Georges Prosper Remi!

The count of St Germaine.

Turin shroud...

I'm swallowing poison; but maybe I want to.

You only have one life. Spend it happily.

ARGH.

Can't believe I'm using some kind of mediocre blog to vent but meh. I cannot be bothered with people. I've explained this before, I despise almost 99.9% of the population of the entire EARTH, am a diagnosed borderline sociopath with an addictive personality, and yet people still insist on getting on my nerves. And I refuse to have some kind of fascile argument with them over facebook. Or maintain the facade that I give a damn what they think of me. You're all sexist pigs, and when I visit my best friend's house, I'm going to flambee your foreskins for breakfast and eat them with EGGS.

Fin.

It began

It all began

It begins

With a man

With a guy

Called

Named

Christened

Lucy

...and ends, too

Well. That hurt.

Inferno

I smell a fic layout :) rather like the idea of adapting the Eurydice mythology template to the circles of Hell according to Dante's Inferno...

...ignoring the ACTUAL inferno, outside. Saw a DMC fanart of this and thought, awesome though the image of teh boys adopting this pose, uhm...Dante and Vergil are actually the guys in the BACK. With the medieval cap and wreath. Uhhhhm. Oop. Incidentally, this is the circle of sodomy, roight? D and V ARE technically hugging, though. Tis summat.

DMC Dialogue

Succubus, Incubus, Metamorphis...

~~~

My son is crying, and I am glad.

I suppose that might make me a bitch-poor excuse for a Mother. And I am only a slightly abnormal Mother. My children, however, are another matter. I suppose every Mother wants their child to be special. It’s not arrogance when I say mine are; nor would I have them any other way. They’re not, to me, what others call them. Monsters. Half-breeds. Spawn. They are simply my sons: Dante, and Vergil. They are what He and I made them to be, and one day, what they make themselves to be.

“Mom...” “Mom!” “Mom, I’m hot...” “It HURTS! NggghMOM!”

“Kaninchen.” “Be strong, now.”

“Don’t.” “Matier. One of my sons is bleating for me like a dying lamb and the other will tear my throat out if I go to help him.” “So do NOT” “Tell me to be strong.”

“There is nothing you could do to help him.”

“I am his MOTHER, for God’s sake!”

“And their Father is a Demon.” “Will you help him as you did Vergil?”

“You are a cruel old bitch.”

“Yes, Kaninchen. Now come.” “You knew this would be hard.” “They’re devils.”

“Devils never cry.”

Later, I will tell the boys that a coyote crept into the house.

(dante o n nest of blood and bones and feathers, being herded back in

“You should be proud of him.” “Protecting the nest, nurturing, feeding up the hatchling- these are all the duties of the-“

“Mother.”

“No, the Father.” “The life of a young demon hatchling is one of white, not black, widows.”

“Speak sense, Matier.”

“The Mother bears the children. But you know better than any, Kaninchen, that to bear a Demon child demands the sacrifice of what they reap: life. So it must be, for every Demon hatchling to be born a murderer.”

“But I didn’t die, I-“ “He saved me, and then the bastard-“

“If the Mother should survive.” “It is in the nature of the Father to do what his offspring could not.”

“Fool.” “Pompous, ashamed old FOOL. Why didn’t he just tell me?!”

“He did not tell you a lot of things.”

“Such as?”

“No, I don’ wannit.” “I said I don’t WANNIT! It’s gross!”

(growwwwl)

“Matier? What didn’t He tell me?”

“If he does not start eating soon, he will not survive.”

“Dante.” “Dante, darling, listen to me-“

“Mom-!”

“Shhh, darling, please, and listen.” “You must trust your brother, alright? Do you understand?”

“Mom. IT. HURTS!!!”

“I know.” “I know, baby, it hurts for me too. But listen to your brother.”

“I can’t understand what he’s- AGGGGckk! Saying!” “He’s just making retarded- aaaAAAAH!”

“He will. Soon.” “What are you doing? Eva?”

“I have to see. If I can’t-“

“Vergil will kill you.” “It won’t matter that you are his Mother. If he thinks you’re threatening his brother, his twin, his brethren blood hatchling- he will not hesitate to kill you.”

“Yes he will.” “He’s still half mine yet, damn everything. VERGIL!”

(stops at locket, cowers)

“Stop.” “And listen to me.” “I know you’re scared, baby.” “I know you’ve been scared for a very long time. I know you’ve been confused. I know I-“ “I know I’ve lied to you. And I’m sorry. “

“Your Mother is proud of you, Vergil.” “You’ve taken on the role of Father . Father proud. Mother proud.”

“Liarrrrr.”

-eat lots of meat

-viking angel

-transform

-keening sounds, square off, uh-oh matier, dante collapses, clicks and rattles, licking face, curl up

“Perhaps I was wrong.”

“Can I have that in writing, old bat?”

“Silly little Alice.” “You hate Him for leaving.”

(say nothing)

“He did not tell you about the birth. He did not tell you about the intolerable, delicious primal urge he had, despite all his love, to kill you. Because he is a Demon and that is how Demon’s are.”

“But he didn’t.” “A good fool, then.” “And the...other thing?”

(vergil’s beady eye opens)

“Every Demon is born as a twin.”

“He never mentioned he had a-“ “That is, I never met his.”

“No. You would not have done.”

“Matier?”

“To have another half of oneself is a powerful thing. A companion to constantly push you to better yourself, a second pair of eyes to watch your back, a second pair of hands to steady your falls. As hatchlings, it is a useful tool for survival. It is not, however, intended to be nurturing.” “Demonkind are disciples of Darwin. They hold strength above all else.” “In their world, might controls everything. Without it, they cannot conquer anything. Not even themselves.” “And so that is what they must do. To complete the journey from hatchling, to King.”

“What are you saying?”

“In what we may loosely call childhood, a hatchling’s every instinct is to preserve, protect, and serve beside it’s other. But upon the awakening, upon, shall we call it, the period of puberty-“ “They shall be overcome by another, more terrible instinct. To fight. And fight. And fight. And fight.” “Until one of them cannot fight anymore.” “Is overcome.” “And consumed.”

“No.” “No.”

“Sparda knew this.”

“No. You’re wrong.”

“But you wanted a child.”

“No. Stop.”

“He desperately craved one, also. But that was the heart of the matter. He craved one. Just one.”

“You’re forgetting one thing.” “My sons are not devils. They are also mine. Mine!” “They’re human, too. I’ve seen it. Dante-“

“Ah yes, Dante.” “The little baby, the carefree rambunctious gnat, who bites and fights and brawls as easily as he laughs and cries and teeths.” “And Vergil?”

“Maybe Vergil doesn’t cry with his eyes.” “But he cries with his heart more than Dante...” happy, if not simple “Could ever-“ “I put more trust in Vergil than any under the Sun.”

“Then you had better hope he does not choose to walk in darkness.” “Eva.”

“I have faith.”

“In yourself? Not enough, kaninchen.”

“In them.” “In them, together.”

~~~

Kaninchen or Lapin?

Vergil overheard, or mis-overheard?

~~~

“Mother. I want meat.”

“Beef is on Wednesday, my darling. You know that.”

“I want meat NOW.”

“It’ll have to wait. Not yet, do you hear me? NO.”

“Beef is stupid. –I- don’t want any meat, Mom, animals are stupid.”

“It is you who’s stupid, idiot.”

“HEY-“

“Boys, enough-“

“-OUCH! Mom, he bit me! Eeeeew, don’t chew it, you freak!”

“Vergil.” “Spit that out.” “NOW!”

“That really, REALLY hurt!”

“Vergil, apologise.” “Vergil!”

“Verge?” “What the hell was that about?!”

~~~

“I can’t understand what you’re saying, retard, cut it out!” “Quit hissing at me!” “Vergil, quit it! Get awa-“ “Are you sniffing me?”

“Hhhh-cck-“

“Huh?”

“Hurrrr-mnnn-“

“Uhm, did you hit your head or something? MOM-“ “OUCH! That really HURTS you FUCKER-“

“Filthy...hurrr...man ate...brethren...”

“Vergil?” “Are those feathers-“ “Get off. Lemme go.” “MOM!! MOM, VERGIL KILLED A-“

~~~

(blinded)

“What the Hell Verge, the, you, you nearly KILLED-“ (anger) “You asshole what the SHIT-“

“Dante. Be quiet.”

“But-“

“Quiet. Silent, darling, please.”

(didn’t tell off for bad words) “He can still smell us, Mom.” “Why are you scared? You’re never scared. You can’t be scared, it’s Vergil.”

“I’m not scared of him, baby. I’m scared...for him.”

“I think I’m scared, too.” “Why did he kill the chickens? Why is there...that stuff, everywhere?” “Mom?”

“Dante. When I say, run downstairs, and call Matier.”

“But-“

(click)

“Okay. What about you?”

“He wasn’t trying to-“ “I think he’s scared as well.”

“Yes, baby. He is.”

~~~

“I’m not afraid of you.” “I’m not afraid of you! Give me back my brother you shithead! I haven’t been eaten, Verge, YOU have!”

“You arrrrr...brrethrrenn?”

“Huh?” “Yeah I’m your brother you DICK.”

“Prrrove.”

“Whaddya mean pr-“ “Oh, I dunno, how about we look exactly the SAME?” “Well not so much now, cause now you really don’t look so pretty. Then again I always had the looks.”

“You...smell...humannn...”

“Uh, duh, we –are- human?”

“NO!” “No, liessss, lies!”

“Why’d you hurt Mom? I hated it, I hate you for it, why’d you do it?”

“Sssshe...filtth humann...liess!”

“STOP TALKING LIKE THAT!”

~~~

(bed of bones)

“Eat.”

“Not hungry.”

“EAT.”

“No!”

“Then you’ll die. Weak, pathetic, hu-“

“Don’t. Say. It.” “I don’t like it here. It smells.”

“You reek.” “We are safe here.”

“Safe from what?”

~~~

New concept: Eurydice- Dante finds out it was humans, not demons, who murdered their Mother. Hasn’t resurrected or searched for a way to resurrect Vergil before because he’s pretty convinced Vergil would a) just try to takeover the world again and b) treat him like shit soooo. Resurrects Vergil (gathers pieces of soul?) and makes deal with (Astaroth? Which Demon? Crowley?) in exchange. Hellhounds. Because half breed, human soul dragged to Hell, Demonic autopilot left with empty vessel.

At least I've still got my bones. And my blood rushing through my veins, although I think rushing is a ridiculous word for it. Perhaps skulking. Why skulking? Because it sounds vaguely like skull, I suppose. Word play is just playtime with mediums, with spectres and magicians in the dull luminescent quiet before dawn. Scent can drive you crazy.

I am alive and she sits cold. Rest in peace.

Fic: AC, Dolce Vita, 1, DIALOGUE

It is a good life we lead, brother.

The best. May it never change.

And may it never change us.

~Ezio &Federico Auditore da Firenze

~La Dolce Vita~

1

CROISSANTS

“SEAN!!”

“Fucking HELL Miles!” “Where’s the bloody fire?! And do you WANT the Templars to turn up at 10 for tea because, shit, they can probably bloody HEAR you all the way from their fortress of Mild Totalitarian Evil in Hawaii or wherever.”

“You are a very weird man.”

“No, just British.”

“Whatever, I don’t have time for your- UGH. I was going through some of Ezio’s old memories- y’know, the burial files-”

“Auditore AGAIN?” “You queer for him or something? Fancy some mature Italian sausage? Because I’m pretty sure our little Super Ezio 64 is getting on a bit by now.”

“Huh?”

“Nintendo joke? Mario games? Italian plumber? Gay for his brother? No? Jesus, didn’t they have video gaming in your little we-like-to-jump-out-of-random-inanimate-objects-and-stab-people-in-their-ears enclave?”

“You know I don’t like talking about that.” “And for your information, assassins are Playstation people. Better graphics for, y’know, Prince of Persia and stuff.”

“Ah. Pissing about on ancient rooftops and periodically faceplanting into walls of spiky doom. Bet they can relate.”

I’ve been considering setting up a rival company to those French Ubisoft twats. I think I’ll call it ‘Webehard.’ Geddit?! Youbesoft, Ubisoft, Webe- ugh, forget it. Philistines.

“Uh-huh.” “Wait, you’ve DISTRACTED me again!”

“Mm. And I haven’t even waved my cock at you yet.”

“ARRRGH!”

“Did you WANT something? And if it isn’t sex then piss off, I’m working.”

“Surfing Wikipedia is work?!”

“IT’S VALID SOURCE MATERIAL!”

“It is NOT- look, forget that, and shut-up, just for one freaking minute, ok?” “Right. Ok. As I was saying, I was going through some of Ezio’s old memories, and I found...” “well I thought I misheard at first, because it’s just...” “Impossible.”

“I like impossible.” “Show me what you’ve got, Miles.”

“This is impossible.”

“I know.”

“No, it’s ACTUALLY impossible! This isn’t a record you can just TAMPER with, memories are memories, history is history! He can’t- there’s just no way. Even if somebody, I don’t know, your long lost evil TWIN ever accessed- what’s his name...?”

“Federico.”

“Frederico, whatever. Even if somebody accessed and buggered up his memories, these stiffs are DEAD. In the past. We’re in the future. We see them. They can’t see us. We don’t CHANGE anything, we can’t.”

“Then how do you explain that?”

“I don’t know.” “Animus malfunction, maybe. The eagle vision, fine, ok, he was an assassin prodigy or some crap, but- the-”

“Impossible.”

“Yeah.”

“We could-”

“No, we couldn’t.” “I know what you’re thinking, and no.” “We just don’t pick any ascendant at random, Desmond. We play safe. Pick the relatives of the closest genetic match.”

“Federico was Ezio’s brother! His DNA can’t be that different.”

“Perhaps not.” “But it’s not just about that. Look here.” “Here’s you, here’s Altair, he of the personality of a comatose sponge. And here’s Ezio.” “Notice anything?”

“We all look kinda the same.”

“Exactly, would you like a scone?” “No, mine. Anyway. All your nodal points- SORRY, heads, shoulders knees and toes, knees and toes, to you, moron. You fit in their bodies well, it’s not a stretch. You can move them without too much mental strain, like riding in a puppet.”

“...sounds dirty.” “Sorry. I’m listening, honest.”

“Freddyrico was 6 feet tall. You and Ezio are-were- ARE 5”10. He’s more lithe. His stature is all wrong. Especially his legs and torso. You won’t FIT. Your nose would poke out where his chin is. He took after his Papa, all light browns, which is the WRONG side for lineage. The one that didn’t descend from Altair and his harem.”

“...you’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you.”

“Yup.”

“FINE.” “Rock him like a hurricane, you perverted weirdo.” “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” “Buckle up, and get on intoooooo...Big Bro Auditore.”

~Firenze, 1476~

“Oh, I shouldn’t worry about catching the plague, pulcino. I imagine the plague is more concerned that it shall catch YOU!”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you STINK, little brother. And how are the bad humours supposed to take hold when you are already in such bad humour, eh?”

“At least I do not bathe in rose petals, like some effeminate, pretty-boy, smooth-faced-“

“...whose arse was mistaken for Claudia’s at the last masquerade, again?”

“ARGH!”

“What was it Francesco said...? Something about kneading the rosy complexion of your supple cheeks?”

“That was NOT what he- I hate you!”

“I know, baby brother, I know.” “Now get that look off your face lest the wind change, you look like a crone who swallowed a lemon then stepped in horseshit.”

“Where did she get the lemon?”

“Does that really matter?! It’s a METAPHOR.”

“It’s a stupid one.”

“YOU’RE stupid.”

“No, you are!”

“You!”

“YOU!”

“ENOUGH!” “I will NOT have my reputation sullied by you pair of idiotic, bullheaded MISCREANTS!”

“Oh yes, because hitching up one’s skirts and kicking one’s beloved and long-suffering elder brothers into a water trough and concussing them is SO ladylike, Claudia.” “Your stockings are showing.”

“EEK!” “Monstro!”

“HA! I only lost two squares!”

“Eh?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I imagine a little box of squares above my head that empty everytime I get punched in the gut.”

“I think you’ve been punched in the HEAD too many times, brother.”

“This is impossible.”

“Will you shut up and listen?!”

“And when I drink medicine, it glows and then people all get these pretty colourful outlines around them!”

“...what?!”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“SEAN!”

“Mmhm! Arseholes are red, arseholes that aren’t paying attention are yellow, and boring people are white!”

“Federico.” “Have you been smoking opium again?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well don’t!” “Remember Carlos? What if-”

“Your elder brother is not a fool, Ezio.” “I will never leave you. Never.”

“Fag.”

“Gay as the first flowers in Spring, amigo!” “But I generously distribute myself among the fairer sex, also. I would not want to deprive them of a man of true...stature.”

“Fottiti!” “Distribute, eh? So what you’re saying, brother, is that you SPREAD yourself for anyone- OW! BASTARDO!”

“Such language!” “I swoon! Ah, dios!”

“...carogna.”

(settles on Rico without question- glad, like a growing child shies and wriggles away often)

“Rico.”

(nicknames, fiddi, rico, coco, ricci, from babyhood)

“Mmmmmmm?” “Do not think so hard, pulcino, you will hurt your poor pea of a brain.”

“You look tired.”

“Escapades such as mine-”

“You do not HAVE escapades.” “I talked to Adriana.” (goes to roll away) “I hear you and Father talking! I hear you-”

“You hear nothing.”

“Brother-”

“You. Hear. Nothing.”

“I think that’s enough joyriding for now, Miles, your vitals are dipping. Get the piss outta dodge before MUMMY comes back and smacks your bottom.”

~~~

“This is impossible.”

“Maybe not.” “I have an idea.”

“Did it hurt? Aww, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Madonna. Spit it out.”

“What if he touched a piece of Eden?”

“Miles.” “Did the Templars touch YOU in a bad place? Because you’ve gone loopy.”

“No! Look, that...the One Who Came Before, after Ezio killed the Pope-”

“You mean heinously FAILED to kill the Pope.” “I mean seriously. All that effort, all those dead officials, and he can’t even stick a sharp thing in a fat guy? It wasn’t like Borgia was a SMALL target! But noooo he had to play FISTICUFFS with him and punch him to death.” “Plus, your strategy of knocking him on his arse then kicking him repeatedly in the groin, though amusing, didn’t exactly get the job done quickly. Just saying. Fifty million knives and poisons and deadly shit on you, and you decide to kick him in the dick. Do we need to have a talk?”

Still, if he hadn’t been such a ginormous twat there wouldn’t be a third game. Oops, did I just break the fourth wall’s fourth wall? Shocking!

“I. Am. Ignoring. You.” “The One That Came Before mentioned me, my name. To Ezio. In the past. So obviously time and space, it doesn’t apply to them. And the pieces of Eden are like, their magic 8-balls, or something.” “Right?”

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you COULD be onto something, Miles.” “Problem is, how the Hell would Auditore’s airhead brother get his hands on a piece of EDEN?! In case you didn’t notice, his promising career in dickism was cut tragically short.”

“I remember.” “And don’t talk about him like that. He wasn’t- it was an ACT. He was good, he was kind, he-” “What do we know about Frederico?”

“Crud all, really.” “Let’s see. Frederico Auditore da Firenze. He was the eldest, three years older than our main man. Bit of a character, from all your arsing about we know he was smart, smarter than Ezio back then, beat him at chess, quick-witted, blah blah. We reckon he was already being trained to be an assassin- I mean, he was the one who taught lil bro how to free-run like a ninja. And pick up broads.” “He worked in a Medici bank for a while but got laid-off for being a slacker and sticking money on the roof.”

“Aaaaand, as you know, he got it in the neck soon after-” “Yeah.”

“Rodrigo Borgia said...” “there was no reason to kill them. Him or Petruccio. He was just making a POINT.” “A damn POINT! If you-” “they were good people. If ever I need to remember why we’re the good guys, I think of them.”

“Lad.” “You’ve got to stop getting so involved in this.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Point is, no way he touched a piece of Eden. He died. Dead. Kaput. Doornailed. No way around it.” “There’s a reason for this fuck-up, and I’ll find it. Might be the Templar’s shitting us about.”

“How do we know?”

“Excuse me?”

“That he died.”

“Uhhhm...bonjour?” “Ezio BURNED the bodies.”

“He didn’t watch them burn.” “He couldn’t.”

“They weren’t BREATHING!”

“Ezio didn’t check.”

“ARGH! You deluded TWIT. Face it, they DIED! You’re not HIM, stop getting so pent up about it!”

“I HAVE TO KNOW!”

“You can’t stick with him.” “We’ve never tried putting a subject- shit, I sound like them- putting someone through a DEATH in the Animus. Whatever happened, the stresses wouldn’t end in anything good.”

“What if he didn’t die?”

“Sweet Fanny Adams, Miles...” “Like a guppy with a friggin’ bone.” “Fine. You’ve been through it once, I’ve got the memory bank downloaded...” “Wait.” “What-”

“What is it?!”

“Look. Here’s the last memory: the execution.”

“That’s the second last memory.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s that black stuff?”

“I don’t know. It looks like something...corrupted the stream. I don’t...I’ve seen this before. Somewhere. If I can just-”

“Put me back under.”

“Miles-”

“If there’s another memory...” “Federico survived the execution.” “I have to know.”

“You mean Ezio has to know.” “Lad, if...” “If he burned-”

“I have to know.”

“Shit.” “Fine. Alright. Fuck.”

This is BAD, Hastings. This is A-grade crazy. Bonkers. Nuts. Insane. Not like I care if Miles kicks the ol’ bucket, but...shit. Damn the ruggedly-handsome wanker and his stupid puppy eyes. Damn him for being RIGHT.

Because we have to know.

~tbc~

Dolce Vita~ dialogue, EzioxFederico

1

“Oh, I shouldn’t worry about catching the plague, pulcino. I imagine the plague is more concerned that it shall catch YOU!”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you STINK, little brother. And how are the bad humours supposed to take hold when you are already in such bad humour, eh?”

“At least I do not bathe in rose petals, like some effeminate, pretty-boy, smooth-faced-“

“...whose arse was mistaken for Claudia’s at the last masquerade, again?”

“ARGH!”

“What was it Francesco said...? Something about kneading the rosy complexion of your supple cheeks?”

“That was NOT what he- I hate you!”

“I know, baby brother, I know.” “Now get that look off your face lest the wind change, you look like a crone who swallowed a lemon then stepped in horseshit.”

“Where did she get the lemon?”

“Does that really matter?! It’s a METAPHOR.”

“It’s a stupid one.”

“YOU’RE stupid.”

“No, you are!”

“You!”

“YOU!”

“ENOUGH!” “I will NOT have my reputation sullied by you pair of idiotic, bullheaded MISCREANTS!”

“Oh yes, because hitching up one’s skirts and kicking one’s beloved and long-suffering elder brothers into a water trough and concussing them is SO ladylike, Claudia.” “Your stockings are showing.”

“EEK!” “Monstro!”

“HA! I only lost two squares!”

“Eh?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I imagine a little box of squares above my head that empty everytime I get punched in the gut.”

“I think you’ve been punched in the HEAD too many times, brother.”

“And when I drink medicine, it glows and then people all get these pretty colourful outlines around them!”

“...what?!”

“Mmhm! Arseholes are red, arseholes that aren’t paying attention are yellow, and boring people are white!”

“Federico.” “Have you been smoking opium again?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well don’t!” “Remember Carlos? What if-”

“Your elder brother is not a fool, Ezio.” “I will never leave you. Never.”

“Fag.”

“Gay as the first flowers in Spring, amigo!”