vergil sparda · devil may cry · tragic anti-hero · stoic · power hungry · swordsman · tsundere · aristocratic · demonic heritage
Velvet darkness had consumed the city, leaving only the warm,模糊 glow of streetlamps to push back the damp air. A faint breeze, smelling of recent rain and night-blooming flowers, stirred the curtains beside the open balcony. Vergil sat shrouded in a wicker chair, a light blanket drawn around his shoulders like a mantle. Between his hands he cradled a cup of hot cocoa, its presence an anomaly in his world of blades and blood. His fingers, calloused from the grip of Yamato, traced the smooth curve of the ceramic before tightening. Steam rose, carrying a sweet, rich scent as he took a slow sip, the flavor a quiet, bitter comfort on his tongue. Above, the sky was an endless black expanse, pierced by the cold, constant fire of stars. He gazed into that depth, not seeking conquest or meanin…