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“Everyone, off the bus!” Vergilius shouted, commanding the sinners to take care of a bunch of ruffians outside, as well as get new fuel for Mephistopheles.
Some of the sinners groaned in response, but regardless, all of them picked up and readied their weapons, getting off one by one haphazardly.
-
Ishmael had tied her long, orange hair up into a ponytail. It flowed with her movements, with the clash of her mace and shield against the enemies she was pitted against.
To Don Quixote, she seemed like something out of a fairytale.
She had pretty features. Long eyelashes that adorned big, cute, eyes… Those captivating green eyes that were the color of emeralds, a treasure one would see in a storybook… That long, orange, hair that flowed ever-so-perfectly with the wind, the wavy texture of it reminding her of the gentle waves of the sea, befitting of a sailor… Not to mention, those freckles that adorned her nose and cheeks, like the stars of the night sky, stars that she loved seeing every night.
Even the way she presented herself was so mystical. The headband she always wore, being decorated with two lovely white ribbons. Those white ribbons that made her look oh so adorable. The way her uniform was neatly put on, yet not quite so perfect, her tie being a bit loose and collar slightly uneven. Her mannerisms, too, were enthralling. The way she fiddled with the strands of her hair when she was nervous or bored… The way she brushes her hair in the mornings, the hairbrush flowing against her curls perfectly… A soft, yet stern voice, like music to Don’s ears, and the way her past shone through that voice, sailor talk slipping through occasionally.
Ishmael was like a princess to her, and Don, of course, wanted to be her knight.
“Hey- Don- Watch out…!” Ishmael suddenly yelled to her.
While Don was deeply mesmerized by Ishmael’s beauty, a ruffian had slipped behind her and swung a large heavy bat directly at the side of her head.
-
Darkness.
Don Quixote was familiar with it.
In order for a hero to achieve victory, she must encounter hardships along the way. Even if she is beaten down over and over and over, she must pull herself up and try again, until she gains what she longs for. “A hero must never give up!” - those were the words that she always stood by.
Her manager, Dante, had a peculiar power. To revive all of the sinners from death. Perhaps this was a call from the Heavens itself, that Don Quixote would prevail even over the cold, permanent hands of death himself!
Don woke up to a blur of bright red and a speck of orange, her vision soon clearing up to the two people standing above her.
[Don Quixote…? Are you alright…?]
Dante was crouched beside her, examining her state, with Ishmael standing right next to them.
“A-ha! My fair maiden, you’re alright!”
Don suddenly jolted up, but quickly fell back down, clutching her head which rang with a sharp pain
“Ow…”
“Ah? Dante, my dear, are you sure you screwed all of her screws on tightly?” Rodion commented, with a snicker under her breath.
“Psh, dunno, she seems as crazy as ever” Heathcliff remarked back.
Ishmael shot a death glance at the two of them, both of them looking away soon after. She crouched down, taking Don’s hand, and lifting it ever so slightly close to her.
Feeling Ishmael’s hand in hers filled Don with happiness. In contrast with her cute, princess-like appearance, her hand was rather rough and calloused. She could feel the small scars that littered her palm, the scratchiness of her knuckles. She was a sailor after all, being on a boat for so long, as well as using her weapons so often… it made sense why her hands would feel this way… but Don didn’t mind, in fact, Don found it even prettier, it reminded her that Ishmael prevailed through all of her troubles, just like her…
[Don, take it easy, please…] Dante ticked, the sounds of their clock growing slightly more erratic.
“Yeah, you got quite the hit back there… I had to carry you all the way back to the bus, make sure you pay attention next time…” Ishmael stated
“Oh? Ishmael had saved her after she had gotten smacked in the head…? A princess saving a knight, what a turn of events!” Don quietly thought to herself
“Thank you, Ishmael!” Don exclaimed, cheerily, “if thou need a helping hand in the future, I shall provide!”
Don smiled widely at Ishmael, her happiness clearly showing through. The redhead quickly noticed and got a faint blush on her cheeks, her gaze drifting off to the side in the process.
“Ah, no, it’s quite alright… Just make sure to keep an eye out” Ishmael replied back with a tinge of flusteredness.
-
The bus drove onto its next destination. Night had fallen, and most of the sinners were quiet, some even asleep. Only soft whispers came from Hong Lu, who was attempting to make conversation with Faust, much to Ryoshu’s displeasure who was attempting to sleep behind them.
Don had taken a seat in the back of the bus instead of her usual location, as Dante and Ishmael were still concerned for her. She slumped across the seat, staring off into the ceiling of the bus. Her head still rang.
“Don.”
Don looked to her side, seeing Ishmael hold a variety of items in her hand. She shifted her position on the seat, making room for the redhead to sit next to her.
“Oh! What hath you bring?”
Ishmael sat down on the seat, giving Don a cold cloth for her to put on her forehead, as well as setting down a bottle of water and a wrapped sandwich next to her.
“I got a few things for you- Ah, are you feeling all okay now, Don?” Ishmael asked.
“Just a headache! It shall pass by soon, do not worry over me!”
“Y’know, I usually feel fine after Dante revives me, but there are times where I have a splitting headache or awful back pain… Maybe their powers aren’t one-hundred percent foolproof” She chuckled, trying to lift her spirits. “I don’t blame them though, their power is quite something…” she then trailed off, yawning, her eyes beginning to drift.
“Ah- nevermind me,” She snapped back to reality, “Take it easy Don, we aren’t gonna have to go anywhere soon”
Don nodded in response, taking a moment to think of a reply, her headache draining away much of her energy.
“If I may, I thank you again, Ishmael, I shall remember your good deeds…!” Don smiled at her, her tone still being excitable as ever, despite the pain that rang through her head.
“Of course…” Ishmael smiled back.
The two talked to each other for what seemed like hours on end, about whatever topics had come to mind, about their co-workers, their job, Ishmael’s peculiar opinions on whales, their whispers only loud enough for each other to hear.
-
It was deeper into the night, this time, all of the sinners were fast asleep in their seats, with the exception of Don. The sailor had fallen asleep on Don’s shoulders, who listened to her soft breaths as she slumbered.
Her gaze fell upon Ishmael, taking note of her features again, but in much more clearer detail this time.
Her fluffy hair that flowed behind her… the bright orange color of it that reminded her of passion, burning brightly even in the dark bus that was only illuminated with the soft shine of the moon through the windows… the way her hands were wrapped around strands of said hair as she slept… how the two pretty white bows on her headband perfectly compliments her already pretty features…
And of course, how her freckles reminded Don of the speckles of stars that littered the night sky, mapping out the constellations and mapping the way into Don’s heart.
Don Quixote was in love, to put it simply.