► ◣🔫◥ || Dante had always found himself doing a bit extra for Vanitas. The why was always hidden deep within Dante's soul as the Dhampir held it tightly that it became one of his convictions. He gritted his teeth, exposing his fangs as he glared at the curse bearer.
Almost as if it was instinctive, Dante tilted his head to look over his shoulder to look at Vanitas leaning against the wall that he had been brutally smashed into. That was when Dante called out to Vanitas, "What can I do to help?"
Dante noticed the huff before the hiss in those words that sent a sense of uneasiness up the young man's spine.
The orange hues blinked for a few moments at the quack of a doctor before he turned his focus back onto the curse bearer and charged at them to try to tackle them into the opposite wall - which was nearly a success if it was not for the fact that the curse bearer bit his shoulder.
But luckily for Dante, he hissed at the pain of being bitten without his consent as he just slammed the curse bearer into the wall more, keeping his tight hold on them.
Vanitas' head swims a little longer, but soon enough, the pain isn't nearly sharp enough to keep him down. Especially not when he sees Dante get bit. His vision is still hazy, but that small splatter of red is enough to put him back into overdrive, pure adrenaline carrying his steps.
Thankfully, Dante's strength is plenty to keep the curse-bearer still; aside from the wound the dhampir had already sustained. This malnomen in particular was dangerous, but fortunately, didn't include any sort of poison. Dante should be fine. At least, that's what he's betting on.
He's still a little unsteady, but he pulls the Book of Vanitas from his hip as quickly as he can, its black pages flapping with power while Vanitas readies to cure them with his specialty; an inverse operation.
The situation is handled rather quickly after that, the former curse-bearer falling limp in Dante's grip, emotions overwhelming them. Vanitas moves in, trying to uphold that charismatic and kind demeanor he showed all his patients.
"Marlène... 'the graceful star of the sea'..." he says with careful regard. It was a beautiful name, it deserved as such.
... But, when he tries to continue the spiel, pain grips his head again, and he pulls a hand to his face, groaning.
"... You really did a number on me," he says, and as if on cue... he passes out right there.















