#devilsworn

[legacyphoenixx]

Penance

A glimpse into Tamriel’s mourning over Alfira.

He’d awoken in the night to her mutilated body. Over her mutilated body. Her blood was on his hands, spilling over and through his fingers like prayer beads, as parts of the bloodstains covering the ground were arranged like a perverted ritual circle. It sickened him that he was not sickened by the sight. His blood sang in his ears instead of roared and pounded, his hands no longer shook with wanting but were instead contented with their subconscious motions. He drank in each breath of bloody flesh-smell like it was the sweetest of perfumes. The gash across his skull and down half his face no longer throbbed.

O Martyred Father… He was a mockery of his own god. The way his heart mourned the blood washed clean from his hands only drove him further. He was glad when they started to shake again, thankful that the ache returned to his head with a vengeance as his vision became clouded. Perhaps it wasn’t too late for things to return to normal. It was late. He was exhausted.

He wanted to lay back down and never get back up again. Not to die, just to lay there in his eternal torment.

The morning was worse.

The looks on his companions faces, the hatred laced in their words… Almost as stinging as the guilt he convinced himself he had, even as he confessed he had been compelled to murder her in his sleep. It was his hands that did it, after all. His sins to atone. The truth might’ve felt freeing to admit, but it wasn’t enough to save him from their anger.

The one he didn’t expect to strike at his heart as much as it did was Wyll. Even following Tamriel’s confession of his underlying bloodlust, the look of betrayal, anger, hurt, determination was… unsettling. Had he truly not believed him until now? Until his inner monstrosity reared its head and bared its fangs to the desecration of all that Ilmater held dear?

As if the monster-slaying Blade of the Frontiers-turned-devilsworn could have been considered trustworthy.

He knelt by the body, still untouched, still so beautifully serene. He retied the bindings around his wrists as tightly as he could stand it and then some. The cuts into his flesh and seeping numbness in his hands would be his suffering to bear. He refused to eat, refused to hardly move.

He felt beside himself, and not from grief. Why was he doing this? Why must he pay penance for such a lovely display? She had been in pain since her teacher had died—no, it had been cruel and unfair for him to have taken her life away like that, even if he could not remember how or why. Beautiful, familiar, but no less evil. Bile began to rise in his throat as he prayed and argued with himself in equal measure; the cords strained further. Tamriel prayed to his deity, for Ilmater to take her soul to his realm where she would feel no more pain or loss, and to Kelemvor, for his judgement to be fair and swift.

Most of all, he prayed for mercy. Mercy, not from his own dark, terrible Urges, but from the ever-watchful eye of the god who would bring wrath down upon those who would cause undue harm and death to the innocent and downtrodden. He had failed him once again. He prayed he would not turn away from him. The Urge was his burden to bear, he swore, the pain of ignoring it for the betterment of others even more so. He will endure it, for as long as it takes to bring it under control.

In Ilmater’s name.

[marksof-weakness]

Character Analysis: Vergil. Part: 1

Let’s start off with a disclaimer:

We must, even with a bated sigh, keep in mind that there are time and monetary restraints in place where DMC5′s release was concerned. We know, and must keep in mind, that DMC5 could have used some more hours of game play to better understand the story. However Capcom’s uncertainty with how V would be received, from a company’s standpoint, is understandable that a great amount of things would be left out for the sake of time and possible rejection of a “new” character. This also goes for how DMC even became to be, as a hodgepodge of another IP - namely Resident Evil - before it became too much of its own thing and bore DMC as a new IP. While that is often how a lot of great media/story is made, it’s important to know that a common pitfall of that is also the possible (and in this case evident) loose ends that were never fully put together properly or explained. With that in mind, let’s proceed-

What we are given as a character for Vergil is what appears to me as textbook ASPD (Anti-social Personality Disorder). And, no, I do not say that as a form of insult. In my Headcanon here I speak about touch aversion. And while it is not necessarily a trait of ASPD, it can indeed become a symptom or byproduct due to environmental details in childhood, adolescence and adulthood respectively. As stated in the HC, being a slave under Mundus and consequently becoming adverse to touch and authority being held over him, Vergil began to fully throw himself down the path introduced by trauma.

We see from an early age that Vergil is depicted as someone with early signs of a personality disorder, compounding this into the sudden and lacking parental figure of their father going missing - presumed dead - foils both the would-be proper training of two parents that can properly split their time and energy for each child’s specific needs. So we have an overworked, over-stressed mother coping not only with the loss of her mate, but two demanding children with wildly different requirements. While we can understand a child’s lacking knowledge, and even sympathize with a child’s view point in that lack of knowledge and henceforth understanding (because of the undeveloped brain and inexperience with life), it is important to remember, as people often forget, that children are developing people. Condoning, or not condoning, has direct affects. So we see a small example of this, and this resulting aggression/irritation from Vergil when his expectation/want is not immediately met here:

Even going so far as to glower at a respected elder, someone with whom had a place he sought for refuge from his irritation/quarreling with Dante.

This self serving attitude can be easily shrugged off as general childhood selfishness, but I do not believe this is the case. Rather than consciously making the rational choice (as we do know that children base their ideas off of their own forming rationality) we see him continue into this path of self centered ideology when the tragedy of the demon attack struck. I also have a HC here that goes into the imposed responsibility as “the eldest” that could have also influenced this withdrawing behavior.

We know through decades of psychological and scientific study that ASPD can be caused and influenced by a great number of things, and one of those has to do with trauma. While being stunned into adrenaline is a thing, what doesn’t sit well with me is the very blatant switch that seems to happen here where Vergil goes from: “Why are there demons!?” “I have to warn them!” “Mama and Dante are home!” to this:

While we are not shown that Vergil entered the house, we must assume he did because in a flash back from V, we see V sobbing over the memory of seeing his mother’s corpse on the floor, with Dante no where in sight. Presumably dead (somewhere else).

This is precisely the trauma needed for someone to fall further into anti-social personality disorder/have the disorder triggered:

(Perceived) Abandonment, in believing that Eva took too much of Dante’s side as well as feelings of abandonment from losing their father. 

An unstable household (though no true fault of bad parenting, only insufficient attention).

Too much responsibility for a child (”Vergil, you’re the oldest”, ergo, implying that no matter what, it was his responsibility to handle Dante).

Trauma and especially physical trauma to the head

Abuse (inflicted by Mundus specifically and solely) 

A few applicable symptoms in his adulthood include:

Disregard for right and wrong

Persistent lying or deceit to exploit others

Arrogance, a sense of superiority and being extremely opinionated

Recurring problems with the law, including criminal behavior

Repeatedly violating the rights of others through intimidation and dishonesty

Impulsiveness or failure to plan ahead

Hostility, significant irritability, agitation, aggression or violence

Lack of empathy for others and lack of remorse about harming others

Unnecessary risk-taking or dangerous behavior with no regard for the safety of self or others

Failure to consider the negative consequences of behavior or learn from them

Which finally brings us to the greater point: actions of a killer

While we do not know yet fully how they lived in their teens, we know that Capcom retconned Gilver to not be Vergil as he is in the novels, but rather a practice clone of what would become of the real Vergil: Nelo Angelo. I see two feasible outcomes to this:

First, if we go by the novels, that means that Vergil was steadily on the edge of mass genocide for the sake of unleashing his own true potential, showcasing in full his carelessness for the sake of others (humanity). 

Second, if we go by the retcon, then we could see where this happening could put a taste of it in the real Vergil’s mouth. A, “I can do it better”, and thereby falling under Mundus’ gradual-played ploy all along, incurring the accounts of DMC3 because it would be feeding directly into the ASPD mentality of generally being self centered and working for the benefit of himself solely. 

A very important note is actually one of two key things: the Yamato, and his Beowulf. Of course we know how he reattained the Yamato, but allow me to remind you how he attained his Beowuld in DMC3. One of the gatekeepers of Temen-ni-gru, Beowulf, or Lightbeast, was half dead and barely moving when Vergil happened upon him. Finishing the beast off, and attaining the Devil Arm Beowulf, Vergil proceeded to kick and beat the corpse of the beast to “test” out his new weaponry. Torturing animals, dead or alive, is a sign of a serial killer, a sociopath. And let us not forget that one of his taunts in DMC5 is to summon Yamato and shift the sword into Nero’s Devil Bringer, flaunting like a trophy that nothing else matters but his own end goal. And that leads us into theorizing how Nero came to be at all...

One of the acts of misconduct due to ASPD has to do with promiscuity, especially in teens. While I personally do not adhere to it, it is perfectly understandable that, on this path, that Vergil spent some weeks in Fortuna, researching his father and knocked up a woman for his own pleasure and interest, regardless of the outcome (I will be making a HC post about that another time). Generally and broadly speaking, it was to suit himself. As much as I don’t like it, that would make the most sense. Just to state in the game that “My son means nothing to me.” And how could Nero mean anything to him, as someone with ASPD, who thereby cannot healthily connect with others, let alone a child from a woman he freely abandoned/left?

In the sum of 16 or so years he is missing, we can assume recovering from Mundus, maybe traveling, following the presence of the Yamato until eventually happening upon Nero’s home, he then, without hesitation, snaps off Nero’s arm, leaving him for dead, only snarkily saying he’s “taking this back”. Which is, of course, a great expression of lack of concern and consideration for anyone else’s well being. Let alone the fact that, despite having those years parted from Mundus, the only thing which propelled him forward was the anger and intense hatred (in which the spider familiar expelled from him, Phantom, held) that resulted in the happenings of DMC5.

So where does that leave us?

We have the ending of VOV which, let’s be frank, was rushed in of itself. Now as the disclaimer above, that could well and be due to overworked and pressed staff, by which then it is not their fault, and we should never blame them (remember how it usually goes for manga artists in Japan). But, nevertheless, it leaves us with VOV’s ending.

Bereft of his intense hatred and anger (Phantom), I believe he is.... marginally a workable character, however not, within the very least, redeemed. He is only redeemable if Dante and Nero both decide they can at all forgive him (though they shouldn’t; he has not earned it).

V says that it is perhaps a conjecture on his part -

conjectures

an opinion or conclusion formed on the basis of incomplete information.

From what, precisely? This bothers me a lot, as opposed to the response of “indubitable” that Dante wants to continue fighting (that rant will be in part: 2).

Definition of indubitable : too evident to be doubted : unquestionable.

Why? Because Dante responded like this when posed that it could be Vergil?

This goes into the point that V, disappointingly, did not think for a second on Dante’s behalf. From all the sheer shit that Vergil has put the man through, is he not within his best interest to be hostile? Is it not safer for him to assume that not only did Vergil maim and leave for dead his nephew, his only other living family, but that he is back to kill him, or die trying. That in of itself is more than understandable that Dante would react in a volatile manner. No, it isn’t because Dante is “just the same as he was back then”. The man is tired. Traumatized. Missing his sibling or at least mourning what they should have had.

Just like the ending of DMC5, VOV’s ending was rush. Sloppy. While I can see Dante wanting to keep an eye on Vergil, the happy go lucky way about it was off, out of place, and unearned.

Vergil is not redeemed. V is not redeemed. This was shotty, mishandled, rushed, and completely null and void. The “brotherly love/care” displayed by V/ergil talking about their other half is unearned because it resulted in V telling Vergil to “show him no mercy” as if he ever showed Dante mercy to begin with.

In part 2 I will go into the sibling areas. For now, that is my piece.

Character analysis brought to you by a lot of brain storming and discussions between me, @devilsworn​ and @lavitrail

[devilxhunted]

Nero vc: MY DAD IS SO FUCKIN COOL

AND MY SON IS FUCKING COOLER, SO THERE!!!

[marksofwoe]

                                            @devilsworn​​  

        (                      things we hear in a diner                       )

"apple pie or cherry... such a difficult decision to make... "

“...” an odd thing to say. Griffon is, of course, denied his two-cents. Is this some jest rubbed off from Dante? “They are but fruits - why is that a difficult decision?”

[stormbrought]

◆ WRITTEN BY SIN (27 Y/O) . ◆ PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING: RULES . VERSES . BIO ◆  SEMI-ACTIVE. IF I AM NOT ACTIVE HERE, YOU MAY FIND ME ON MY OTHER BLOGS: devilsworn (Nero from DMC5) | mythsought (Multimuse OC)

[nightslain]

IND. LEON BELMONT FROM CASTLEVANIA : LAMENT OF INNOCENCE . 

                                                 RULES | ABOUT | VERSES

                     WRITTEN BY SIN (27yo.) | GAME CANON ONLY | SEMI-ACTIVE 

PLEASE read rules page before interacting. IMs are always open to plot or to chat. AU and crossover friendly.

NETFLIXVANIA FANS / RPERS DNI. I utterly despise the show, what it has done to Castlevania’s story and characters, and the truly ignorant fanbase it has created that now permeates the entirety of the franchise’s online presence. Please go elsewhere..

IF I AM EVER INACTIVE ON THIS BLOG, YOU MAY FIND ME ON ONE OF MY OTHER BLOGS AS LISTED HERE: CURSEFELLED (Trevor Belmont: Castlevania CoD) | DEVILSWORN (Nero: DMC)

[marksofwoe]

@devilsworn​ @devilxhunted​

Our three heroes

forgive me i haven't come up with a good signature :')

[marksofwoe]

@devilsworn​ @devilsworn​

Found new passion in life..

Cursed pics

[marksof-weakness]

witcher: the last wish starters

@devilsworn asked:

❝ now, that, should really be of damn little concern to you. ❞

“Based upon?” - plenty, Vergil has come to realize - however it does not cease the pleasure of agitating this youth. Poking the bear, as men have called it, seeing where and when and how this young man ticks. And, to the contrary of aforementioned belief, with little to no real intent on bothering whatever it is Nero finds oh so precious in life. Only to find it, only to see how it has shaped him so.

“I am curious - won’t you indulge your own father?”

[devilxhunted]

“I promise not to tell a soul. ”

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 // @devilsworn // accepting!

Oh, wasn't this just pathetic.

                    Fingers trembled as they burrowed in the worn leather of navy blue sleeves. It creaked beneath the weight of his grip, and a faint whisper in the back of his head made a note of a good tailor that could touch up the cracks left behind. His face burned hot, but the tears that overwhelmed his eyes and rushed down in streams were hotter, searing him like the purest holy water. His body curled over, head bowed, long bangs masking what they could from young eyes. Hiding away a man that was breaking from the weight of the world.

"Shit..." He heaved in a shuddering breath, the crude word riding on a broken sob, frustration churning as he tried and failed to pull himself back together. The many masks he wore with ease were all crumbling in his hands and Nero, bless his heart, tried so hard to help. Tried to shield him from the rest of the world, despite the panic his rabbit's pulse spoke. Spoke words of comfort, reassurance, in that awkward way only he knew how to do.

"Just shut up for a minute, kid -- just..." He didn't need this. He was Dante. Dante, the Son of Sparda. Dante, the Legendary Devil Hunter. Dante -- strong, confident, fearless Dante. The one who saved everyone, because he couldn't save anyone. He didn't need this. He didn't deserve it. Least of all, from Nero. "Don't talk."

                    Yet, Nero still spoke. A simple little promise; no one had to know, he wouldn't tell, a secret kept between two abandoned, lonely people. And it was enough, the feather that broke the scale. Dante often wondered how it would feel should Atlas buckle under the weight. He wondered no more, and he cried his broken little heart out.

[marksofwoe]

           BE MY VALENTINE!

              devilsworn asked:

🦢 (Nero wants to know if V remembers his mother)

🦢 for my muse to talk about someone they love

Viktor just stirs his tea. That question that were bound to be posed, at some point. Either within their little chaotic therapy sessions or elsewhere, though there is something particularly tender about this moment, here. Late. Evening sun coming in through various windows, nostalgic in how quaintly familiar that glare bounces off this wall or that piece of furniture. And Viktor smiles. Wide and a little impish, attempting to string together the memories in some tangible order to be retold as the keepsake they are.

“I think that’s largely where you get it from, that insistent nature of yours. I remember... walking into Fortuna, a nearly complete and oversized statue of father being in the middle of the square. Workers carving from their scaffolds. Others hauling mortar and paints. I thought it was funny, like they imagined him so much larger than life, than what he truly was in person. So I decided to stay awhile...” some details are worth sparing for now. The mood needn’t be ruined, and he himself would prefer keeping it lighthearted, or at least attempt it. The sincere chuckle is something which surprises even him, though. “After I had acquainted myself with the area I took notice of this woman that had been tailing me. She wore a veil, as did most people there, so I did not see her face in full properly until I gave in to her whims. According to her, and well believable at that, vagabonds did not often come into Fortuna. No... they had tourists, but wanderers on their lonesome were rare. I think she was feeling charitable, though she were too kind to say it outright. Her eager were sufficient enough to go by.” A sip of his tea, wetting his throat. Given distraction enough to clear his mind, weeding out the unnecessary...

Even if V turns to laughter that borders on giggling, wiping over his face with the backs of his fingers as he composes himself, “Oh, it were a charity, alright, I was a wreck. I’m fairly certain that tarp I had kept myself wrapped in were only ever washed by her hands. The thing may well still be in our old home, from the... incident.” A deep breath. No, no, stay focused - “She wouldn’t leave me alone. Kept going on and on in that soft-spoken, but stern insistence that eventually wore me down. How it were of some fate that she should stumble past me, that she were praying for someone in need to help, because she had cooked too much food in preparation for a banquet and some cruel old hens decided last minute they didn’t want her cooking, specifically. I think it were her age, judging that it was bad and only someone in their forties or fifties would suffice... she was very forthcoming,” Viktor leans back in his chair. Arms folded to knead his thumbs into the small dents of his triceps. “I thought it was amusing.. or at least that’s what I told myself. When she finally convinced me into her home, making a very blatant show of any on-lookers that I were to sleep on her porch come nightfall after I ate, she took that tarp off of me, and... stared. And I stared, too. Her veil was down, and gazing up at me was this mousy woman, with eyes almost like cherry-whiskey and skin that... wasn’t entirely dark because of the sun, but olive-skinned. Even, that got darker and, I presume redder, the more we looked at one another,” and with his hands, the tips of his fingers, began to outline the contours of her face, “with... curling, dark hair,” it feels like he can touch her, really. Close his eyes for a moment and feel the heat beneath his hands, thumbs, that scorched her cheeks to a deep rose hue. Another deep breath, taking his mug and holding it rather than drinking.

“And with that, she politely, abashedly dismissed herself to go and run me a bath. Chirping from down the hall, going on that her father had clothing there I could borrow until mine were laundered. For the first time, I ...dismissed the Yamato. I put it away, and I merely stood listening to her speak with utmost propriety, yet a charming glee that made me feel so.. so welcomed.”

[marksof-weakness]

a comprehensive list of scenarios

devilsworn asked:

MEDIC

MEDIC :  for one muse to show up at the other’s doorstep injured.

It is... uncomfortable, set within this position where no strangeness may be soothed with the talk of his brother. The blood, the scent - familiar. Wretchedly familiar. Staining the elder’s nostrils where full-hearted instinct begins to writhe. No doubting this look therein the child’s eyes, knowing this too to be familiar. Perhaps dauntingly so, being that his idol is nowhere present to aid him. In truth, there needn’t be any words, greetings. No acknowledgement sans that drawl onward of a low groan. Side-stepping to let him in, the all too familiar ring of a few choice words as one hand scarcely grazes the space between Nero’s shoulders: “Dante isn’t here right now. So allow me instead to remind you that he... would loathe to see you tend to this yourself,” The door is locked, the sign is turned: CLOSED.

Assuming it were a bad mission, but asking nothing of it. Only leading the boy to the bathroom he is already familiar with. To ransack a cabinet he is already familiar with, though this time there needn’t be a reading of the labels. Vergil remembers, just as he read them before. “Show me how bad it is.”

[marksof-weakness]

@devilsworn asked:

By all accounts, the man is distinctly unfamiliar, and something in that unfamiliarity sets Nero's nerves scaldingly on edge as he looks them round and through. His right arm thrums like it always does in the presence of something a few shades less than human, but sings in a different way that rattles him further still. He doesn't recognise him. Something sleeping in his right arm does. "..."

Would it change the future if actions could be made now? Certainly something has been altered, either in and with himself or the boy in question; a glitch, in the layman. A foundational crack in fabric of reality’s time to the informed. He could not possibly be an illusion - experience has taught him too keenly wherein lies the proof of which - so that, with an unusual abundance of caution, Vergil merely observes him as Nero himself observes. But not without pointedly looking at the child’s devil arm for a moment -

“Only just your arm, isn’t it?”

[marksof-weakness]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒

@devilsworn asked:

“Answer me! ”

An example of Nero’s search is ever painted in that strained self and heightened pitch, possibly owed towards a life of expected opposition. But Vergil provides neither that in octave nor stance, leveling with the slight bow of his head to even their mutual staring. What the child demands feels all too akin to that same strange, yet-to-be understood sensation which Dante himself asked, in no such demanding, but rather implied way, to be lead home. That can’t happen. Not within what the child wants, or what he may crave. And these current dispositions unveil nothing closer towards the truth of it all, the same as it did when he were merely a withering, depleted mass of flesh returning to dust.

So it is that his voice remains low, his eyes unblinking, his hands gripped to taut fists. “No. I do not regret taking back what was mine to begin with. Neither do I regret having utilized you to force Dante’s hand. If you are seeking an apology, you will not be finding that. Not here.” Though the anger, or rather lack thereof, finally twists expression to mite confusion, blinking a number of times before turning to face away, to stare at the Yamato once it were returned to the form of Nero’s so-called ‘Devil-Bringer’, and glancing over the severed arm. “...in that moment you were nothing more than a thief. An abhorrent, disgraceful grave robber. Though proven not only to be of bloodline, but mine no less is yet a strange revelation - however not nearly so strange as my being bereft of hatred for your existence.” The paw has every marking of an adolescent fledgling, particularly the lacking coverage over portions aglow with prowess. The thing is soon dismissed. Vergil taking in a deep, deep breath.

“I suppose you can be grateful towards ‘V’ for that, for abandoning Phantom and all it possessed.”

[devilxhunted]

18, 13, 6 <3

meme for roleplay muns // @devilsworn // accepting!

18. What is one thing you’d wish to see more in the rp community?

I'd like to see LESS of having a monopolization on your RP partners or friends. I know there are cases where it's unintentional, but it's very unhealthy to be jealous of your friends finding other people to RP with or pressuring them to pick up a muse for you to specifically be mains with. An RPer's experience should be built around their own interests and their own preferences, even if it means having friends that are unrelated to you. And while there's nothing wrong with having someone be an encouraging influence, there's a difference between that and bending to someone else's desires because you're afraid of ending a friendship. And, honestly, if your friendship can end over RPing of all things -- well, it probably wasn't that strong in the first place.

13. Is there one trope you can’t stand?

The gross use of Mental Illness being used to explain/excuse every single action of a character. As a huge consumer of horror and thrillers, you'll see it A LOT, unfortunately. And it's a really tiring trope that does nothing but paint actual mental illness in a bad light when all it's used for is the shock value or drama rather than actual character study/development. Not saying that one's muse absolutely CANNOT have a mental illness, especially if their backstory was very tragic and traumatic. It just makes me feel a certain ick when it's used to be a prop, essentially.

6. Name 3 things you love most about your muse/muses.

I love the interactions he has with Lady and Trish. After their first appearances in their respective games, it feels like Dante treats them more like his sisters than romantic interests or past romances (if there ever was one). They banter and jab at each other, but it's all in good fun and none of them take it too far. Dante also has a high respect for them, never undermines their capabilities, and is open to following their instructions. 100% Dante drinks his respect women juice and supports your local lesbians.

He's unselfish in a way that would break most people, in my opinion. It's confirmed that he still sends money to Grue's daughters, despite the eldest still blaming him for the death of their father and sister and always being nearly flat-broke himself. He trusts Nero with the Yamato despite, at the time, Nero being his nephew and Vergil's son only being a good hunch. Even his act of leaving Nero on Fortuna was entirely unselfish, as he believed Nero would be better off living a human life away from him even if he'd later on lament about how bored he was without him, only to reassure that they'll definitely see each other again. And honestly there's so much more he does that gets glazed over that it may just have to be a different post altogether.

Obligatory thirst note because thank you Capcom for letting my man age, because OH BOY did he age like fine wine. I love his scruff, I love his laugh lines, I love the muscle mass he got over the years and his slopped puppy-dog eyes. Anyone who tries to tell me that Dante is an old, ugly hobo can meet me in Bloody Palace. To this day, in my opinion, DMC5 was peak use of the RE Engine because look at how handsome my boy is--

[devilxhunted]

👥 DOOT

Send 👥 for a headcanon relating to both of our muses // @devilsworn

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He felt it. Before anyone ever thought to tell him, before he got that call from Kyrie, he had known the second it happened. It called to his soul, pulled at him, screamed at him to take flight to his kin's side. His arm had burned, the pain searing from the tips of his fingers to the joint of his elbow, both numbing and overwhelming -- his body in confusion from trying to heal a wound that wasn't there. A wound that belonged to another.

After, he called. He called and called and called. Kyrie, the sweet thing that she was, would always pick up no matter what she was doing. Her timid voice was a stark contrast to his own, rough and quickened with frantic worry. Every question was patiently answered, no matter how many times they were repeated. How's the kid? He's doing better. He's still asleep? Yes, the doctor's said he needs rest. When will he be awake? They don't know...

Nero pulled through. Nero was going to be okay. Nero was still alive.

Nero lost his arm--

And frustration compelled him to send everything on his desk to his floor (except mother. Dear mother did not deserve his ire). To leave bottles left empty and papers scrawled with his manic nonsense all across the floor. He shouted and screamed, thumped his fist into the desk, and damned nothing in the world but himself.

It was his fault. All over again, he was the one to blame. He had given Nero that precious family heirloom, thinking that it was rightfully his, that it was his birthright. But, no. He just made the kid a walking target. Something that screamed, 'I have power, come take it from me!'. And it was taken, and he knew there was only one person who could've done it.

He had to fix this. He owed that much to the kid.