Shrugging, Vergil waved his words away. “Harsh, but that is the truth of both worlds. You must either serve someone greater or become strong enough to survive by your own power. The ᙡꗞɌꞆዛԸꗛꕷꕷ cannot become strong, so they must have a master to serve.”

“Wait, what did you call them?” Charles-Phillip asked. He was back to taking notes, despite his frown.

“ᙡꗞɌꞆዛԸꗛꕷꕷ.” Vergil looked at Dante. “How would you translate that?”

Dante winced again, trying to find the right English words for the jumble of emotion and thought-context that came with Abyssal. “I think the closest would be Created Worthless.”

Vergil nodded. “That sounds accurate.”

“That sounds horrible,” Matteo retorted.

“The more literal translation is worse,” Dante told him flatly. Usually, he liked that his pre-programed language came with instinctive context, but this time it left him with a bad taste. “It's more like Worthless/Toy/Slave/Cattle. With… Created overlaying it all? Am I gettin’ that right, Verg?”

“That sounds correct to me, Dante,” Vergil said, and actually smiled for just a second. Dante tried to not be pleased by the praise. It was a shitty thing to be praised for. 

“Created?” prompted Matteo.

“By Mundus. That's why they're safe for you to use,” Vergil explained. “They were created to be useful servants, ones who can physically never grow strong enough to challenge their masters.” He ticked off points on his fingers. “Timid and obedient by nature; quick to heal, but not to regenerate; incapable of wielding magic on their own, but able to work magical devices; fast to grow and just as quick to breed the next generation. Useful, but worth nothing and easily replaceable, hence their name. Worthless."

Excerpt from Chapter 12: "How to make Alliances and Influence the Downfall of your Enemies," by Vergil Alighieri Sparda, (with reactions from Dante Alighierei Sparda) ~more angst below! ⬇~

A little something for Fairshaw Spooktacular 2024!

Title: Poison

Rating: teen and up audiences

Flufftober. Inktober. Wumptober. Kinktober.

As long as the prefix word is only one syllable it sounds good.

Like

What about bombtober?!?! Can I blow stuff up on tumblr dot com is that ok?!

None of the other months work either.

Fluffvember? No. Inkuary? Eh. Wumpcember? No. Kinkril?? Absolutely not.

Damian loathes mistakes. It didn't matter how often Richard said it was okay. Or how many times his father insisted mistakes happen. Perfection is what he strives for. Pennyworth may tell him mistakes are life lessons.

He knew the truth.

He didn't comprehend how people could excuse them. He had learned this lesson years ago. And it wasn't anything as dramatic as mistakes getting you killed though that was true. No, Damian understood mistakes tended to be small but there was always a price to pay.

One mistake could cost you an ally’s trust. One mistake could cost you your entire position, and your reputation. One mistake could destroy hours of careful planning.

The cunning thing about mistakes was the payment isn't always immediate. At some point in time, you will need to pay for it. Some are still paying for it and will never be free of the debt. And that is what Damian hated the most.

Richard could cajole all he wanted but Damian knew. You never know which mistake will cost you everything.

He knew that all too well as he clutched Richard's body closer to him. Damian wondered what he would say now. Would he say that it's alright? That it was just a mistake, we all make them? But Damian knew the truth.