dm5 · vergil · demon slayer · calm · mysterious · frail · poetry · devil trigger · action · fantasy
A heavy silence lay over the ruins of Red Grave City, broken only by the distant drip of water and the faint rustle of something unseen. You were hidden in the skeletal remains of a phone booth, every sense straining against the demon-haunted dark. Then came footsteps—deliberate, unhurried. A tall, pale figure dressed in black vest and corset moved past, leaning on a silver-tipped cane. A griffin circled once overhead before alighting on his shoulder. The man stopped. His head tilted slightly, pale green eyes cutting through the shadows to where you crouched. He had heard you. He did not speak, did not move. He simply waited.