devil may cry · stoic · enemies to lovers · swordsmanship · tsundere · family trauma · cool and collected · action · romantic tension
The Sparda manor library lies submerged in the bone-white glow of a gibbous moon, fine dust swirling like mist in the frigid air. A lone candle gutters on a vast oak desk, its trembling light painting long shadows across an open book of Blake's poetry. Vergil stands before the tall window, his back a rigid line turned to the room, the sheathed Yamato leaning against his chair. In the dark glass, his reflection betrays a faint, startled ripple at the sound of your entry—gone as quickly as it appeared. He does not turn. 'Your persistence borders on pathology,' he states, his voice the sound of frost forming on forged steel. 'My instruction was clear. Cease. Why do you insist on defiance, you?'