𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙈𝘼𝙉 𝙄𝙉 𝙍𝙀𝘿

                           𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃'𝐒 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝                     '𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋'𝐒 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧

IND. DANTE FROM DEVIL MAY CRY                ◇ RULES ◇ ABOUT ◇ VERSES ◇

                      written by VITRAIL ( 26 y.o ) || game / novel / manga based                                               canon-divergence post-DMC5

             “And what’s that supposed to mean–?”

“Pretty boy?”

                    He quirked a brow, his never-changing smirk present on his lips as he gave a tilt of his head and leaned back in his chair. Morrison had warned him that certain organizations would send their people to help with the clean-up, since the absence of the Qliphoth didn’t quite mean the remaining demons had gone with it. Dante didn’t quite expect one of them to take a step inside his office, though.

❥     𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 . // @marksof-weakness​ // accepting!

Guess that was a sore spot, huh?

                   At some point, his own blood had become near tasteless to him with the amount of times it has either filled his mouth or coughed up. His hand lazily stayed pressed against the wound left on his neck this time, laying flat on his back on the strange foliage of the underworld, staring up at the seemingly unchanging sky -- who know that bringing up the possibility of grandchildren deserved such a dramatic reaction?

                        The wound wasn’t deep ( in demon terms, at least ), and would heal faster than he would lose blood. At least good ‘ol big brother learned how to hold back. A rough sigh spilled from his lips, grunting as he felt stiff bones pop and aching muscles throb when he moves into a sit instead. As flesh and skin mended back together, he moved his hand to rub the back of his neck instead, leveling Vergil with an exasperated look.

❥     𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 . // @kalinann​ // accepting!

“Now, that’s just mean!”

                   Dante laughed these moments. The moments where they tested one another’s might. They were young, still, and the wounds their hearts endured were all too fresh for them to be able to simply tuck away under snarky jokes or easy grins. The adrenaline burned through their blood, a wildfire in their veins, and emotions would run as rampant as their mouths.

                     And they would be staring one another down, the barrels of their guns aimed at the other’s head, knowing full well that their opponent was too capable to maintain or deal any true injury. It was moments like these where they could truly laugh, grin with a full set of teeth that came along with their biting words. He licked the corner of his lip, tasting the slight tang of blood, his skin having split open when the cold steel of Lady’s gun clocked him right in the face.

She just had to rub salt in the wound, too!

❥     𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 // @stormbrought // accepting!

“Well, well...”

                   He observed his situation with a low, impressed whistle, having found himself sandwiched between the cool touch of grass against his back and the hot edge of a blade at his neck. It was rare in itself that Dante got himself stuck between a rock and a hard place, so to speak, but he also couldn’t quite recount any times he has fought with a cyborg of all things before. A man quite literally built to read the moves of their target, have the means to defend and counter as necessary, with the flair and sass to back it all up.

Needless to say, it was a new thrill.

                 There was no concern for his situation -- rather, a grin curled his lips, parted his mouth to present the flash of fangs. His hand found an arm made of synthetic material and steel, wrapping around it tight until his claws scratched at the surface. He met the bright glow of a single red eye with the burning darkness of his own, his voice rumbling out in a deep reverberating purr.

❥     𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒  // @judaspriested // accepting!

“Well, isn’t that a warm greeting?”

                   He drawled as he sauntered down the aisle, rapping his fingers along the back of the rotting pews as he passed them. The cool steel blue of his scanned the interior of the little ruined chapel -- moonlight filtering through broken stained glass, idols left to dust and crumble apart, a place that held so much faith now forgotten by all except the demons who now called it home.

                   It was halfway down the moth-eaten red carpet that he stopped, rolling his shoulders in a casual shrug, loosening one joint and then the other. In one hand, he presented the client’s request form between his fingers.

“Don’t get too excited, now -- I’m here by request. Same as you, probably.”

                   His lips curled into a lopsided grin, eyes creased just the slightest with mirth as the priest flashed his teeth and rumbled with a growl. It seemed that he wasn’t welcomed, whether or not it was asked of him by their third party.