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Age: 41
Country: United Kingdom

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June 19, 2019


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07/11/2019 08:53 PM 

Headcanon Drabble - DMC Verse - Be or not to be
Category: Stories

// headcanond drabble, inspired by the Manga explaning V´s first moments as an autonomous being//

Coldness was the first sensation he felt, biting, numbing coldness of crumbling floor tiles; once an eye-catcher of the former foyer of Sparda-Manor… now covered in debris and burned rubble.

- The place was lying in ruins, much like the whole family who once lived here. A loving family it had been, born out of one love not considered possible amongst the stars… - the love a demon knight and a human woman. A deep, pure, honest love, not possessing and crooked how one might assume due to the involvement of a being of the underworld.
Profound in a way that he eventually gave his life to protect his wife, his family – the two hybrid-born boys, twin boys.
However, in the end it was all in vain… his past caught up with him, them… destroyed them and left nothing but ruins. Even the once so innocent love between baby-brothers shattered under the impact of cruel fate, left the only two remaining family members caught in a seemingly endless circle of hate and destruction.

Decades passed by while the older of the two brothers, Vergil, eaten by hatred fueled by the false assumption of having been deliberately abandoned by their dying mother in her attempt to save his little brother, tried everything to destroy his once beloved younger sibbling. Over and over again he caused destruction and ruin in his attempt to gain evermore power, power which should help him to surpass Dante in order to defeat and annihilate him for good.

In the end he saw no other way than to get rid of all he considered a burden, all he claimed was holding him back to become the powerful being he was chosen to be – and so with the strength of his demon sword Yamato Vergil separate power, raw-demonic power and merciless, ruthless craving for revenge from the crumbling human body, the little humanity that was left within him, and even from some of his old fears and nightmares he saw as signs of weakness. All of them weak scraps only worth of perishing, dying, crumbling into dust… yet… -

The naked, gaunt, pale male body, moribund remnants, manlike dregs, the human part of Vergil slightly twitched; ataxic movements like those of a newborn fawn… or dying deer.
It was a miracle that they had not crumbled to dust already the moment they were separated from the hybrid-body, yet what happened next was surely nothing foreseen by the by now cleansed, purely demonic entity – the faint, still stuttering beating of a human heart and beneath messed up strands of white hair a pair of dark green eyes fluttering open.

The coldness was overwhelming, but even more so was the impact of boundless fear, terror even, upon witnessing what was happening right in front of him – the obscenely bizarre creation act of a demon lord – and the realization of his own powerlessness.

Then again the gruesome scene helped to trigger the instinctive escape reflex inherent to every living being and though shaking knees and cramping legs refused to carry the meager body the just recently originated human form scrambled desperately on all four to get out of the way of the raging, monstrous entity, his contradicting side, the much greater demonic part of the soul of his former self.

Painstakingly slow the shivering male managed to bring some distance between himself and the still growing demon until he collapsed in the cover of what seemed to be the mostly charred remains of a bookshelf. Together with the almost drained, little strength he had left also the little, fleeting flame of desire to live was nearly gone once again and ever so fast.

His only duty left was the duty to die – to not be in the way of the creation of something bigger, of something mighty evil and powerful.
The pathetic hull of crumbling human flesh paralyzed by emotions, conscience, memories was obsolete, powerless, doomed to vanish.
Conscious yet without cause the frail human figure curled up like a fetus, about to give in to what deemed inevitable fate, waiting for this human heart to fail for good, to stop beating, to dissolve into dust.

That was the very moment when his fingertips accidentally brushed over something feeling familiar, the spine of a book.
In contrary to the icy stone beneath it felt almost warm, welcoming and instinctively his fingers closed round it, pulled it close enough that his blurred vision allowed him to noticed what it was – indeed a familiar sight, brown leather with faint golden inlays, well-thumped… together with the sensation of the soft surface this discovery shattered walls of repression and allowed memories believed to be long forgotten to flood in –
- Memories of two boys chasing each other in playful squabbling, brothers pretending to not having noticed the mess muddy boots caused downstairs in the hallway, having each others back while sitting through another afternoon of being grounded inside thanks to their unrelenting mischievous nature, brothers curled up against each other cozily on a soft couch while a familiar voice was reading poems from exactly this book -

A deep, soulful sigh escaped the sunken chest of the human remains – the cause, there it was… reason…. reason for living… - an identity, being more than just unneeded, unwanted debris.
There it was back, hot and burning, the desire to be, the will to live and with it the terror of being wiped out right here, right now by the product of his own overpowering contradicting side.

While trembling fingers were clinging to the small volume as if was fit to serve as a shield against all evil this one all-encompassing wish broke its way, was not restrained in thought any more.
“I don´t want to die”


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