, order him to hold his mouth open, and dump the entire bottle into his mouth. And, had this been any other creature, he probably would have. But oh, no, this was his toy. His pretty toy, no less. And a means to an end. This would conjure the other up, and make him come after Isaac. And for that, Isaac wanted to make Vergil as angry as he possibly could make him. So blind with fury that he would allow his will to slip, to allow Isaac the opportunity to grab him. Then again... perhaps he would be as easy to ensare as this one?
One hand grasped the bottle, and the other placed itself atop Dante's head as a brace for when Isaac stood back up straight, and walked around behind him. His eyes glanced around, taking in the fact that they were in quite the convenient location. Nothing, and no one, was in sight... and it was fairly secluded, between buildings, trees, and nearby vehicles. It was a narrow area, and dark to boot. Not that it much mattered. Isaac's spear was nearby if he needed it; he had his own little super soldier as well.
This time, Isaac took the moment to move Dante's hair from the back of his neck, with a gentle sweep that could have been quite deceiving in any other, less hostile situation. One hand went to continuing to hold the hair gently from Dante's neck, while the other turned the bottle over on a side, letting enough fall from the bottle onto Dante's flesh, so that it would roll down under his shirt, and around his neck and collar bones. "Feel free to say as you want," Isaac ployed with a light bounce in his words. He was so enjoying this, and he'd barely begun.
Funny, Isaac's movement to put the bottle atop his head when Dante had no control over his own body, except for a few special facial expressions. He twitched, but he didn't seem to change his manner. Pour it down his throat until all that was holding his head up was his spine, yeah? Damn, Vergil would be kinda disappointed if he died this easily, wouldn't he? Couldn't have that.
Dante still had a lot of shit to do. He had come here to avenge his mom, as he had gotten the announcement from the academyand all these different people? Someone had to know something. Besides, she was depending on him. He hadn't thought ... that he'd meet Vergil here, or that his elder brother had been chasing behind him for the last six years. It was kind of funny, damn, it was actually pretty fucking hilarious. His lips curled into a humorless grin. The bottle swept down against the chain of the amulet around his neck, giving a soft "clink" as it touched.
"Say what I want, huh? Want me to beg for my life?" It didn't matter, anyway. "Sorry, man, I'm not into that shit. You picked the wrong guy." He wasn't the type. He wasn't going to beg for his life. It would be quite the time to go, though!
Isaac chuckled, his gentle grasp on Dante's hair tightening again, this time forcing him to arch back and look up at him. The bottle still was grasped in his other hand, and still had so much more water to use on him. "How tenacious are you? It's absolutely precious..." It was said slyly, as he arched down, leering closer to Dante's face. "But, unfortunately... 'tis not something I want to hear."
Closer yet, and Isaac was able to lap his tongue over Dante's lips; a gentle brushing, followed by a pursing of his lips as though he was testing the taste. In Isaac's mind, gender didn't play a role when it came to his own sexual behaviors. It was a given that this was more about control than anything else, but that was irregardless as to Isaac's opinion of "female" and "male". There was no known trauma that caused Isaac to think this way--nothing Isaac could say he remembered, anyway, but his own past prior to being taken in by his Lord was so cluttered with horror that he simply glazed beyond it--he just simply didn't care. But he understood that others did, which made his advances on the young man before him all the more... amusing.
"Begging is unbecoming for someone of your stature," he said in a low whisper, eyeing the upside-down face under him, fingers still tightly grasping his hair. "Say what you want." The bottle was tipped again, this time to pour the water onto the collar of Dante's shirt, to let the holy water cover his frontside. "Just remember..." His eyes moved to watch as the water rolled out of the mouth of the bottle and splashed downward. "...nothing you say will impact this situation in any way."
Dante snorted as Isaac arched him back, his breath catching in the back of his throat at the force of the movement. His body shifted faintly beneath his own power, but the binds were too strong, and he was left again to struggle for control. He nipped at Isaac as he licked his lips, his fangs brushing up against his tongue. He wasn't going to let him get away with shit like that, no.
Dante hissed between his teeth as the first drops of the water touched his skin, causing it to blister and boil up in response, eating away at the flesh until it disappated. It was like acid. Worse, because Isaac could play and fondle him all he wanted, and here, he was left at this man's mercy.
"... Try this: fuck you." He smirked, baring his fangs at the young Forgemaster. Try him, Isaac, he was ready to take anything you wanted to pull. He was not going to give him any satisfaction out of this torture.
The nip at his tongue only made Isaac cackle softly, writhing Dante back a bit and redoing his grip on the halfling's hair. And as he did so, Isaac dropped to his knees behind him and set the bottle down to a side. "Fuck me? Careful, sweetheart." His free hand moved up, tickling and tapping at the flesh under Dante's chin. "It's been a while for me, and I do have command over all your precious, physical movements."
Fingers grazed aound Dante's blistering, raw throat, making sure to pause and jab at one particularly nasty-looking scathe as a means to add insult to injury; though, as if apologetically, Isaac followed it with another lean in and gentle swipe of his tongue. As though he didn't realize that would hurt just as much; he knew it would, which was why he did it a second time and said, "It's been a while since I've tasted blood as well. Yours is quite sweet."
Down his back, Isaac's fingers traced, until they found themselves at his flank, poking at a couple of his ribs. "Have you ever had a lung punctured before, precious?"
The worst thing about healing so fast, was that the pain was fresh each time something would maim you. So while the wounds were steadily healing, each fresh touch of the water against his skin would cause the same blistering to occur, and even as Isaac leaned down to lick the long gash on his collar, it was beginning to heal. His head swooned to the side, and he snorted again, more as a challenge to Isaac's position then one of pain.
Not like shit like this didn't hurt like fuck. "What, you want me to fuck you?" Heh heh, fucking retard. His face contorted as Isaac pressed at his ribs. Jesus fucking Christ, if he was going to hurt him, he could fucking do it already. "Huh. Lung punctured? Probably." Somewhere along the line. Well, actually, he could think of a few specific examples, but he wasn't going to bother.
I'll answer this once I've had sleep!