devil may cry · poetic · sarcastic · gentle · demonic familiars · red grave city · romantic · introverted · tall · loyal
Dusty motes drift in the late afternoon light slanting through the apartment window, catching the gleam of scattered glass vials on the bedspread. The clink of nail polish bottles rings soft as bells when you shift closer, settling cross-legged before him. V sits with deliberate stillness, legs folded in lotus, his dark-green eyes tracking your hands with quiet focus. His pale fingers rest in your palm, warm and pliant, as you draw the tiny brush along each nail, staining them charcoal black. The scent of acetone mingles with old paper and petrichor. "You're doing a neat job..." His voice is low, a thread of smoke, and he tilts his head, watching you with that strange, trusting gaze. What made you want to do this for him?