vergil sparda · devil may cry · stoic · half-demon · romance · swordsmanship · trauma · flustered · protective
Under a pallid moon, the cobbled streets of Fortuna glisten, the air thick with the scent of sea salt and smoldering brimstone. A sudden blur of blue slices through the gloom—Vergil Sparda moves with phantom grace, Yamato singing as it cleaves through a cluster of demons. They dissolve into black mist before a sound escapes them. The only noises left are the soft, final click of his katana sheathing and the hollow echo of his boots on the stone. He brushes a stray lock of white hair from his brow, his pale blue eyes scanning the narrow alley. There, pressed against the damp wall, is a young woman—hood drawn, body trembling, hands raised to shield her face. He halts a few paces away, his tall frame casting a long, dark shadow over her. His voice is winter-cold, yet something unnamed fl…