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abandon all hope
Found this while going through some files. Small thing. I think it was requested by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chirachira, although I cannot for the life of me remember the prompt. Dante and Trish. Unfinished, I think. Between the scenes DMC1. The trick to DMC1 fic is to make the dialogue as stilted and terrible as possible, and you've pretty much got the canon down.
They were a few hours out of port when the oceans skies grew black and the oceans turned the color of lead. When the first heavy swell hit the prow, the captain wanted to change course. Wanted to hug the shoreline and avoid the clouds. Miss, you must excuse me. There’s schedule to keep. If I don’t dock by the 7th…
“I understand,” said his passenger. “I have a schedule to keep as well.” He took a lot of passengers, if they could pay, and if they weren’t too far out of his way, and if they paid extra for anything illegal, but he’d never had a client quite like this woman and her companion. She was a tall, slim thing with a long, sharp face and hair down to her waist. She’d’ve been beautiful if she didn’t look like she’d eat you alive. And her companion…well.
“I’m very sorry.” He really was. He’d have to refund her and she’d paid an awful lot. Cash, too. Right on the spot. “With the weather the way it is.”
Lights on the horizon flickered in her sunglasses as she fingered them down. Her icy eyes met his with a cool disinterest. Thunder boomed. She rested her long fingers along the railing, and glanced into the churning seas. “My employer won’t be happy,” she said, mildly. “I hope you’ll reconsider.” She gave her pale head a toss and led with a bare shoulder a smooth strut back below deck. The captain watched her go with his heart in his throat and ordered his crew to keep their course.
“We should reach the waters of Mallet in a couple of hours,” said the demon Trish, leaning in through the door. “We’ll take one of the lifeboats. There are reefs around most of the island and the local captains know the stories about the cove. He won’t take any farther than that if he’s smart and values life. Can’t say the same for ourselves, can we?” She cocked her head in a way most men found quite alluring, and wore on her face the sharpest, daring smirk.
This one didn’t want to rise to the bait. “Good to know,” he said, blandly. He stared out the porthole. “Glad I don’t get seasick.” He didn’t look at her. Kept his hand on the case where he kept his sword, tapping a boot in boredom as he slouched over the tiny berth’s one chair. Trish decided then that she didn’t like this man. Too much ego, not enough questions, it was like being born to shoot fish in a barrel, and Trish resented her Master for the insult of it.
“Something on your mind?” she ventured, hoping the answer would be ‘no’, but her express instructions were to gain his confidence and it could not be said she didn’t try.
The devil hunter made a vague noise, pulled out one of his guns for a polishing. Trish was halfway out the door when his voice followed her: “So. Not too phased by storms, huh?”
The demon blinked. Of all the- “There’s not much to be phased by, is there?” she answered, glancing back. His gaze stayed fixed on his gun, the black one. Couldn’t look at her, then. She sneered. Oh, poor baby. “In my line of work, I think of it like a kindred spirit.” This was perfectly true.
chirachira, although I cannot for the life of me remember the prompt. Dante and Trish. Unfinished, I think. Between the scenes DMC1. The trick to DMC1 fic is to make the dialogue as stilted and terrible as possible, and you've pretty much got the canon down. They were a few hours out of port when the oceans skies grew black and the oceans turned the color of lead. When the first heavy swell hit the prow, the captain wanted to change course. Wanted to hug the shoreline and avoid the clouds. Miss, you must excuse me. There’s schedule to keep. If I don’t dock by the 7th…
“I understand,” said his passenger. “I have a schedule to keep as well.” He took a lot of passengers, if they could pay, and if they weren’t too far out of his way, and if they paid extra for anything illegal, but he’d never had a client quite like this woman and her companion. She was a tall, slim thing with a long, sharp face and hair down to her waist. She’d’ve been beautiful if she didn’t look like she’d eat you alive. And her companion…well.
“I’m very sorry.” He really was. He’d have to refund her and she’d paid an awful lot. Cash, too. Right on the spot. “With the weather the way it is.”
Lights on the horizon flickered in her sunglasses as she fingered them down. Her icy eyes met his with a cool disinterest. Thunder boomed. She rested her long fingers along the railing, and glanced into the churning seas. “My employer won’t be happy,” she said, mildly. “I hope you’ll reconsider.” She gave her pale head a toss and led with a bare shoulder a smooth strut back below deck. The captain watched her go with his heart in his throat and ordered his crew to keep their course.
“We should reach the waters of Mallet in a couple of hours,” said the demon Trish, leaning in through the door. “We’ll take one of the lifeboats. There are reefs around most of the island and the local captains know the stories about the cove. He won’t take any farther than that if he’s smart and values life. Can’t say the same for ourselves, can we?” She cocked her head in a way most men found quite alluring, and wore on her face the sharpest, daring smirk.
This one didn’t want to rise to the bait. “Good to know,” he said, blandly. He stared out the porthole. “Glad I don’t get seasick.” He didn’t look at her. Kept his hand on the case where he kept his sword, tapping a boot in boredom as he slouched over the tiny berth’s one chair. Trish decided then that she didn’t like this man. Too much ego, not enough questions, it was like being born to shoot fish in a barrel, and Trish resented her Master for the insult of it.
“Something on your mind?” she ventured, hoping the answer would be ‘no’, but her express instructions were to gain his confidence and it could not be said she didn’t try.
The devil hunter made a vague noise, pulled out one of his guns for a polishing. Trish was halfway out the door when his voice followed her: “So. Not too phased by storms, huh?”
The demon blinked. Of all the- “There’s not much to be phased by, is there?” she answered, glancing back. His gaze stayed fixed on his gun, the black one. Couldn’t look at her, then. She sneered. Oh, poor baby. “In my line of work, I think of it like a kindred spirit.” This was perfectly true.