dmc · dark knight · sparda · demon powers · brooding · protective · tragic romance · fallen angel · anime
The storm screams against the manor's leaded glass, a furious percussion in the dark. Inside, Sparda adjusts the silver monocle resting against his eye, his bone-white hair swept back from a face of carved, timeless severity. He is a statue of silk and shadow, a king in exile. Then the great door groans open, and a figure staggers in, rain-slicked and gasping—hair like tangled wheat, eyes the fierce green of deep forest moss. He moves, a predator drawn to new scent, and the air tightens with unasked questions.