#stormslayer

It didn’t take him long to track the source of this demonic energy. The smaller island that appeared off the coast of the island proper reminds him of the Yesteryear. Crumbling ruins that very well have may once been a bustling town. But the amphitheatre-like structure at the heart of the island is where he stands, running a clawed palm across the sigils on the ground. An ornate structure, with looming statues of chained humans at the heels of great demons, and an altar in the very middle with a clear slot for a blade.

❝ MY SON, ❞ Sparda booms to the open air, fully aware of the man who has just reached the perimeter of the amphitheatre, who looks down from what would be the topmost seats of any regular stadium. But the grooves in the ground that snake all the way to the altar at Sparda’s feet, stained scarlet with bloodstains... it is clear the audience that would sit in those bleachers were never meant to survive for the show proper. ❝ I NEED NOT TELL YOU WHAT THIS PLACE IS, I TAKE IT. ❞

TO: Vergil ( @stormslayer​ ) FROM: Nero

     usually. 

   this time, she wasn’t expecting to blink into existence with a crack of lightning, only to have some sort of...jacket? coat? tossed onto her like some sort of portable coat rack. quickly she snatches it off, eyeing the coat in her hand. it was blue. long and blue and in a design that only belong to one person. and so, the demon looks up to see Vergil. an eyebrow raises and her fingers clench around the jacket in annoyance.

     “ You know, I bet this would look good in a thrift store.”

When Dante recognizes a familiar figure in the distance, he doesn’t really take too long before approaching the other. His stance is familiar, relaxed for once --- fighting demons together was a nice bonding activity, some sibling bonding time. “Nice to see you’re still goin’ at it, big bro.” His tone is light, almost mocking --- the slight curves of his face curl into a smile.

“And here I was thinkin’ you didn’t like the sun anymore.” He hadn’t seen much of Vergil in the city, maybe he got brought in recently, or maybe Dante just wasn’t up with the times. Somehow, he suspects the later. Dante can’t say he’s been too outgoing lately, often going outside only to train or stock up on food, he can’t really say anything.

Vergil swathed in Eva’s shawl, a hand clamped firm over Dante’s mouth until they both realize that the demon in the building is not one out for their blood. They weep at his legs, and he can’t find the words. It’s all he can do to kneel, hold them in his arms, and stay the rest of his tears for their sakes.

Until another demonic presence catches his attention. Sparda rises to his feet, abruptly, letting loose an involuntary growl-- shaking himself of his sons’ grip, stepping forward to place himself between them and the creature that seeks to finish what they started with Eva.

At once, his gentle, breaking soul turns firm as steel. Sparda calls out, voice oozing with disgust:  ❝ SHOW YOURSELF. YOU HAVE FORFEIT YOUR RIGHT TO A MERCIFUL DEATH. YOU, AND THOSE WHO HAVE COME WITH YOU-- ATTACK MY SONS IF YOU DARE. I HAVE A MESSAGE FOR YOUR MASTER... AND IT IS WRIT IN YOUR BLOOD. ❞

He was up on the balcony when he saw the old man approach; instead of taking the stairs like a normal person, he vaults nonchalantly over the rails, landing on the ground several stories below on both feet with all the nonchalance of a child hopping into a puddle. “Was beginnin’ to think you were gonna be a no-show,” he remarks, listening to Vergil as he takes it upon himself to pick up one of the fireworks, looking it over before he realizes.

Sent to voicemail for whatever reason, he leaves a message. Voice soft, human:  ❝ Vergil... I apologize for calling so late. I simply found myself dwelling on the past, and rather than grieve, I wished to look to the future instead. Know that I love you more than can be expressed within a lifetime; that I am proud of all you have accomplished on your own, difficult and troubling as that path may have been. ❞ 

He pauses, adjusting the phone audibly in his hand.  ❝ To bear the burdens of life alone is an impossible feat... though I have not been there for you when you needed me most, I will be there to the best of my ability. Should you call my name, I will answer in a heartbeat. For you, for Dante, and for Eva, I will move heavens and earth alike if I must. ❞

There is another pause, before he inhales through his nostrils.  ❝ Good night, Vergil. I love you, my son. ❞

               IT’S   a waste of effort. These Grimm have varied widely so far; she lost count after six different types. She can feel her there, just beyond her periphery... Observing, as always. Pulling the strings, as always. Waiting for a single, solitary moment when her guard is down — as always. Raven has yet to see her, of course... But she doesn’t have to. She doesn’t want to.

               She nudges the last Beowulf over with her foot, peering down into its face. She doesn’t need to be looking to cut down the one that lunges at her while her guard’s seemingly down; all it takes is a duck and a slice, one fluid motion. By the time it hits the ground, she’s inspected them both. 

               Crimson eyes. Good. 

               Fight, run, fight, fly. It’s the same rinse and repeat, and Raven’s lost track of how long she’s been playing this game of stalemate. Occasionally she runs into others; occasionally she joins them, although ‘safety in numbers’ can be flimsy at best. It’s jarring, then, to come across a horde of something that isn’t Grimm. Typically the people she finds are alone, or chasing ghosts; she leaves the latter be. But this was unique in that she quite literally ran into the line of fire. 

               Her instincts are what save her; no sooner had she realized there was a monster in her path did someone else’s glowing blades appear to encircle it, and bending backward as she slid out of the path of its outstretched claws had spared her from both. At the very least, it spared her from a steep bill at the mall when this was over. Her shoulders bunch together in agitation as she stands upright again, crimson gaze nearly aflame... But the full picture gives her little choice but to let it slide. After all, not only were there many more of these... things she didn’t recognize... But she hears familiar screeching and howling in the distance. The Witch would have a field day with this. 

           ❛   It seems I’ve brought my problems with me.   ❜   Raven’s met this man before, mostly in passing. It’s clear he’s capable, and that’s all she really cares about. Blades rotate in their chamber, and one coated in glimmering red Dust emerges.  ❛   You can handle a bit of a challenge, can’t you ?   ❜