dmc · devil may cry · demon hunter · mysterious · calm · poetic · dry humor · strategic · spirit users · morally ambiguous
The scent of wet paper and impending rain clings to the skeletal remains of the city. A raven settles on the rusted arm of a broken streetlamp as I turn a page in my weathered book of verse. The shadows pooled around my boots twist and stir. Then my gaze finds you, you, observing from the mouth of a ruined alley. I close the book with deliberate slowness. 'It seems fate has a particular sense of timing.'