Dante was hungry. It was time to feed.

He had wandered for some time now, deep in the fog that covered Makai. With but a thought he could open a pathway that would return him to the Night Fort, but without that thought he would be well and truly lost.

The vampire did direct his thoughts towards that fog, but not to disperse it. He funneled the soul-stuff that it was made of into a single spot. The raw materials for a vessel, not unlike Veneralia’s Pseudo-Demons, but more crude in some respects and more advanced in others.

Both demon lords wanted for livestock, but Dante’s needs were very different from those of the fallen angel.

The doll had the shape of a human but was featureless. It sagged a little where it stood, supported more by Dante’s magic than its own power. Then quite suddenly it shuttered with the first breaths of life. A lost soul entered the vessel and what was featureless soon became featured.

This doll was short, with wide hips and heavy breasts. She had dirty blond hair and the tan skin on someone who spent their days in the sun. Her eyes were colourless, the most notable of many details that had not yet settled about her. More would come with time, but she was complete enough for Dante’s purposes.

He moved close to his creation and she seemed to notice him for the first time. “Who are you?” She spoke with conviction. This was not a soul who faced the unknown with fear.

“My dear…” Dante reached his doll, that part of her brain that drove her base desires, and changed. He found fantasies and his body changed to reflect them. He had to admit that he much preferred the results when feeding from a woman rather than a man. They were often so much more imaginative in their desires. “...I’m whomever I please.”

“Oh.”

It took more effort than he would ever admit for Dante to suppress his sigh at that reaction.

“And where is this, whomever-you-please?”

“A dark and stormy night in the wilderness. Why, you’ve wandered into the fog and become lost." He put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s a good thing that I came by to save you.”

“Oh.”

She showed neither discomfort nor attraction at the contact. Vessels were not supposed to act this way!

“I don’t remember going wandering in the woods. In fact I don’t recall how I got here at all. Just waking up in the fog and then there you were.”

Dante was at his last straw. He would feed. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as filling as his normal meal. It certainly wouldn’t be as rewarding. But he would feed. He took the vessel’s far shoulder in his free hand and looked deeply into her eyes, then with practiced motions dropped his head downwards and bit deeply into her neck.

The act was over quickly and without ceremony he let the body drop to the ground to be reclaimed by the shroud and allow the lost soul’s spirit to recover within it. He turned to go, but quickly whirled around again when he heard movement behind him.

The vessel, his doll, was thrashing on the ground. Her dirty hair became golden ringlets that reached far down her back. Her skin turned pale and her clothing, previously indistinct clothe, became fine embroidered silk. Her breast shrunk to a much more modest size and her face became soft and round and other little changes happened as Makai enabled the lost soul to replace features, remembered and forgotten, with those it might have idealized instead.

Finally the thrashing ended. She put her arms beneath her and climbs to her feet, then looked Dante straight in the eye with a blood-red gaze. She said only one word, which truly left Dante speechless.

“Papa.”