02-07-2016, 04:57 PM
Boy, this really was a handful.
Dante had just finished recalling what he was up to before he found himself sucked into a favor for a long-dead warrior. Or, rather, what he had been doing besides dying. The devil hunter, working with the Exorcists, had been making an effort to hold off the Akuma trying to besiege the creation of their Black Order. Then it all got awful blurry from there, what with that stupid-looking angel child thing gradually beating him into a bloody pulp. Since the Hollow dominated his mind until death's door, Dante had no idea what other events transpired in the meantime.
A hint of worry crossed his mind. If he didn't stand half a chance against that one Akuma, would Kanda even be able to drive it off? Dante dismissed the concern; that Exorcist had seemed rather powerful, from what he had witnessed of the man's ability. If anyone knew how to kill that one demon, it couldn't be anyone else but the swordsman.
Hopefully, anyways. It's not like the nephilim was given much more sway over the matter at this point.
So, where was he now? Something about finding anyone he would recognize here? A lot of the individuals gathered in this temple stood out of being... individual, for lack of a more respectful term, but there was nobody that personally resounded with Dante yet-
"Tony, it's been a long time."
Tony Redgrave. When was the last time Dante had ever used that name? Not as long ago as he had thought (or hoped, perhaps), but as a mere alias within the Colosseum. Then, that presented the next question- who had he met that recognized him by that alias?
"Well, well," the red-coat began, not even facing his new old comrade yet and still already cracking a smile upon his darkened, age-creased face. That act was a reflexive thing, but in some way, Dante couldn't help but feel a bit genuine about it. All too dramatically, he twisted around to get an eyeful of the speaker; the green hair, elfin ears, and gritty face stuck out well enough. "Fancy meeting the Dynamite Kid here, eh?"
"Please," the Eco Warrior held up a palm, as if he could make Dante's words stop in their tracks, "Just call me Jak. That title... doesn't suit me." His features seemed to scrunch up, as if recalling memories he would rather not.
Dante simply shrugged in response at the correction. "Whatever you say. But don't call me Tony, then," the devil hunter clarified, suddenly appearing rather insistent with his own request.
There followed a bated amount of silence, as the gears seemed to turn behind Jak's eyes. When his expression tipped into confusion, eyelids narrowing and an eyebrow raising, Dante clarified with a renewed smirk, "Let's just say that title doesn't suit me, either."
"...That's not your real name?" Jak half-asked, half-confirmed out loud. It was one thing to have some sort of nickname or callsign, but Tony Redgrave had seemed like a real name. Then, perhaps that name only served as a persona to cover up his real identity - which then implied he had something to hide. "So what is it- or, rather, what should I call you, then?"
Jak's former opponent tilted his head up and aside to think, but the exaggerated movement implied the action was illegitimate and just showy. The Eco Warrior remained patient, considering this was a potential ally, after all. After the moment passed, the white-haired man locked eyes again and answered, almost matter-of-factually, "Dante."
Well, didn't that name sound terribly familiar?
Dante himself, of course, had no idea of the dramatic irony in his reveal. At the moment, he wasn't even paying full attention, his vision craning past Jak's frame to glance at a handful of other 'champions'. Where he was looking, there seemed to be a couple of others with pointed ears, in some cadre of biological fashion. But the flowing cyan hair attached to one of them caught Dante's attention for some reason, and he himself couldn't quite place why.
Then the man glanced back over his indigo cloak, aware of someone's gaze upon him. The sorcerer and the devil hunter exchanged stares for a moment, Dante's visage narrowing into a grim look to match that of his old opponent.
"Sorry," the half-blood snapped his attention back to Jak, not aware if the young man had said anything more while he had been distracted, "I was just noting that you aren't the only 'old friend' around."
Dante had just finished recalling what he was up to before he found himself sucked into a favor for a long-dead warrior. Or, rather, what he had been doing besides dying. The devil hunter, working with the Exorcists, had been making an effort to hold off the Akuma trying to besiege the creation of their Black Order. Then it all got awful blurry from there, what with that stupid-looking angel child thing gradually beating him into a bloody pulp. Since the Hollow dominated his mind until death's door, Dante had no idea what other events transpired in the meantime.
A hint of worry crossed his mind. If he didn't stand half a chance against that one Akuma, would Kanda even be able to drive it off? Dante dismissed the concern; that Exorcist had seemed rather powerful, from what he had witnessed of the man's ability. If anyone knew how to kill that one demon, it couldn't be anyone else but the swordsman.
Hopefully, anyways. It's not like the nephilim was given much more sway over the matter at this point.
So, where was he now? Something about finding anyone he would recognize here? A lot of the individuals gathered in this temple stood out of being... individual, for lack of a more respectful term, but there was nobody that personally resounded with Dante yet-
"Tony, it's been a long time."
Tony Redgrave. When was the last time Dante had ever used that name? Not as long ago as he had thought (or hoped, perhaps), but as a mere alias within the Colosseum. Then, that presented the next question- who had he met that recognized him by that alias?
"Well, well," the red-coat began, not even facing his new old comrade yet and still already cracking a smile upon his darkened, age-creased face. That act was a reflexive thing, but in some way, Dante couldn't help but feel a bit genuine about it. All too dramatically, he twisted around to get an eyeful of the speaker; the green hair, elfin ears, and gritty face stuck out well enough. "Fancy meeting the Dynamite Kid here, eh?"
"Please," the Eco Warrior held up a palm, as if he could make Dante's words stop in their tracks, "Just call me Jak. That title... doesn't suit me." His features seemed to scrunch up, as if recalling memories he would rather not.
Dante simply shrugged in response at the correction. "Whatever you say. But don't call me Tony, then," the devil hunter clarified, suddenly appearing rather insistent with his own request.
There followed a bated amount of silence, as the gears seemed to turn behind Jak's eyes. When his expression tipped into confusion, eyelids narrowing and an eyebrow raising, Dante clarified with a renewed smirk, "Let's just say that title doesn't suit me, either."
"...That's not your real name?" Jak half-asked, half-confirmed out loud. It was one thing to have some sort of nickname or callsign, but Tony Redgrave had seemed like a real name. Then, perhaps that name only served as a persona to cover up his real identity - which then implied he had something to hide. "So what is it- or, rather, what should I call you, then?"
Jak's former opponent tilted his head up and aside to think, but the exaggerated movement implied the action was illegitimate and just showy. The Eco Warrior remained patient, considering this was a potential ally, after all. After the moment passed, the white-haired man locked eyes again and answered, almost matter-of-factually, "Dante."
Well, didn't that name sound terribly familiar?
Dante himself, of course, had no idea of the dramatic irony in his reveal. At the moment, he wasn't even paying full attention, his vision craning past Jak's frame to glance at a handful of other 'champions'. Where he was looking, there seemed to be a couple of others with pointed ears, in some cadre of biological fashion. But the flowing cyan hair attached to one of them caught Dante's attention for some reason, and he himself couldn't quite place why.
Then the man glanced back over his indigo cloak, aware of someone's gaze upon him. The sorcerer and the devil hunter exchanged stares for a moment, Dante's visage narrowing into a grim look to match that of his old opponent.
"Sorry," the half-blood snapped his attention back to Jak, not aware if the young man had said anything more while he had been distracted, "I was just noting that you aren't the only 'old friend' around."