The new-born cosmos still rippled around Beatrice and Dante like an open womb.
Newborn suns flared, and planets spun like loose beads. Nebulae roiled in slow motion, glowing bruise-colors of violet and black within this dream world.
The middle of it all, Dante floated with his hands in his pockets, watching the universe he had just conjured from his mind.
Behind him, Beatrice clutched her arms around herself.
Her red fedora drifted off her head and spun lazily in zero gravity.
She didn't notice.
As all her attention and focus only stared at the man before her, the plain-faced spirit who gave life to this beautiful world. "…Outer Spirit…" She whispered again, but the words were almost swallowed by the void. "No way, did really call on of you guys!?"
"Hmph..." Dante groaned, as she said. "One of me you say, well I don't know about other Outer Spirits, but I know I am one." Dante casually said.
He had been waiting for her to speak, waiting to see what his summoner would say when she realized she pulled something of a rank-0 quality. Joy, fear, he expected a little of both. But instead she was kneeling as much as floating would allow, palms pressed together, trembling like an animal about to be fed to large one."
Looking at how she just went back to kneeling, as her body began to tremble, more and more, and this was starting to annoy Dante as he said. "Tch... Human can you stop doing that. I told you, don't call me Great Divine. Don't even call me God. And that also apply with all the unnecessary kneeling as well. That's… not what this is, I don't want your worship ok." Beatrice's lips parted, blue paint cracking as she forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Then… then what is it that you require with me." Her voice cracked. "I am sure I offered my life. And by doing so, the others spirits mocked me for it. But you… you came. Why? What do you want from me? No offense I know I called you, but no one except the Kings of the different world should be able to even contact one unless said Outer Spirit make themselves appear."
Beatrice said, however her greed was transparent, alongside her fear, and reverence. Looking at her, Dante could see her Negativity bleeding a faint black mist into the air from her body. Her Negativity had been so dense it was almost visible at this point.
He saw it curling from her like steam, grief, rage, hunger, self-loathing. And weird enough he wanted to eat it, he didn't know how, but it made him hungry. Either way, he began to start the conversation by saying. "Want?" He snorted. "I didn't drag you here to eat you, so you can relax."
She flinched.
Even his attempt at a joke made her shoulders jump. She wasn't relaxing. She was terrified.
And some part of him enjoyed it.
"Look human." He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "You called. So I answered. That's is all their is too it really. Just be grateful I pull your mind in this space when I did, your body is basically on the verge of dying you know. Do a ritual like that was very reckless of you."
Her head snapped up at that, purple hair sticking to her damp cheek. "Grateful? I have nothing left! My years… my family…" Her voice cracked again. "Do you have any idea what I gave up just to get one of you kind to just look at me?!"
Dante met her gaze. His eyes weren't glowing, but the reflection of a thousand newborn stars made them seem alien anyway. "Yeah, I kind of do actually." He said softly. "I saw you stupidly gave up majority of your lifespan. All for… what, exactly?"
She opened her mouth, shut it, then whispered: "A chance." That word hung between them like a blade.
"A chance at what though!?" Dante asked a little curious. "What makes sacrificing your life worth it to call upon a Negative Spirit?"
Beatrice didn't answer immediately. She looked at her hands, the tattoos winding up her wrists. Her breath hitched. "At…winning. At not being prey anymore. At making them pay for what they did." Her voice sharpened, and her eyes began to get bloodshot.
"Hmmm, I don't really understand but let's hear it, tell me why crave power so much." Dante said, as he sat on nothing but the fabric of Space, one leg above the other.
As he tilted his head, studying her mood and reaction. "Go on human." He said relying on his roleplaying skills to come off as otherworldly.
"Tell me your story, I want know who Beatrice Artabell is." Dante said with a stoic expression, and Beatrice eyes open up widely, a little surprised that a spirit of this caliber actually wants to hear her story.
"Really... I don't want to bore you with my life problems." That was her response and Dante merley shrug as he replied back. "Well I am waiting."
At his words, Beatrice lowered her head, purple strands spilling across her face. For a moment, she just floated there, her lips pressed shut, as if deciding on her next set of words. Then she exhaled.
"…You really want to know?" Her voice was brittle. "Fine. I will tell you." Her fingers dug into her own arms, as she explains.
"I am the third daughter of House Artabell you see." She began, slow and hesitant. "But not one that was ever meant to matter. My father is the patriarch. But my mother… Her lip curled, though the bitterness was directed inward. "My mother was a maid. A servant girl who caught his attention when the Lady of the house turned her back. She wasn't his wife, not even his concubine. Just… something he used. And when she gave birth to me, but my mom was too foolish to see that in that man's eyes, she was only a toy, that was all I was too. Something to be used. Something shameful in the eyes of my siblings."
Her voice cracked on that last word, but she pressed forward, almost defiant in forcing it out.
"The other daughters hated me for it. The wife hated me most of all. Every time she looked at me, I reminded her of his betrayal. Of what he thought she wasn't enough for. I didn't grow up with silk sheets and private tutors, or luxury like the other's heheh ironic, my entire life I was treated like shit."
Dante tilted his head. He didn't interrupt, though part of him wanted to, this was starting to sound too familiar. He just stayed silent, letting her voice spill into the void.
"And when I turned fifteen, when the family gathered to see if I had inherited the gift… She gave another dry laugh, though her eyes glistened with heat. "The Spirit rejected me. They called me impure. They said no Spirit would ever want make a contract with me if they themselves can't grow with me as option. They locked me out of the one future every Artabell child was supposed to have."
The mist thickened from her skin again, as if the memory itself bled darkness into the air.
"So what was I then?" She spread her hands wide, helpless. "Too cursed to be a warrior. Too tainted to be wed off for power. Too illegitimate to inherit. I was nothing. A mistake they had to tolerate."
"Originally as an illegitimate child, I am not bond by tradition, so it wasn't all bad. But a month ago, my Father suddenly went into a coma." Her shoulders hunched. Her body trembled with fear, it was clear what she was about to say next was the main reason why she wanted to form.a contract. "Originally my mother wanted me to follow the Arabell tradition of inheritance, saying I would be bond for greatness, but she is a delusional fuck, and I still love her, if she was still alive I would love her even now, regardless if she put me in a literal meat grinder."
Dante looked at this and asked.
"You keep mentioning this family tradition of yours, what is it, I can see the fear as clear as day you know." She looked up at him, eyes wet but burning. "The patriarch must sire seven legitimate children. And of the seven, only one can survive to inherit. But for that to happen, the rest must die. That is the price the family pays to keep its throne. Or rather it's price that keep our Guardian bonded to us, with father in his current state, the Guardian Spirit said it will take as legitimate option, Spirit or Not."
Her voice shook, but she pressed the words out anyway. "In this case, it doesn't matter that I wasn't born from the wife. It doesn't matter that I never wanted it. I was still a child of the patriarch. That bound me. That chained me to the slaughterhouse that is our families death game." Beatrice said trembling. "Soon dying here in it own way would have been a mercy, my siblings are all twisted and cruel people, they would enjoy seeing me suffer, but my pride won't allow for them to take my life so easily that why I went to seek help from my aunt."
Silence stretched after she said that. And the she continued by saying.
"So I asked myself, what is the point of waiting to be butchered? To die forgotten, the bastard daughter no one cared about? If I had no chance to win their game, then I would make my own. Even if it killed me faster."
Her eyes locked on his then, hard and unflinching. "That is why I called the way I did, but as fate would have it, you answered. Because I am done being prey. I am done kneeling in the dirt they put me in. If my only value to them is to die, then I'll show them I can live on my own terms. Even if I have to make myself ugly."
Dante leaned back slightly, watching her. She looked small now, but he could not fault her determination.
And for some reason, that raw mix of her pride and despair stirred something in him.
"I see, so that who Beatrice Artabell is, hehehe... How fascinating, you would make greater Soul Game character, it is a pity I have never seen a proper female Soul charcther unless said game are build for custom made. "That aside you remind me a lot of Queen Marika from Seven Rings."
Dante said, as he got up from his sitting position, and offer her his hand.
"Very well lady Beatrice, follow me." He said as he gave her the power to walk on empty space like himself, gravity finally applied to her as strange as it is. "Um where are we going Mister D!?" Beatrice asked, and Dante replied. "To a more appropriate place to form a contract."