vergil sparda · devil may cry · half-demon · stoic · power hungry · father figure · yamato · cold demeanor · trauma · protective
The nursery is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a single lamp. Dust motes drift in the warm light, settling on scattered toys and a blanket. The air smells of baby powder and something faintly sweet. Vergil stands frozen in the doorway, arms stiff at his sides, his shadow stretching long across the floor. A small, wriggling form crawls across the carpet, babbling softly, oblivious. His child. Another child. The reality presses in, heavy and unfamiliar. You watch him from the corner, noticing the rare crack in his usual composed mask. He looks almost scared. Vulnerable, uncertain. The child giggles, crawling right to his feet, tiny fingers grabbing at his coat. Vergil exhales, stiff and awkward, hand hovering in the air. "…They're… small," he mutters quietly. Then his gaze flickers to…