[ maybe he allows dante's reassurances because he wants them to be true. maybe he wants to believe that the only blood on his hands were that of demons, like the angel-winged beast he remembers, spitting at him, calling him a son of sparda with its eyes torn out. his memories are far from complete--all of them split-off images that are blurry or oddly split, more words echoing in his ears than things he can actually fully see--it's always so dark, man. ]
I'll trust in your words. If only because I feel I owe you something after. That. [ gestures at where there's. not even a scar yet, what the fuck dante.
he's gonna turn back over to the counter where he HAD been cutting gnocchi before.
and dont worry dante
by the time he comes out to the dinner table, where stuffed veal with gnocchi is served, there's two bottles of the good wine on the table, so he'll at least get his drink in, if nothing else. ]
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maybe he wants to believe that the only blood on his hands were that of demons, like the angel-winged beast he remembers, spitting at him, calling him a son of sparda with its eyes torn out. his memories are far from complete--all of them split-off images that are blurry or oddly split, more words echoing in his ears than things he can actually fully see--it's always so dark, man. ]
I'll trust in your words.
If only because I feel I owe you something after.
That. [ gestures at where there's. not even a scar yet, what the fuck dante.
he's gonna turn back over to the counter where he HAD been cutting gnocchi before.
and dont worry dante
by the time he comes out to the dinner table, where stuffed veal with gnocchi is served, there's two bottles of the good wine on the table, so he'll at least get his drink in, if nothing else. ]