09-09-2015, 04:29 PM
Dante's own coy smile struggled to stay whole at Zangetsu's reply. He gave a reassuring laugh (mostly just fooling himself) while trying to figure out the missing element. His assertion was right, wasn't it? Dante shot his eyes around, observing the various memories, moving and acting as if these two weren't having a decisive battle of wits before their eyes.
Zangetsu's laughing intensified, and he held out a hand, the disappeared blade suddenly falling from the ceiling for the pale ghost of a man to catch it. He swiped it across the polished wood floor, and then, all too suddenly for Dante to stop, he lunged forward. Hastily, Dante brought up his crossed arms to block the assault- and failed completely, the massive katana piercing his chest and digging into his his heart. Did he not have Royalguard? No, of course he didn't. How silly.
After that split-second of regret ended, Dante bit his lip to hold back a strained, agonizing scream. Barely succeeding, he managed to choke out, "Again? Seriously?" I mean, just how many times had this sort of thing happened before?
Also to note, getting stabbed through the heart felt worse that normal. But maybe that was because of the sudden influx of feelings overwhelming his mind. Desires, urges, errant thoughts, mentality... he wasn't just feeling Zangetsu's power, he was getting every fragment of his emotion and instinct. So this was his gimmick - to fuse with a host to share everything with them, not just raw power but emotion.
It sucked, in Dante's opinion. Sharing his mind with another entity wasn't exactly popular in his book, especially when being mocked and stabbed in the process.
The half-devil tried to shift on the blade, either to get off of it or to get close enough to plant a fist into Zangetsu's smug-ass shark-grin face. Unfortunately, his attempt backfired when moving caused a new spear of pain to shoot up his spine, piercing his mind. Dante cringed and keeled over standing, desperate to stay on his heels. Looking down, the sword wasn't causing any physical wounds, but it was penetrating his spirit, an aspect of him that was capable of harm and suffrage all the same, just under different circumstances.
And suffering he was. Zangetsu's desire to see into Dante's memories forced him to relive them for himself, the images speeding through his mind like a video on fast-forward. All the battles he won and demons he slayed, alongside all the painful deaths and losses. He was not invincible at heart, especially with his being a half-blood, and Zangetsu had to know that. Or, perhaps, he was just keen to gloss over the emotional pain and focus on what simply interested his own desires.
The Son of Sparda grit his teeth again and looked up to face Zangetsu again, but was greeted by a different visage - his own. A monochrome shadow of himself, when he was younger and more spry, but also more impulsive and conflicted. Not his prime if you asked him, but Zangetsu apparently thought otherwise; or maybe thought likewise, and assumed such a form to mock Dante. In that case, Zangetsu was a jerk.
Without much fanfare, Zangetsu reverted to his previous form, walking past the strained Dante to exit the shop. Still, the people in the room talked and acted as if nothing strange had happened. The bell jingled, and a moment later, the door closed, the sounds and sights beginning to fade.
At last, with a mighty heave, Dante wrenched the sword from his chest, his spirit sparking with one more flare of pain before subsiding into an internal ache in his heart. Throwing the apparition away into the fading void, Dante closed his eyes to catch his breath... and opened them back in reality, to find a vastly different sight: the sword that was Zangetsu reforming before him into a new form. Reassembling into that pale ghast he had seen within that inner world, the instinct-driven weapon seemed keen to enjoy his new freedom, even if he regarded this body with strangeness.
But Dante had other intentions for that wicked personification of instinct.
Summoning his strength, Dante drew Rebellion from his back and pointed it at Zangetsu's pale form. "I think we've reached something of a disagreement," he said, with a surprisingly light tone for someone who was just spiritually impaled. It gave the impression of a potentially insane character, but Dante was just trying to get into his normal groove. "I came here to obtain a weapon from someone named Zangetsu, not waste my time aligning myself with some sword with a mind of its own.
"And you know what? Maybe I don't get it," Dante admitted forcefully, swinging his broadsword in brandish. "But I'd rather be ignorant and free than be a one-track instinct-driven fiend!"
Zangetsu's laughing intensified, and he held out a hand, the disappeared blade suddenly falling from the ceiling for the pale ghost of a man to catch it. He swiped it across the polished wood floor, and then, all too suddenly for Dante to stop, he lunged forward. Hastily, Dante brought up his crossed arms to block the assault- and failed completely, the massive katana piercing his chest and digging into his his heart. Did he not have Royalguard? No, of course he didn't. How silly.
After that split-second of regret ended, Dante bit his lip to hold back a strained, agonizing scream. Barely succeeding, he managed to choke out, "Again? Seriously?" I mean, just how many times had this sort of thing happened before?
Also to note, getting stabbed through the heart felt worse that normal. But maybe that was because of the sudden influx of feelings overwhelming his mind. Desires, urges, errant thoughts, mentality... he wasn't just feeling Zangetsu's power, he was getting every fragment of his emotion and instinct. So this was his gimmick - to fuse with a host to share everything with them, not just raw power but emotion.
It sucked, in Dante's opinion. Sharing his mind with another entity wasn't exactly popular in his book, especially when being mocked and stabbed in the process.
The half-devil tried to shift on the blade, either to get off of it or to get close enough to plant a fist into Zangetsu's smug-ass shark-grin face. Unfortunately, his attempt backfired when moving caused a new spear of pain to shoot up his spine, piercing his mind. Dante cringed and keeled over standing, desperate to stay on his heels. Looking down, the sword wasn't causing any physical wounds, but it was penetrating his spirit, an aspect of him that was capable of harm and suffrage all the same, just under different circumstances.
And suffering he was. Zangetsu's desire to see into Dante's memories forced him to relive them for himself, the images speeding through his mind like a video on fast-forward. All the battles he won and demons he slayed, alongside all the painful deaths and losses. He was not invincible at heart, especially with his being a half-blood, and Zangetsu had to know that. Or, perhaps, he was just keen to gloss over the emotional pain and focus on what simply interested his own desires.
The Son of Sparda grit his teeth again and looked up to face Zangetsu again, but was greeted by a different visage - his own. A monochrome shadow of himself, when he was younger and more spry, but also more impulsive and conflicted. Not his prime if you asked him, but Zangetsu apparently thought otherwise; or maybe thought likewise, and assumed such a form to mock Dante. In that case, Zangetsu was a jerk.
Zangetsu Wrote:"Do you get it now? When we are like this.. we can overcome great walls in front of us. I am not a tool, I am the closest ally you have here... Don't you understand, Half-Devil?"Dante reached out angrily, but Zangetsu was already walking away, leaving the giant blade lodging in Dante's torso. Dante growled threateningly back, now struggling to remove the over-sized weapon from his heart. "I told you - call me Dante...!"
Without much fanfare, Zangetsu reverted to his previous form, walking past the strained Dante to exit the shop. Still, the people in the room talked and acted as if nothing strange had happened. The bell jingled, and a moment later, the door closed, the sounds and sights beginning to fade.
At last, with a mighty heave, Dante wrenched the sword from his chest, his spirit sparking with one more flare of pain before subsiding into an internal ache in his heart. Throwing the apparition away into the fading void, Dante closed his eyes to catch his breath... and opened them back in reality, to find a vastly different sight: the sword that was Zangetsu reforming before him into a new form. Reassembling into that pale ghast he had seen within that inner world, the instinct-driven weapon seemed keen to enjoy his new freedom, even if he regarded this body with strangeness.
But Dante had other intentions for that wicked personification of instinct.
Summoning his strength, Dante drew Rebellion from his back and pointed it at Zangetsu's pale form. "I think we've reached something of a disagreement," he said, with a surprisingly light tone for someone who was just spiritually impaled. It gave the impression of a potentially insane character, but Dante was just trying to get into his normal groove. "I came here to obtain a weapon from someone named Zangetsu, not waste my time aligning myself with some sword with a mind of its own.
"And you know what? Maybe I don't get it," Dante admitted forcefully, swinging his broadsword in brandish. "But I'd rather be ignorant and free than be a one-track instinct-driven fiend!"