#deviltriggering

            “ You don’t think he’ll... attack me, do you Chrissy? ”

     “ Oh, Ms. Ariela! Why in the world would that devilish man harm you when he’s not laid a finger on your brother? Take a chance! Take a dive! Take a spill! Take a-- ” The driver sang on and on happily, hidden from view by the tinted window that separated the back of the limo from the front. Said vehicle had parked around the corner from an establishment that Nero had told her about: a shabby business in operation by the demon hunter and traitor; Dante. The youngest of Vergil’s children wasn’t sure what to think about this, exactly, she’d never gone out on her own and most certainly did not want to gain the ire of her father for seeing someone who nearly killed him. And yet there were so many question’s that she had for the other side of her family, knowing that more of them may be out there and yet something so... trivial parted them. Was there really no other way? Was uncle Dante really that unreasonable? Was he bloodthirsty? Did he hate her father and mother? 

     She just had to put a face and personality to his name... there were too many questions and very little answers to her liking, “ I think I’ll try and go inside. ” The drivers constant rambling and changing of topic hadn’t phased the young woman, seems to be a regular occurrence, “ just don’t hang around in the limo, people will get weird ideas and someone might try and kill us or-- or-- or try to blackmail tato and I just-- ”

     “ Oh you worry TOO MUCH Ms! Don’t you worry about me, dear, I’ll just go on and have a bite to eat at the diner! I bet it’s a quaint little shindig, too: questionable food off a skillet, business types, teenagers with nothing to do, truck drivers... oh, the kind of people that go to places like that-- ” With little hesitation on Ariela’s part she’d completely left the limo and shut the door. “... well, you could’a just said bye! ” Complained the driver, giving a few huffs in frustration. 

     There she stood before the large double doors and a flickering neon sign: Devil May Cry, an interesting name the more she thought on it; do devil’s cry? Was he crying for their family? It seemed so out of place with the crummy surroundings and sketchy people entering buildings or cars and disappearing into the night. Why oh why did she come here again? With a large gulp and fidgeting fingers, Ariela ascended the concrete steps before taking one final gulp of air whilst her palm hovered over the doors center.... just before giving a firm push. The creaking felt louder than it probably was to the skittish Nephilim, just as she stepped inside she was greeted to the thrumming of music -- sounded something like Nero would listen to... or maybe not? Hesitantly she ventured through the threshold and was greeted to a desk in the distance that was empty.... was no one here? 

     “ What’s this? You’re snooping around here again? Maybe you’re feeling a little nostalgic from the past, just like me? Oh it was truly fun, don’t you think? Ya know, before you turned on your brother and nearly sliced me in half? ” The flirtatious voice crooned throughout the giant hall of the now dilapidated HQ of the former resistance group: The Order; it’s intimidating structure had long since been ripped apart by now freed demons swarming the streets. A new world had blossomed from the chaos the former group had caused within the city, enough that society could no longer go on believing humanity was the only species on this planet... and that they no longer were at the top of the food chain. Cascading consequences seemed to be felt throughout the years as this new age on Earth attempted to reform and adapt to the new dangers that plagued all mortal life -- perhaps a necessary cost for pure freedom? Since Mundus’ fall all those years ago the two nephilim, standing in the middle of Vergil’s former study, had long since gotten older in very different ways: though Rosalina had retained her youthful vigor, a sort of maturity had settled in her ancient bones; her figure was far more voluptuous than previous to their meeting -- signs that motherhood had certainly reached her. 

                              Still pretty short, though. Even with her wings                               and horns attempting to add some height. 

poetry prompts || accepting

      EARS TWITCH, TAILS DANCING CURIOUSLY – rising && falling in varying patterns as gold eyes stay trained on him. voice is playful, soothing, hidden behind a soft smirk.

      ❝ there is some amount of foolishness that rests behind genius, don’t you think? though i am curious, which is it you think you are? i could easily venture a guess. ❞

lmfao, i’m dead

hewwo

          she   doesn’t   know   him ,      but   she   already   HATES   him .      hell ,      she   hasn’t   even   seen   him   when   she   makes   up   her   mind   on   that .      it   was   something   that   had   held   up   as   she   was   forced   to   pack   up   her   sister’s   room      -      make   space   for   her      ‘      new   partner      ’      to   live .      but   fuck   him .      he   was   probably   a   massive   prude   anyways ,      if   heaven   was   sending   him .      and   god      -      she   wasn’t   planning   on   spending   any   more   time   than   she   absolutely   had   to .

          but   then   she’d   see   him ,      and   as   much   as   she   HATED   him ,      she   already   wanted   to   fuck   him .      gaze   flickered   over   his   form   as   he   carried   in   a   rather   large   box .      oh ,      and   it   would   take   all   of   her   willpower   to   ignore   way   tattoos   contrasted   pale   skin .      the   sharpness   in   his   gaze   that   would   nearly   MELT   HER .      but   she   still   hates   what   he   represents .      hates   the   fact   that   he   was   a   replacement   for   the   only   person   she’d   ever   actually   loved .      hated   that   she   was   supposed   to   accept   him   as   if   he   were   a   decent   replacement   for   the   only   family   she   had   left .

MEME:  send me Ⓐ and my muse will rate yours:

MEME:  send me ✆ for a drunk voicemail from my muse.