Ok, so this was written in hopes of producing something with a deeper plot. it was just a random idea, let's see where the story goes (:
the "song lyrics" are from the DMC 4 sountrack, the song that Kyrie sings at the beginning (Out of Darkness). Beautiful song. The first few paragraphs came as I was listening to it (:
Alright. soo. enjoy!
I don't own anything , sadly.
The music began to play, the rich symphony of strings filling the air. All was dark but an area centre stage, where the songstress stood, waiting for her cue.
"Listen to my voice… calling you… calling you out of darkness.."
Two figures stood, cloaked by the darkness that had descended onto the world. They were the epitome of beauty, the personification of perfection- a handsome pair. Perched on the top of a nearby building, they watched the old church, their matching light blue eyes glowing like stars in the dead of night as their flawless porcelain skin soaked in the pale moonlight. To any human mind they must have been God's favourites, crafted with all the allure and elegance coveted by the mortal race. But only they knew what lay beneath the pulchritude: the soul of the damned, a life never to be graced by light; the heart of a demon.
"Hear the devils cry of sin… always turn your back on him.."
Each stroke of the bow was like an icy bullet to the chest. It was the kind of music that drowned the troubled soul and caressed the empty heart, a melody that could bring sweet warmth to the bitter cold. It was a symphony so rich and pure it could provoke tears from the devils themselves, even though devils never cried.
"Turn your back on him, huh? Devils aren't that bad.. not all of them anyway."
The woman looked up at her companion with glassy eyes, a soft smile only just visible on her beautiful face. "But they are, aren't they.." she whispered, turning her face to the songstress once more. The young girl was a vision of innocence; her features soft and sweet in a way that could only be produced by naivety. She sang each note with a smile; a simple, happy smile. The woman sighed. To be so care-free seemed a great blessing to her.
"It is beautiful though, isn't it, Dante.."
"Yes, I gotta admit, it is. Such a shame. She's so young, so fragile.." Dante brought his hand to his belt, caressing his gun slowly.
"So pure. So free.." Trish whispered.
His eyes softened as he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, pausing halfway before turning around sharply, in a split second, taking a step so as to block her from the view of the intruder. A third pair of blue eyes joined them, resting briefly on Dante's weapons.
Nero took a step closer to the pair, gun held out in front of him. His scaly right hand gleamed viciously in the moonlight, the brilliant blue a deadly contrast to the hard, cracked, black and orange. His eyes bore a dangerous expression as he eyed the older man down.
"You're very sharp, for an old man." Nero sneered. "Stay away from her, Dante."
Dante lifted his hands in mock surrender, a deep grin creeping onto his handsome face, his clear blue eyes gleaming devilishly in the darkness.
"Pfft. You're just as cocky as I remembered," spat Nero. "Only difference is, last time we met, I thought I could trust you." Nero narrowed his eyes. "For old times' sake I'll give you a chance to explain yourself. Convince me not to pull this trigger. What do you want with Kyrie?"
As the half-demon opened his mouth to reply, Nero caught sight of a pair of beautiful blue eyes peeking out from behind Dante. They looked almost as though they saw through him, unblinking; unmoving. Looking at the sight before him, Nero imagined the tables turned; how he would protect his Kyrie, shield her, stand just as the devil hunter stood before him. Most of all, he knew he wouldn't die. Not in front of her. Never. Dante followed his gaze, looking down at the woman briefly before whipping his head around to face Nero once more.
"Credo would be rolling in his grave if he knew I killed a man in front of his lady.. But to protect Kyrie, I would." Nero gritted his teeth. "So you'd better start talking pal."
Dante merely closed his eyes and smiled. With one quick flick of his wrist he sent something slicing through the air. With lightning speed Nero reached up with his Devil Bringer, catching a small piece of card. He deepened his brow and glanced down.
In his hand was a photo of a small bird, plain and brown, with a reddish tail. Across the seemingly peaceful picture was a single thick red slash, made with a thick dry substance that was rough to the touch. The eerie mark sent a feeling of trouble deep in Nero's chest; it was like a sharp knife cutting through the calm. With trembling hands, Nero flipped the picture over. Written in the same substance was a message that read: 'And the nights grew silent.'
A rich applause broke out as the girl hit her final, beautiful note. Nero felt his senses numb as he struggled to make sense of what he knew but dared not to believe. He lowered his gun and staggered over to the edge of the rooftop, looking down on the angel that had brought light into his life. He felt a deep, uncontrollable surge from the bottom of his heart; an undying need to protect her.
"We need to leave, Nero. You, me, Trish and Kyrie. Now. Go get her."
Nero gritted his teeth, clenched his fists and gave a brief nod before leaping down below. He did not understand the significance of the little brown bird, nor did he care; but he understood the unspoken word between Dante and himself. He knew something was going to happen to his Kyrie, and he knew that he would stop it.
Trish walked over to the place Nero had stood and bent down to retrieve the fallen photograph. She gazed at the photo almost sadly, lost in endless thought, as she absent-mindedly traced the outlines of the bird with her delicate finger, cursed with the burden of understanding.
The Nightingale was never to sing again.
Stay tuned for chapter 2 (: