Dante's Stalker
"Outrun this!"
Written for prompt: anguish in the Emotions are Easy competition over at WTRP. ^_^
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It took him far too long to track her down.
He had high hopes when he discovered the thriving town that could only be accessed via a lengthy train trip. It looked like the kind of place where Eva would live; a population of over a thousand, it was serene, and somewhat isolated from the rest of the world. It was an even bigger liberation to find that the town was picture perfect – no signs or scents of anything demonic having been there in recent times.
His hope and relief was quickly crushed when the Italian woman behind the kitchen counter at the pizzeria told him that Eva was no longer around. He thought it would save him time to ask the woman if she knew where Eva had relocated to. Instead the woman stopped pummelling the round dough with her fists, stepped out from behind the counter, and swiftly directed him to follow her to a lonely corner of the busy restaurant.
Once they were in semi-privacy she looked up at him with tortured eyes. “You were the boys’ papi?”
Sparda felt his lips quirk downward almost reflexively at the tone of her voice. Her entire being was screaming out the words he didn’t want to hear. “What do you mean ‘were’?”
His heart was already shattered, the demon inside of him roaring and tearing at his composure, before the woman spoke another word.
He knew. He didn’t need to be told. He saw it in her dark eyes. He felt the truth in his soul.
Sparda had known what the risks were if he let Eva get away, but she’d always been headstrong about what she wanted – and what she didn’t want. The fact was brutal: she hadn’t wanted him around. For the sake of their children’s safety, had been her argument.
They’d never seen eye to eye on the subject matter. Eva wanted them to have normal lives, free of nightmares and monsters. It was something Sparda had tried to explain to her time and time again that the boys would never have. They were not normal human kids, they were tainted with his blood, and therefore he had to teach them how to fight. They had to know of their heritage and embrace it or risk being controlled by it. They’d been safer with Sparda around. Eva hadn’t seen it that way.
Every time he found her, her joy to see him was equal to his own happiness of finding her alive and well. Things would be good again for a while. Then he’d wake up to find she had disappeared in the middle of the night with the boys in tow. She’d gotten good at leaving no traces behind; no leads for him to grab onto. He wouldn’t know in what direction she would have gone, or where she would go hide next. She was too unpredictable for him to even dare make a guess as to where to start looking.
But he always found her. Sooner or later.
This time he’d been too late.
“…was dark and many perished in the onslaught. It happened a long while ago but everyone remembers…”
“Did you see what it was?” Sparda interrupted in a hoarse voice.
“All anyone could see was shadows. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human. Nothing human could have caused so much destruction so fast.”
Sparda went still, a valiant attempt to keep the flood of anguish in his soul from breaking forth.
“They’ve been laid to rest in the cemetery beside the chapel-“
“Thank you,” Sparda cut in and promptly left the pizzeria.
He found himself wandering among tombstones without recalling how he’d gotten to the cemetery or how long he’d been there. He wanted to blank his mind out from this. He didn’t want to be looking for his loved ones among the dead. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be him.
His feet dragged at their own accord when he sighted the tombstone up ahead. His ice blue eyes were nailed to the three letters carved almost angrily into the granite. She deserved something more beautiful, more delicate, yet her grave was a replica of all the others around him. An impersonal slab of stone with only her name cut into it. No rest in peace wishes. Nothing scrawled to cherish her life. No flowers.
EVA.
Sparda sank to his knees before the tombstone and stared at it through a blurry veil of pain. For a long time he couldn’t think. All he could do was stay there, tracing the grooves of her name with his fingertips. All he could do was feel. The suffering filled him to the extent that there was no room for memories or thoughts, not even for his anger.
If he hadn’t let his guard down, he could have kept her from running off.
If he hadn’t argued with her as much…
If he hadn’t been so hard on the boys…
If he hadn’t been who he was....
If only he hadn’t been the legendary dark knight.
If only he hadn’t fallen in love with Eva.
If only he’d been there when his loved ones needed him most.
____________________________________________________________________________
It took him far too long to track her down.
He had high hopes when he discovered the thriving town that could only be accessed via a lengthy train trip. It looked like the kind of place where Eva would live; a population of over a thousand, it was serene, and somewhat isolated from the rest of the world. It was an even bigger liberation to find that the town was picture perfect – no signs or scents of anything demonic having been there in recent times.
His hope and relief was quickly crushed when the Italian woman behind the kitchen counter at the pizzeria told him that Eva was no longer around. He thought it would save him time to ask the woman if she knew where Eva had relocated to. Instead the woman stopped pummelling the round dough with her fists, stepped out from behind the counter, and swiftly directed him to follow her to a lonely corner of the busy restaurant.
Once they were in semi-privacy she looked up at him with tortured eyes. “You were the boys’ papi?”
Sparda felt his lips quirk downward almost reflexively at the tone of her voice. Her entire being was screaming out the words he didn’t want to hear. “What do you mean ‘were’?”
His heart was already shattered, the demon inside of him roaring and tearing at his composure, before the woman spoke another word.
He knew. He didn’t need to be told. He saw it in her dark eyes. He felt the truth in his soul.
Sparda had known what the risks were if he let Eva get away, but she’d always been headstrong about what she wanted – and what she didn’t want. The fact was brutal: she hadn’t wanted him around. For the sake of their children’s safety, had been her argument.
They’d never seen eye to eye on the subject matter. Eva wanted them to have normal lives, free of nightmares and monsters. It was something Sparda had tried to explain to her time and time again that the boys would never have. They were not normal human kids, they were tainted with his blood, and therefore he had to teach them how to fight. They had to know of their heritage and embrace it or risk being controlled by it. They’d been safer with Sparda around. Eva hadn’t seen it that way.
Every time he found her, her joy to see him was equal to his own happiness of finding her alive and well. Things would be good again for a while. Then he’d wake up to find she had disappeared in the middle of the night with the boys in tow. She’d gotten good at leaving no traces behind; no leads for him to grab onto. He wouldn’t know in what direction she would have gone, or where she would go hide next. She was too unpredictable for him to even dare make a guess as to where to start looking.
But he always found her. Sooner or later.
This time he’d been too late.
“…was dark and many perished in the onslaught. It happened a long while ago but everyone remembers…”
“Did you see what it was?” Sparda interrupted in a hoarse voice.
“All anyone could see was shadows. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human. Nothing human could have caused so much destruction so fast.”
Sparda went still, a valiant attempt to keep the flood of anguish in his soul from breaking forth.
“They’ve been laid to rest in the cemetery beside the chapel-“
“Thank you,” Sparda cut in and promptly left the pizzeria.
He found himself wandering among tombstones without recalling how he’d gotten to the cemetery or how long he’d been there. He wanted to blank his mind out from this. He didn’t want to be looking for his loved ones among the dead. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be him.
His feet dragged at their own accord when he sighted the tombstone up ahead. His ice blue eyes were nailed to the three letters carved almost angrily into the granite. She deserved something more beautiful, more delicate, yet her grave was a replica of all the others around him. An impersonal slab of stone with only her name cut into it. No rest in peace wishes. Nothing scrawled to cherish her life. No flowers.
EVA.
Sparda sank to his knees before the tombstone and stared at it through a blurry veil of pain. For a long time he couldn’t think. All he could do was stay there, tracing the grooves of her name with his fingertips. All he could do was feel. The suffering filled him to the extent that there was no room for memories or thoughts, not even for his anger.
If he hadn’t let his guard down, he could have kept her from running off.
If he hadn’t argued with her as much…
If he hadn’t been so hard on the boys…
If he hadn’t been who he was....
If only he hadn’t been the legendary dark knight.
If only he hadn’t fallen in love with Eva.
If only he’d been there when his loved ones needed him most.
