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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years

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WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - CHAPTER 1 (VERGIL X NERO’S MOTHER)

Summary: Vergil arrives in Fortuna and crosses path with a rebellious lady dressed in red. But even if he doesn't want pay attention, Fortuna seemed determined to intertwine their lives.

(PROLOGUE)

Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda’s past

Author’s note: So, let me introduce you to Elissa aka Nero's mother. I've decided to make her rebellious and quite feisty to mirror Nero's impetuosity. After all, that kid had to take after someone, right? So why not mummy dearest? I know the story might seem slow to start but I need to set up the scenery for the events to come. Hope you like it anyway.

It all started on a Holy Thursday, on the first day of a most-welcomed vigorous spring that tinted the cityscape of the Castle Town of Fortuna in luminous shades of gold and blue. The cobbled streets were empty, the shops and cafes all closed, for all the inhabitants were gathered inside the Cathedral whose majestic dome overlooked the nearby Renaissance-style buildings, a sacred beacon calling the devotees to pray. But the religious establishment was nothing in comparison to the partially-veiled giant-like idol standing tall and massive within the ramparts of the city, a figure made of stone and marble with the face of Vergil’s father. It didn’t look very resembling to him. Sparda never had such delicate features, not in his son’s memories at least. But it did not matter. The young man wasn’t here to judge some clearly distasteful architecture. He was here for the answers and the promises of power that island kept in between its walls. “The Order of the Sword, huh? They worship a demon as a god?” This reality sounded foolish, incomprehensible even. His father was no god. He knew that better than anyone. But what was religion if not idealisation, divinisation of a flawed man? Humans …

***

“Elissa!” A fearful whisper pronounced the girl’s name but it would take more than a whisper for her to stop her mischief. “Elissa! Come dddd-down!” The girl named Elissa smiled, enjoying the risk she was definitely taking. Degrading the Savior? Not her first time. But she had never climbed that high before. “What if sss-omeone sees you … sss-ees us?” She rolled her green eyes, weary of the perpetual anxiety shaking the already very trembling voice of her friend. “Agnus! Stop being such a pussy!” She shouted-murmured, not really knowing why she was murmuring at all. “Everyone’s at church!” Agnus fidgeted even more as he saw the young woman taking her time spraying blue paint on the statue, the tip of her rosy tongue out, an adorable display of her concentration and perfectionism. “Does it look like the Guard’s symbol to you?” She demanded, observing her rebellious art from all possible angles. Agnus sighed and looked up, regretting to have left his lab for this childish yet dangerous adventure. He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He even had a woman and a baby daughter waiting for him at home. So why wasting time playing vandals with Elissa? He knew why. “You’re not looking under my skirt, are you?” The man blushed, terribly uncomfortable. “What? Of cccc-ourse not!” But he was a scientist and scientists were curious beings. That’s what he was telling himself each time he was thinking about what was hidden underneath Elissa’s crimson clothes.The Cathedral bells rang loud, signalling the end of today’s mass. Soon, the people of Fortuna would invade the streets again to come back to their boring daily occupations. “We’re definitely gonna get ccc-caught.” Agnus told himself. “What am I gonna tell Marcus?” A suspect noise stopped Agnus in his alarming thoughts. It was coming from a few streets away. Squeals and growls of fury and pain. Demons? “Ddd-did you hear that?” Elissa listened carefully and recognized the screams. She had heard similar ones in Mitis Forest recently. She had shut a lot of them up too. They were demons alright but not the worst kind. “Just a few …scarecrows.” She tried to reassure Agnus but realised he was already gone. “Such a pussy.” She shook her head, slightly exasperated but not surprised. Agnus was not famous for his bravery, quite the opposite. He was a coward but Elissa was okay with it. After all, he had been providing the Guardians with very useful information concerning demons for a few years now, all that thanks to his natural talents as an alchemist. The girl jumped off the statue and, in order to remove the beige dust from the fabric, shook her old red dress typical of Fortuna fashion, one of the few clothes she had kept from her past life in the Order and that she now used to blend in among the Fortunans each time she would venture in town. She then cautiously pulled up her skirt to reveal a thigh belt hidden under the white petticoat and strapped the spray can, right next to a sharp curved dagger she kept in a thin leather sheath just in case. “Hey! You!” Did we say cautiously? “Shit!” Time to run.

***

Yamato shone in the sun, casting a shadow on Vergil’s young face that even this small fight hadn’t manage to fluster, and once again the blade made one with the saya with a perfect clink that echoed like a lethal musical note in the demon-cleared street. “Just what are your true intentions?” He wondered out loud as he wrapped his blue frame under a linen cloak that looked foreign to anyone who would take a look.Elissa took a look, green eyes staring with curiosity from under her white hood she had carelessly thrown above her head in precipitation to cover her soft locks of fiery ginger when she had left the place of her previous mischief as fast as she could, successfully escaping the angry guards shouting at her. She took a look, knowing exactly what this stranger had just done as she watched him crossing the crowd with purpose, alone, going up the street towards the Cathedral while everyone was walking down, their minds still lost in religious psalms. She stopped in her track for a second to admire him, wondering who he was and where he came from. She imagined a distant city at first, somewhere far away from here, crowded with people who hadn’t been indoctrinated by the Order’s promises. But then, as she noticed his bearing, so stately and yet so lonely, she thought he wasn’t from a particular place but from many places. A wanderer, traveling the world, someone who held knowledge, who had seen what was beyond the horizon of Fortuna. He probably noticed her stare as he concealed his face even more under his hood and slightly hunched his shoulders. So, out of respect and despite her devouring curiosity, Elissa walked away, certain that if Sparda wanted her to meet this mysterious strange again, then their paths would cross one more time.Vergil quietly made his way in the main avenue where the marble giant was standing and slowed down when he noticed a small crowd gathered by the statue’s feet. Everyone was gasping in shock, hands over mouths as if they were the witnesses of the worst sacrilege, the most terrible infamy. Wondering what the fuss was all about, the Son of Sparda peered over everyone’s shoulders from a distance but close enough to spot a graffiti plastered on the leg of the thing the Fortunans seemed to call The Savior. It was a symbol of some sort, a pair of winged arms with sharp claws protecting Sparda’s horned head. It had been drawn with turquoise paint that was still running down the immaculate white stone and that was leaving a heavy odour of solvents in the ambient air, identical to the one Vergil had smelt when that girl who had stared at him with insistence had walked past him, an odour indicating Vergil when the degradation had been made and who had done it.He scoffed briefly, amused by the political provocation and the over-dramatic reaction of the bigoted crowd, and after glancing one last time at the spray-painted symbol, resumed his exploration of the city. “Looks like appearances can be deceiving in this city after all.” Vergil said as he thought about the rebellious girl in saint clothes who didn’t seem to be new in the graffiti drawing business according to the devotees’ wrath. “Those rebels again! Soiling the image of Sparda with their belligerent propaganda. Hope the Order will find them soon.” They agreed with each other with angry nods. “They are worse than demons! They probably hide in shadows like the rats they are.” Had Vergil just stepped in the middle of a civil war?

***

When her holy hood fell back on her shoulders, Elissa sighed in relief, glad to finally feel her soft ginger hair finally liberated from that awful religious cage of white cotton she couldn’t stand wearing anymore. Few more minutes and she would also get rid of that ridiculous dress that constricted her like a straitjacket. But right now, she had a meeting to attend. Summoned by her leader, probably to claim responsibility for her new roguishness that had caused such a big turmoil in the city this morning, she pushed the door of Guardian Marcus’s office without an ounce of fear or apprehension. She knew full well she would not be reprimanded. She never was. “Elissa! My child, come.” The white-haired old man welcomed her with wide opened arms and showed her a seat before him where she sat in silence and waited for him to say what he had to say.At first, he just stared at her, without a word but with half a smile and a look of amusement he couldn’t keep to himself. And finally he spoke with a cheerful tone. “You should have painted it red.” His loud laugh echoed in the room and he took a huge sip of the red wine waiting to be drunk in a fancy chalice next to his velvet armchair. Elissa had a timid respectful smile; unable to act casual with this man who, even though was distant family, had been leading the cause she was fighting for for so many years, since even before she was born. “How did you find out?” “Agnus told me.” He admitted and gauged the girl’s reaction who seemed more disappointed in herself than surprised. “Should have thought so.” “Be careful who you surround yourself with, Elissa. Offering someone your trust can be as dangerous as any blade. Believe me, I know.” He traced the large scar along his wrinkled face, a reminder of an old betrayal that had made him lose, in addition to his left eye, a man he used to call brother and who was now leading Fortuna thanks to his lies and his dark secrets. Sanctus. “I shall remember your advice, sir.” “But you know what surprises me the most? It’s that Adel didn’t try to talk you out of this. After all, he follows you like a shadow … an enamoured shadow even.” Marcus smiled, trying to build complicity with this young lady, the granddaughter of the brother he had lost long ago, a child he loved like his own. Elissa smiled in return and shook her head, having trouble to believe she was having this conversation with her leader. “And yet you seemed keen on refusing his advances. May I know why?” “I didn’t know this was a matchmaking appointment.” Elissa humoured, definitely amused by the situation. “I’m old and I’ve been at war for most of my life. So let’s say, the frivolity of youth and the burgeoning loves are like peaceful songs to my heart.” Elissa sighed and her heart, in spite of this new attempt at making it yield to a man she didn’t love, once again refused to see Adel as nothing else than a friend. “I’m just not interested. Enamoured shadows are not my type.” “ And what, pray tell, is your type?”

***

Vergil had visited many places in his short lifetime. Perpetually on the move – he refused to say ‘on the run anymore’ for running was for the weak – he had seen so many cities, so many different landscapes, some in shades of blue, some in shades of green and other in shades of gold, so many colours most men would have forgotten but that he had somehow always cared to remember. But there was something about Fortuna that made her unique, different from all the things he had had the chance to see. Perhaps was it the anachronistic almost medieval atmosphere that had shaped the city architecture and the inhabitants’ lifestyle or perhaps was it because every edifice seemed to hold secret knowledge about his family. Whatever it was, Vergil was sure of one thing; what made Fortuna special were clearly not the city’s filthy underground bars from Port Caerula, well hidden under the docks, away from prying eyes that would be easily outraged by the debauchery they held between their walls. That kind of place he was familiar with, despite his revulsion for them and the people frequenting them. “Hello, sugar. You’re a new face.” An eccentric woman declared as she tried to take a peek under Vergil’s cowl, her voluptuous body leant against the bar. “And a handsome one. I would lower my price for a face like yours.” The young man glanced at the woman, shortly but long enough to see how she looked, the embodiment of repulsive tragedy that once looked beautiful. Her makeup was smeared and barely hiding the bruises and the cuts on her young face and she was wearing a church outfit ripped at the thighs and purposely unbuttoned to reveal her generous cleavage. And in her velvet purse, she kept a wig made of dry artificial ginger hair some despicable men had certainly asked her to wear more than once. “Not interested. Now leave.” Vergil’s tone was curt and cold but she insisted anyway. “You’re sure? I make the best blowjobs in all Fortuna. Isn’t that right, Captain?” She nodded towards a young charismatic brown-skinned man carrying a crossbow on his back and drinking sitting the stool right next to Vergil. When he heard his name, he spared a glare at the prostitute and at the Son of Sparda as well for no particular reason but because he hated his occasional obscene deviations to be exposed. “He just looooves some naughty church girls. Do you like them too?” Vergil ignored her and focused again on his drink, lying untouched on the bar. He didn’t like drinking. “Or do you prefer them innocent and prudish? I can be either.” “Quit with your lies and just leave, Pomona².” The dark-haired man ordered with a strong voice that made her smile. “ Ha! Looks like I finally have my name back. See you around, sugar… Adel.” She winked and left to sell her body to someone else that would accept it in exchange of a bit of money.“You should not visit that sort of bar if women like Pomona bother you, stranger.” The so-called Adel warned before drinking from his tankard. He, just like everybody else here, could tell Vergil was not from around. All they had to do was looking at him. After all, everyone knew everyone else in a small reclusive island like Fortuna. “It’s sometimes the loudest, worst people that give all the information a man looks for.” “So you’re looking for information then. About what?” Vergil was a curious man but he despised curiosity in other people, especially when he was the subject of their curiosity. “Nothing a man like you knows about.” The answer surprised the Moor who hadn’t expected such arrogance coming from a stranger. “Well, piece of advice. If you want information in Fortuna, there are two ways to get them. Either you don’t behave like an arrogant asshole or you pay for them.” Vergil smirked slightly under his hood as he already knew how to react to such pathetic insult. Adel was not a difficult man to read. “Just like when you want a woman’s love, am I right?” The provocation burnt and stang like the most vicious hot poker piercing through

Adel’s dignity and ego. It pushed him to stand up and grab his crossbow in retaliation. But his weapon, as precise and strong as it was, was useless in close combat and it instantly met the sharp blade of a magnificent katana that would make any swordsman worth the name grow pale. And with a dexterous swift move, the crossbow flew across the room as if it was a paper plane.But the clients in the bar didn’t gasp at the legendary Yamato. They gasped at the silvery-white hair adorning Vergil’s head that had been revealed when he inadvertently had lost his hood in this express fight. “It’s the hair of Sparda.” People whispered, amazed. With an expert graceful move, Yamato found his saya again and Vergil walked through the crowd, high-handed and resolved to escape this place and all those bothering eyes he felt upon him.But as he pushed the door of the establishment, he came face to face with the feminine figure he had noticed in the streets this morning. It stopped him in his track and for the first time in his lifetime, but certainly not the last, he looked into her deep green eyes. They reminded him of an old poem he loved greatly, one he had read so many times and would never grow tired of, about a dark forest and a tyger burning bright³. And as he gazed in that girl’s look and witnessed that emerald wood, wild and dense, trying to conceal in vain the fiery fur of a predator, Vergil knew he would never read that poem the same way or imagine Blake’s colours in the shades he would normally imagine them. And so he stared, longer than he wanted, almost the same way she gazed at the pale blue topazes and at the god-like silver hair crowning his head. But while fire is wild, the ice is timid. And thus, admiration only shows through the eyes of the red lady. And when she finally opened her mouth to speak her mind, Vergil escaped into the night leaving lost shadows behind him. But that was fine. Shadows were not the lady’s type after all.It all started on a Holy Thursday, on the first day of a most-welcomed vigorous spring that tinted the cityscape of the Castle Town of Fortuna in luminous shades of gold and blue. But among them there was this vibrant red and two sparkling amber-tinted emeralds reflecting brighter than anything else in a pair of icy eyes, a mirror who strangely wouldn’t mind seeing that reflection again.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ¹ Marcus: derived from the name of the Roman god of war, Mars to highlight Marcus' status and personality. ² Pomona: From Latin pomus "fruit tree". The word "Pomme" is also the French for "apple", the fruit of temptation. Pomona will come back in other chapters. ³ a tyger burning bright : From William Blake's poem The Tyger

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil #nero's mother #vergil x nero's mother #vergil fanfiction

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spearxwind · 4 years

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OOF... i dont even have a theme for the major extinction characters sjlklfdhk. i dont.. i dont have most minor characters planned out even

I WILL GIVE YOU HOWEVER, a song that’s been inspiring me for certain worldbuilding things (though i cant say much bc idk if itll end up showing in the story at all but you can have it!)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XciV8HuNQLw [it’s realm breaker, by mechina]

Oh man, im influenced by a bunch of art and comics but i couldnt pin down specific inspirations for those haha

as for the more broad sense, i also have a bunch of things! significantly, physics and space. it might not look like it but i think a lot about the logistics of things and whatever rules would exist in my universes etc. it does suck sometimes bc it prevents me from doing things just for the hell of it, but i love applying knowledge to things. and space has always been something really close to me, my dad’s an astrophysicist so ive been exposed to all sorts of cool knowledge about it since i was a wee bab

i also really really love metaphors and symbolism, but rather than take inspiration from things i just use my own personal symbolism x) i put a lot of myself in what i do. which.. i guess could be said for many artists too so its not too special haha

and also as with many other artists, i AM fueled by spite significantly. specifically 1. for the people who once thought or who still think id never be good to do art, or that id never get better at what i do. 2. for people who draw wings wrong (especially professional people? what’s wrong with you. im begging you to look at a bird) 3. for people and companies that make terrible designs with terrible decisions (they fuel me to do better than them) 4. for people who believe that the only way to be good at art and design is to make overly complex and visually charged, detailed designs with many colors/hues (all my ocs are fairly simple and have the most limited colors kffhk)

im sure there’s a lot more but ive spent a lot of time writing this out already and i cant really think of anything else so i hope this is a good enough answer!!

god i do NOT have enough knowledge for this but what the fuck was up with the volturi lol. like fuckin, vampire goth club over there did nothing to change over hundreds of years, all of them still stuck in their medieval ways. i remember a plot point that was touched upon was that they had a specific person lure in a bunch of lost tourists through the sewer entrance so that the volturi could drink them and like ?? bro. how is this not investigated at any point, ever. like a shit ton of tourists just disappear ??? all the time?? and no one gives a fuck?? no investigation?? what do they do with the bodies?????

also, they were willing to blast the carlisle family into fucking orbit over Turning A Child (tm) into a vampire, but they had absolutely no qualms about vampire wars/soldiers where a lot of people were irresponsibly turned into neophytes for their strength (like jasper) or people who turned others just for the fuck of it or bc theyd have sickass powers (like benjamin. that was the sole reason for benjamin being turned. bc the dude could feel that benj would have cool powers and he absolutely did... he was a fucking avatar. controller of the elements. and he did absolutely jack shit in the books. im still so mad)

but yeah anyway the volturi are big hypocrites. got nothing to say about their lifestyle and aesthetic tho bc italians just be like that

his horns and the spikes on his forearms and tail are rly solid and rly pointy so theyre about as dangerous as a solid, pointy big thing can be

the spikes on his neck and back are a lot softer though. theyre flat scales and are probably bendy, but still sturdy. they don’t have edges or anything so you wont be sliced up if you touch them but touching them is probably not too comfortable

alex would probably be a crocodile tbh! it’s one of the things i based his dragon form off of for the latest iteration, and i just think it fits him a lot (also its funny that crocodiles are water creatures but alex has a Big Dislike of water)

also i literally cannot see adri as anything other than a snake sklhfsdk. its what he is!! this is like asking someone’s favorite color but not letting them choose their actual favorite. do you want me to lie? do you want me to say something not true??

Honestly i always loved deer but refused to acknowledge it, especially to myself, and much less thought about having one as a sona bc “prey animals are lame” was rly prevalent in my circles for the longest time. everyone was a dragon or a wolf etc bc they wanted to be cool and so did i but i never vibed with it it took me a rly long time to just accept that i rly liked deer haha and i think what made me decide on it in the end was ‘well i can make a deer more monstery if i wanted to, i have that power’ and so i did then later i tied the whole ‘wrong deer’ aesthetic to my own personal symbolism of always being picked on by many until i got sick of it and learned to stand up for myself. my sona is something that’s not for people to prey on anymore, and so am i c:

honestly? ive never thought about it. im not too knowledgeable about dnd still so i dont think id be able to do them justice

ive thought about making dnd encounters based off of my ocs thought (like, how their powers would work turn/mechanic wise) but if i ever did i dont think id use them or talk about them :’)

jkdg gosh thats so sweet thank you sm!! im so happy you enjoy my stuff :’DDDD

WELL, in no particular order:

1. several glass bottles 2. bei’s pet golem sierra (they got her back though) 3. a knife or two probably 4. an air conditioning remote 5. do sewer rats count? sewer rats. besides all the other rats i mean 6. homeless man who tried to rob his store at gunpoint 7. the gun 8. drank a bottle of cyanide once 9. a motorcycle (as collateral damage) 10. tbh he will eat any creature he finds while walking around that’s small enough to fit in his mouth and no one can rly stop him

DISGOSTING!!! not even bc of the flavor i rly dont care abt that but bc like... warm pineapple... that’s the real crime

oh my gosh that’d be an honor tbh!! I’m not sure if i’d be a big help since i might be tied with school stuff at the time, but id definitely love to try!! ty!!

#ask #anon #ask dump #long post #yeeeeeeeeeeeeeehaw

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syndianites · 7 years

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Meet The Parents (Part One)

Ship: Chaos Trio (Tom x Mot x S2 Dianite)

Summary: In a strange turn of events, they decide to (awkwardly) introduce everyone to their parents. After all, they were basically their in-laws? Honestly, this could have gone better.

Chapter: 1/3

AN: B-Day fic for @theshadowlord :DDDD Ima try to draw a thing, but tbh, my art skills are rather lacking. (And it's a thing i've been thinking about for a while now….) I hope you like this though :0 I had the best time thinking of how to go about this instead of taking notes in class lol

(Also, I played around with the general continuity of the series, so Dia got his body back earlier than he did. To make it less awkward for me to write around XD Also might have taken a number of liberties in the overall happening of the world… oops)

They hadn't quite planned an awkward reunion for this trip, but they weren't really complaining. Tom, Mot, and Jordan had been sent to Inertia to retrieve something, and to ensure anyone who seldom deserved their entrapment was released. Of course, Dianite decided to tag along, preferring to keep an eye on his partners. (They didn’t mind. In their opinion, it was better to stay together).

But through their viewing of the prison, occasionally letting people free who had been overlooked previously (Andor had been rather adamant about getting any innocent personel released) Tom was starting to get impatient. Jordan had suggested, a while back, that they split to cover more ground, and he went off in search of… whatever they came there for. The zombie didn’t really know, and he would rather be dicking around with Mot and Dia, than… he shuddered.

It was awful really, seeing the state of some of the prisoners. But most he couldn’t let free. Earlier, he had unwittingly sat through some boring paperwork, each and every file for the people currently kept here. The prison, despite having been infiltrated and attacked by yours truly, was still operating, under the premise that some of the inhabitants deserved to be here. So not only had they been rummaging through pages of descriptions with endless names, and faces that didn’t match anymore, they were being scrutinized by Mianitee guards. Well, those of which knew better than to interfere with them, as they likely had heard of what happened here. (Almost none of them were original guards, the majority of the staff having died in their attack).

Now, he was tentatively peering into cells, trying to keep a neutral face in the wake of the rather… severe injuries many sported. It would appear the Mianitees running this joint weren’t too kind to their convicts. Even to his muted senses, the sheer smell of rot and infection made him want to gag. That was, however, the reason he had been the one sent down this way. This particular area was meant for the people who committed greater crimes, or rather, who the guards enjoyed torturing more. (Andor had been kept here for a while, or so his records said. Tom couldn’t help but wonder why he chose to let this place function still, despite seeing the worst of it).

He was ready to flee the area, when a low groan from on if the cells stopped him. Last he checked, he couldn't see anyone seemingly alive in that cell. A bit reluctantly, he wandered over to it, and did his best to check the inmates number. Scrawled upon the rest of his ratty uniform were the numbers 7249. His eyes widened, as he fished the door keys from his pocket. He remembered very clearly that Mot wanted him released, and the set jaw and hard eyes he said that with made it clear that there would be no argument. The door gave a wail as it scraped open, and Tom threw it back with a grunt. Inside, the man grimaced, peering up at him. With a deep croaking voice, he called out, “Did we get new guards already? Didn't know Mianite was too fond of zombies. I'd have imagined someone more armored too, but I guess you all might be a tad under armed nowadays.”

Tom just gave him a snort of derision. Waltzing in to heft him up, though the man’s feet were quick to give out, he idly commented, “I'm a Dianitee. Who even gives a shit if Mianite likes me?” His remark pulled a wheezing laugh from the man, who let himself lean partially on Tom’s shoulder. He opted to practically drag Tom through the halls, reasonable more eager to leave than the zombie.

When they finally hit open air, after a seemingly endless stretch of corridors, the ex-inmate chose to seat himself in the sparse grass surrounding the building. It was there he was given a first hand view of the injuries the man carried. Though the majority of the blood splattered on him seemed older than his wounds, a good deal of cuts were scattered across his skin. A few were still open, and a handful looked infected. As the zombie came closer to get his shirt off, the distinct smell of rot hung off him.

“Stay here,” Tom told him, finally freeing him of the barely passable clothing, “I'm going to go get a clean cloth or something. And medical supplies.” With a small pop in his knees, Tom sprang up and hurried back inside. If this man was important to Mot, then he'd best make sure he didn't sit too long, getting more infections. (He seriously hoped it wasn't a case where Mot hated the guy and wanted him to suffer…). He checked in with Jordan, and was directed towards a medical room.

Gathering a rough medkit, a bucket of clean water, and a couple of rags, he carefully made his way back to the man. His companion was carefully leaned back into his arms, soaking in the gentle rays of sunlight as the ball of light raced back towards the horizon. Setting his supplies down beside him, he exchanged a look with the man. Dunking a rag into the water and wringing it out, he informed him, “This is about to hurt like a bitch, just gonna warn you.”

Though he received an eye roll at the remark, he heard a sharp hiss as the zombie set to work on cleaning up the old, crusty splotches. This was how they spent the next twenty minutes. The only difficult part was getting the infected paces clean of blood, so that it could be disinfected later. By the time he’d replaced the murky browns with the pinkish red of irritated skin, the water inside the bucket had turned a sickly maroon.

“Just a suggestion,” the man groan, as the zombie turned his attention to medkit, “ don't ever become a goddamn nurse.” Tom grabbed the clean rag from the top of the kit, and opened the box. Inside were standard issue medical supplies, including the tweezers he would need, kindly wrapped in an airtight plastic, and the small bottle of water he had placed inside. Unscrewing the bottle, he rummaged around to find the salt he also stashed inside (that had surprisingly been rather hard to find) and upon finding it, sprinkled some inside and swirled the mixture.

Finished with his preparations (he was getting a rather skeptical look, but this worked for him for the many years of his existence, so he'd have to deal with it) he turned back to his new friend. “Don't worry mate.” Tom gave him a cheeky grin. “That wasn't even the worst part!” Taking his left arm in one hand, he carefully dripped some of concoction on a particularly nasty cut. His actions caused the man to let out a cut off yelp, as the initial contact stung. But as Tom cut off the stream, he carefully dabbed the edges, checking for any debris stuck inside the wound.

They continued in this manner for a few more minutes, before they were joined by another person. As Mot’s eyes adjusted to the natural light, he centered his gaze onto the pair. Tom threw a smile over his shoulder towards the mottled man, but he was ignored. His attention was captured by the man beside the zombie.

Following Tom’s gaze, the man locked eyes with the half-creeper. His mouth fell open, and he struggled into a more upright position. “Mot?” The small utterance sent both into action. Said halfling rushed forward, and he was met part way by the unnamed man pushing up into his feet. The two embraced, the man giving a slight grimace as Mot’s clothes were pressed into a few of his lacerations. Meanwhile, Tom slowly rose, trying not to break the moment.

They broke apart, but the man gently rested a hand upon Mot’s cheek. “You’ve grown so much, just look at you. You look so healthy and cared for, I just wish I could have been there.” The mottled man shook his head, swiftly replying, “You did the best you could. Even when you were gone I couldn't have asked for a better dad. A better life? Of course, we all wish for that. But I knew, even in my worst moments, that you did the best you could.”

Tom stood off to the side during this reunion, idly staring at the medical supplies he had out. He wasn't quite done cleaning his wounds, and there were a number he still needed to bandage. But they were having a moment. It was always a gift to see Mot so purely happy. He wrinkled his nose at the pungent water now contained in the bucket, and opted to refill it with cleaner water while the duo did… whatever you do when catching up with family.

As he reentered the building, headed towards the rather shabby medical wing, he gave a passing nod to Jordan, who was wrapped up in whatever he was doing. When he jerked the door to the med bay open, he was once more greeted with a sharp chemical smell. He went to dump the foul water, rubbing his nose as the liquid poured down the sink. After cleaning it out a little, and refilling it, he made his way back to the pair outside. Along the way, he was joined by Dia, who gave him a curious look as he hefted the water bucket along beside him. The zombie just shrugged.

Once they made their way out, Dia was quick to lock onto the two already seated in the grass. Turning his head partway towards Tom, he queried, “Is that Mot’s father?” The zombie nodded, going back to where he had set up.

Mot and his dad were still conversing, and neither of the newcomers were about to stop them. While Tom somewhat straightened out his little area, Dianite stared off to the side, his gaze focused on something he paid no mind to.

Tom looked up when he felt the eyes of Mot and his father on him. Upon seeing them staring at him, Mot with that fond look in his eyes and his dad with scrutiny, he righted himself from where he was crouched over the medical supplies. After a good minute Mot’s dad shifted his look to

Dia, who returned his gaze. Meanwhile the halfling shook his head at the man’s actions.

With a slow nod, he commented to the half creeper, “You’ve got some fine partners I'd say.” The god gave him a small smile at the remark, and Tom turned his away to his his embarrassed flush. The human picked himself up off the ground again, muted pops coming from his knees, despite having already gone through this motion before. With a small stretch, he approached the pair standing off to the side, an eerie smile on his face.

Placing a firm hand on each of their shoulders, he warmly stated, “If you hurt my son, you’ll feel pain far greater than one’s mind may comprehend.” His eyes took a dark look for a split second. “I would know.” Releasing the two startled males, he returned to his kinder nature. “I’m sure you boys would love to help Mot catch me up on what’s happened, I wanna know how you all met and got together. It’s always hard to get the third person in without it being awkward.” As he lurched back over to his son, Tom and Dia exchanged a slightly startled look.

Shrugging, the god followed the mortal back towards Mot, while Tom regathered his medical supplies. Lugging them over, he plopped down beside the man, laying out his luggage. “At least let me finish cleaning you up, mate.” He nodded towards the uncovered injuries. “Since you think my nursing skills are shit, I bet you’d rather Mot help you out. Buuuut, you’re still stuck with me.” Said halfling rolled his eyes, gesturing for Dia to start talking while he picked up the cleaner of the rags and Tom retrieved the gauze.

And though they were still holed up in Inertia, they talked until sunset, in which Jordan wandered out, having not found what he was looking for, but ready to leave anyway. It was with glee that the reunited father and son left the complex, not ready to leave one another again.

(AN: So i was gonna have all the meeting the parents on here, but then this decided to be long??? And take a lot of effort??? Cause i want it to be good? What a concept. Anyway, that's part one, so i hope you like it :D Sorry that its , what four days late? Im a major procrastinator, even with things i like…. ill write the other two over the week)

#Chaos Trio #MotxDianitexTom #DianitexMotxTom #TomxDianitexMot #MotxTomxDianite #DianitexTomxMot #TomxMotxDianite #Mianite #idk tags #uncommon ship #more like #rare pairing

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