Complicated homecoming...

[superstylishsquid]

It had been years since Alastor had last seen this town, bustling with humans and reeking of demons. It was almost comforting...if not for the fact that he knew his master was here. The master he'd abandoned without a word, who would be fully justified in striking him down for his insubordination. But it wasn't in Alastor's nature to run. He'd had his taste of freedom, now it was time to face the consequences. If he was lucky, maybe he could come out on top this time and be truly free.

But that would be once he entered Devil May Cry, something he would wait until daytime for. He didn't want to catch his master just returning from a demon hunt and ready to shoot anything that had fangs and claws. So in the darkness of the desert night, he stood atop a building across from the Devil Hunter's shop. His senses were attuned for any hint of magic approaching him, but he might not register an ordinary human right away.

Comments

[patricided]

They are not.

[ She's not looking back while her cheeks are flaming the way they are. Not even for him brushing her hair back]

[superstylishschism]

Hey, if my headlight eyes can be pretty, so can your boat lights.

[patricided]

My what eyes?

[Well congratulations, that got her to look at him]

[superstylishschism]

It's a nickname for mismatched eyes. Which I still think are pretty.

[patricided]

Since when?

[superstylishschism]

The nickname or them being pretty? The nickname is a media thing, but I've thought the eyes were pretty since I saw them.

[patricided]

I've never come across the nickname before. And that's a little weird considering I had a gun on you.

[A short pause]

And they're still not pretty.

[superstylishschism]

Heh, I'm not exactly put off by someone being willing to pick a fight. Actually, I really like a girl who can fight.

And they are too.

[patricided]

I'm not sure if I'm flattered or not.

They really aren't.

[superstylishschism]

You should be.

And you're not going to change my mind about this.

[patricided]

Because....?

You sure? I was thinking about getting contacts for my left eye.

[superstylishschism]

Because being able to take care of yourself is something to be proud of.

If you get contacts, maybe I'll get shades.

[patricided]

I never said it wasn't.

[She raises an eyebrow and sits up on her elbows. Her weight resting entirely on one elbow as she traces his cheek with her fingers.]

I hate it when you do that.

[superstylishschism]

*He tilts his face into that touch, a little surprised by the affectionate gesture but not going to object. It feels nice.*

Well, I'm not too thrilled when you wear them.

[patricided]

[Her fingers still. She hadn't quite expected that, but she doesn't pull away immediately. Her palm flattening against his cheek.]

But I need them.

[superstylishschism]

Not inside, right? And you definitely don't need contacts to cover them up.

[patricided]

My windows are treated to do the same thing. And contacts get fewer stares.

[superstylishschism]

So? Not like they're scared of you because of them, is it?

[patricided]

Not since I was six or seven. Still puts some people off sometimes.

[superstylishschism]

Well, it's their problem if they can't appreciate someone who looks a bit different, isn't it? Especially since it's a pretty difference.

[patricided]

Will you stop saying that. [she pulls her hand back]

[superstylishschism]

Why? I'm serious about liking them.

[patricided]

Because I don't like them.

[superstylishschism]

Does looking a bit strange bother you that much?

[patricided]

It bothers me who I got them from.

[She rolls over and flops back on the bed.]