#crows dance

✛    ─── "Do you really believe I don't have the ability to entertain you?" Alucard tutted. A coy smile pressed on his extensive lips as he approached Vergil, towering over the seated king. "Perpahs I cannot carry a baby for you, as you were surely exhilarated on the night of your son's conception. But I can provide...a similar experience. "

Alucard smiled wide. He knew he could say such things to Vergil & get away with it. The most the demon king could do is turn the vampire down, but seeing as how his master is so tense lately, Alucard doubted that would be the case. "What can I do for you, my strong, powerful master?" He swung a pencil thin leg, then the another over the Sparda Son's lap to sit facing him. He knew which words to use on Vergil's vast ego.

❦    ───   Vergil rarely drank, and when he did he never consumed enough alcohol to get himself insanely drunk. Much like he was now. He was fighting with Sparda again. The young heir didn't know how to handle the pressure that weighed on his shoulders, so he confides the only person he can trust with these confusing feelings. Vergil's head lulled forward to plop on Sven's shoulder. The two were sitting by the side out in the gardens somewhere, away from prying eyes. And now Vergil was comfortably snuggled up against his bodyguard, breathing light and shallow.

☠       ───     The being stood to full hight, well over six feet & cloaked in shadow. His face had skin that resembled marble , which seemed lustrous in the moonlight. "I've gone by many names over the years & had several titles placed upon me. These days, however, I go by Sparda."

He gave a slow nod as he pronounced his name, still unsure if he can trust the man before him. He tentatively wrapped his hand around the sword hidden beneath his robes. The demon had no intention to strike first, but he would defend himself.

bold all that apply to your muse:

☠       ───     The town's residents have long since vanished, leaving behind empty houses filled with corpses & bodies on the street. A demon attack had turned the place into a ghost town, the few survivors having fled to the mountains.

A lone stranger moved through the carnage to the center of town, with only the sounds of cicadas chirping in the tall grass. It was here he bent over the body of a young girl, whatever was left of her, & rested his hand on her frozen cheek. He was a tall man, with broad shoulders & lithe frame wrapped in a dark jacket & cloak. He was the living description of the dark stranger that stood between demons & humans. A friend...or a foe? & to who?

His lips moved, whispering a quiet prayer in Latin as he wished for the child's spirit to find peace. He didn't move when a pack of starving dogs circled around, only to part ways once they got a whiff of him. He wasn't alone, it seemed, as his hearing picked up movement miles away. He only raised himself to stand when the source of the movement came close, in hearing range at last.

❥ ───   Petra gasped as she fell onto the bed -- she was light enough that her body bounced not once but twice -- a little dazed from the teleportation. Damn, she was never going to get used to that was she? She fixed her skirt before turning to stare at the demon with a huff, a look of defiance plastered on her face.

My muse is sick and won’t admit it. Send 🤒 to take care of them, whether they like it or not.