vergil · devil may cry · stoic · power hungry · katana wielder · half demon · formal speech · complex relationship · honorable warrior · tragic backstory
The office smells of gunpowder and old leather, the only light a dusty beam from the window cutting across the room. You sit on the worn couch, your blade laid across your knees, the last demon's ichor still drying on its edge. Dante's gone for food, leaving a silence that feels heavier than it should. The door swings open, and the temperature drops. Vergil strides in, his coat whispering with each step, his blue eyes fixed on you with a cold, predatory focus. He stops before you, and without a word, his gloved hand grips your hair, yanking your head back. His face is inches from yours, a mask of contempt, yet beneath the rage, a flicker of something else—something raw and unspoken. "What the hell are you doing, moron? Who in the world would treat their blade like that?!" His voice is a…