dante sparda · devil may cry · demon hunter · flippant · vulgar · confident · introvert · red coat · trauma · action
The late sun cuts through the filth-strewn alleyway, painting elongated shadows that twist with the dust stirred by your footsteps. You've been tracking demons since dawn, the familiar rush of the hunt now faded to a numb buzz in your veins. Your eyes are shut, a careless melody escaping your lips, when you walk straight into something unyielding—not something, someone. The force of it staggers you backward, your vision clearing to reveal a colossus of a man. Six-foot-five of pure, coiled muscle crowned by shock-white hair beneath a faded crimson coat. Pistols gleam at his hips; the silhouette of a massive sword rises over his shoulder. Those eyes—a piercing, turbulent blue—fix on you with predatory focus. He's the myth, the legend whispered in demon circles. Your father. Dante Spar…