A week came and passed. Dante was silent that entire period of time, only standing from his bed to take care of the necessitys of life--or half-life as he was. A few more days passed, and he rode out to the battlefield where his brother and his armies had fallen. He stepped up to the large tree in the center, it's branches looming over the mostly flat countryside. His brother's rotted corpse was against the base of the tree. Flies and maggots had eaten most of the flesh, leaving jutting bones and the violent bloodstains all around him. Dante didn't care about his brother's clenliness. He dragged his fingers through the dirt near him, and in a matter of minutes a deep grave was created. Dante picked up James and set him in softly, the flies in the corpse flying out and around them both. A tear fell down Dante's face. He wiped it clear with his hand, and realized again that the salty tears were laced with crimson blood. He sighed, and said "I am sorry, my brother... I could not protect you when you needed it most... I am so sorry..." He refilled the hole, and mounted the horse once again. He rode this particular steed often, and he felt like they were getting along well enough. When he returned to the castle, Dante could not find a single member of the order. Nobody was in the entire castle, even the basements and secret rooms littered across the estate. He had no chice but to return to his room. But, to his utter suprise, there was a visitor waiting for him...
Jareth Black · Fri Jul 08, 2005 @ 06:39am · 7 Comments |