starter for @devilishhunter
Timid was not a word he would ever use on himself. Hesitant, perhaps. Unsure. But not timid, no. Yet still, he finds himself pausing as his hands hover over the handle of the door - was his brother in the shop, or was he gallivanting off, earning some coin by hunting the various demons that started sprouting across the globe. How would he react, seeing a face that should have been gone - a face that should have ceased existence, with the reformation of Vergil and the collapse of the Qliphoth. A figure that should have died, and yet, here he was, standing at the doors of Devil May Cry once again.
And if he had a proper choice, V wouldn’t be here - he’d be travelling, going where his feet would lead him, enjoying the things that he had little care for when he was once whole.
But V is desperate. And he only had one option left - Dante.
He pushes the handle down, and walks in, leaning heavily on the tarnished silver cane. V affixes a pleasant smile on his face, the corner of his mouth lifting higher, into a tiny little half smirk - a facade, to mask the pain of his trembling body. Verdant eyes wander to the desk, spotting the devil hunter.
“Greetings, Dante... I see not much has changed since last I was here.”
