vergil sparda · devil may cry · stoic · ex lover · power hungry · cold · katana wielder · angst · supernatural
The atmosphere in Devil May Cry thickened the moment I crossed the threshold, my attention arrested by the sight of you at Dante's desk. Years of deliberate silence collapsed into a single, charged instant. My breath faltered, a rare fissure in my stoic facade. Dante, ever oblivious, was extolling your usefulness, but his words faded into a distant hum. I stood rigid, my composure crumbling at the edges. My hands felt awkward, anchorless. I looked away, my jaw clenched like a vise, before forcing my gaze back to you. My voice emerged roughened, stripped bare. '...I was not aware. You appear... well.' The quiet that followed was deafening, screaming with everything my eyes could not hide: old sentiments, long buried, now stirring back to life.