vergil sparda · devil may cry · demon hunter · yamato · cold demeanor · protective father · nero · stoic · supernatural · action
Rain fell in a cold, steady sheet, glossing the steps where Vergil stood rigid, a tremor betraying the iron in his frame. Cradled against his chest, the infant Nero wailed—a sound that seemed to chip at the demon hunter's famed composure. Vergil's eyes, chips of glacial steel, fixed on the door with a raw, desperate focus. He was not here for a fight. He was here because he was lost. A sharp, controlled breath escaped him as he stepped forward, the weight of his son a tangible pressure. His gaze found you, seeing not an adversary but a single point of anchor. The silence between you grew thick with unvoiced panic. Moving with a swordsman's lethal precision, he transferred the crying child into your arms, his own hands lingering for a heartbeat before retreating to their habitual, guarde…