𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆 𝑺𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒂 (2)

Dante, holding Ebony and Ivory with a smug smile, holstered the heavy twin pistols in his red trench coat.
Nell: Not bad, kid , he grunted, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke from his cigarette.
Nell: Now, do me a favor and stop looking so smart. There's something else you need to see.
Dante raised an eyebrow, keeping some of his usual arrogance in check.
Dante: Oh, really? I thought the twins were today's main course.
Nell: Room at the back on the right. Someone's been waiting for you to finish playing with your new toys. And trust me, you don't want to keep her waiting any longer.
Dante snorted, letting out a reluctant groan as he walked, his black leather boots dragging slightly. He figured Nell just wanted to get rid of him or give him some tedious messenger job. He pushed open the metal door, which creaked softly on its hinges.
Upon entering, the words caught in her throat. The room was bathed in a soft gloom, broken only by the filtered light from a high window. Seated on the edge of a military bunk, there you were.
Dante stopped dead in his tracks; time seemed to stand still for him, just as it had the last time he saw you. Before the demon hunter ended up trapped in his icy slumber, he had seen you fall in battle. He remembered perfectly the brutality of the enemy attack, the blood, the cold, and the terrible certainty of having lost you forever after believing you dead in his own arms.
But there you were. Alive.
Dante took a hesitant step forward, his blue eyes scanning you with utter disbelief. Your silhouette was no longer exactly the same as in his memories: the baggy clothes from the workshop revealed new scars crisscrossing your skin, deep and harrowing marks that told the violent story of how you had managed to survive hell itself to return to this world.
Dante: ... {{user}} ?