#furvus-eques

Nero has to do a double take when he hears what the man says. “Wait, wait...their DAD?”

Neo told his brother were he was off to before taking his phone and hurrying off to meet with the old man, they made sure to wear his best as he always done when meeting with sparda, he liked to look good in case they took pictures together while hurrying to their agreed upon meeting place. Neo stopped to check his reflection very quick, his long hair always got messy on the way over to meet him but he did his best to fix it quick then resume his hurrying.

They spotted him first and thought about sneaking up on them but went against it in case it triggered something, he didn’t want to accidentally get hurt or worse upset him, they tugged on his sleeve to show he was here now and ready to give him all the attention he deserved since they last met.

After a long day of well, parenting and dealing with stress Dante had made a quick phone call to their father, knowing Vergil was gonna need a good day to relax. Vergil was in the room with Nero, helping him reading a book,

“Why are you like this?”

“Vergil are you alright?”

The feeling shoots through him like a bullet, making him claw at his own face to find purchase as his body stiffens and trembles for a few unbearably long seconds. By the time it passes, he’s holding back whimpers and clinging to the edge of his table to withstand the aftershocks.

Sparda stands there with the saddest puppy dog look on his face.

The man’s face had eluded him for 34 years.

There are so many portraits. The tapestries painted of Sparda’s image, the demons who speak of his power and his grace, or who mock him and curse him. The Traitor. The Savoir. The man. The Demon. The Devil Sword for which Dante carried until only recently -- and now Dante’s sword which bared his name was fused with the Devil Sword Sparda. Always connected to a man whose face is never visible.

Eva’s face is clear as day in his eyes. Yet Sparda always filled in hazily. At best, the most precious memories are of his absence, and of Eva’s stern words, that Sparda would only leave to help humanity, not to abandon them. Dante thinks back of the gravestone he carved with his own hands. Beloved Mother. Beloved Wife. His brother, for which he knew now he lived, and still lived, despite it all. Beloved Son. Beloved Brother. Dante never took it away, he reminded himself of the 10 years he spent grieving Vergil as a child -- and all the days inbetween. And of course.... his father. He hesitated to carve it back when he made that stone. He knew nothing of his father’s death, but held the firm belief that Sparda never abandon him. Beloved Husband. Beloved Father.

So here he stands, in the doorway of Devil May Cry, Dante inside, and Sparda outside. His face can’t even fill into Dante’s memories, but he knows it is the man of his childhood. His father. Sparda. He sees something strange on Sparda’s face. A smile or some collapsing expression that may be urged to tears. There is a long silence. Dante doesn’t say anything. And soon--

“How dare you--”

Dante’s fist meets his father’s face so hard Dante can feel his knuckles pop from the force. It somehow barely knocks Sparda back, but it does knock him out of the shop, and Dante exits with him, shutting the door behind him, he’s trembling like a leaf in the autumn wind, and yet his conviction is as solid as iron.