The Blue Son

Indie roleplay blog for Classic Vergil from DMC OC and Crossover friendly

[bluesonofsparda]

@sweet-chimera

Vergil had just passed the threshold of the library, a new book in hand with a shiny blue bookmark wedged about a quarter of the way through the pages. It was the last of the tomes he had been reading that day and sadly had gone unfinished before the establishment was closing. The walk through the town was relatively calm, a light rain falling over the pavement. An inconvenience for but a few seconds as Vergil tucked the book into his signature coat. Water slowly soaked into his hair and left streaks down his clothes. The solitary comfort he had being his impending return home. Rain was pleasant when he wasn’t hoping to avoid water staining a book.

Finally nearing the city limits, he felt himself relaxing. His home was not far away now. Solace from the rain within his grasp. However, as if cursed with poor luck for this one night a rift in the sky stopped him cold in his tracks. A bright circular ring of gold had come into view far above the ground. Too far away to get a good read on what it was or why it had appeared. That was until something - or someone - had fallen out of it. A gateway. For a moment he just watched them plummet, awaiting them catching themselves. Of course, they didn’t and with an almost long suffering sigh he turned on heel to intercept where they were heading.

The closer they came to Earth the more obvious it was that the creature was unconscious, as well as inhuman. Vaulting up onto a fence and then to the roof of a building the devil waited several seconds as the chimera came closer and closer… Then with a sudden burst of speed he had jumped into the air, caught the woman and effortlessly landed on the street several feet from his original position. Still holding the mop of soaked fur and hair, a cold gaze returned to the sky. No sight of the golden ring that had deposited this… thing.

She wasn’t demonic, but carried absolutely no obvious human features either. A part of him almost wondered if she were even sentient. Something that he thought would be answered very soon as she began to stir in his arms. Ice blue eyes fell upon her face, the devil waiting for her to wake so he could decide his next course of action. Either to dump her into the street to handle her own problems or kill her outright should she prove hostile.

[bluesonofsparda]

@geneito

Darkness had long since fallen over the small town Vergil frequented, casting dark shadows over homes and shops alike. Porch lights and neon signs were the only lights on the ground while the sky shone bright with stars and moon. The gentle silver glow leaving the area bathed in a nebulous aura of peace. It was a rare moment of twilight where Vergil sat alone in the now vacant park just basking in the silence. Usually he would come here to read, a scenic change to the library while researching. However at the current juncture, he was taking solace in solitude. Allowing the devil a reprieve from his search for power.

That was until he caught a glimpse of movement. On any other occasion this would be written off as a human heading home from work or a stray dog cutting by an alleyway. Yet something nagged at the back of his mind… the quick flash of white trim on blue. It was but a short glimpse of the unknown walking through the surrounding buildings. However that did not stop the man from standing up and observing the next gap in the housing structures.

A few seemingly endless moments passed before blue eyes caught near identical blues of what he would have thought to be Dante if not for everything else. Their body structure, clothing, and weapon was eerily the same as his own. Like staring into a mirror that breathed and stood just off beat with himself. Impersonation was nothing new, a body can be replicated through demonic means rather easily. What could not be replicated as easily was aura. This clone radiated power much the same as his own. Small spikes in difference, peaks in their history that changed them in the most minute of ways.

Finally, shaken from his thoughts his grip on Yamato tightened slightly and he took several purposeful steps towards his faux twin. Stopping a mere few feet away from them, icy eyes swept over the other’s form once more. Taking in every single similarity they held in a sickeningly accurate rewrite of himself. Were this to be revealed as a trick, someone was going to suffer.

“While I find the imitation flattering, it is not appreciated in the slightest,” the way he stressed the word implied that he found this about as flattering as an unjustly delivered insult.

[bluesonofsparda]

@herousanimarum

Aged parchment soothed the devil into a pacified state as he read through the elder tome of witchcraft. Human magic, the mixing of herb and bone, was not a particular interest of his, although the allure of new knowledge was too grand. Despite this, he still found it quite pathetic how humans thought by appealing to a higher power that their spells were more likely to work. The moon and sun hardly cared for what some insignificant creature was doing upon the Earth’s surface. Humans always did have this vile illusion of grandeur about them. One had to wonder where this sense of pride originated from.

As he delved further into the text, the sounds of combat drifted through the breeze to greet his ears. Screeching of metal on metal grating on his concentration like a swatch of sandpaper. Gaze rising from the page the hybrid focused acutely on the commotion in an attempt to pinpoint it’s source. It was nearby. Closer than he’d have preferred. Standing from his spot below the mighty oak tree he rest beneath, he tucked his book into his coat. Yamato stay attached at his hip, left hand gripping their sheath tightly as he began to walk towards the rumble of combat.

In truth, Vergil had no real expectations as to what he’d find when he stepped from the park and into the hustle and bustle of the city. However, a sizable pack of demons swarming over a red-brown coated male was last on the list. He was sure that no human was foolish enough to attempt melee combat with the hordes of hell, but he was proven wrong. The human held a sizable axe in their hands and fought like a man possessed by wolves. Snarling, growling and lunging like a rabid animal. What they lacked in grace they made up for in sheer force of blows. It was as if this man had lived many years upon the battlefield with nothing but his weapon.

For a few minutes he simply observed from his distanced location, only dispatching the brave creatures that thought it smart to target the devil. Yet as the minutes ticked by it was clear that the endless tidal wave of demons was wearing the warrior down. Not via his energy as one would expect, but by landing unceasing blows. They piled over him like ants swarming fresh fallen food. It was but a matter of time until the human was left as nothing but ribbons of flesh and loose entrails. Perhaps the extended time he had spent with his brother left him soft, but Yamato was released from their confines and in short order slicing through what was left of the demonic beasts.

Light steps paired with flowing and largely graceful swings of the blade easily dwindled what little was still standing. Soon leaving not a trace of their existence but rapidly decomposing bodies and thick black blood coating the street. Flicking the ichor from his sword, their partner was soon sheathed and ice blue eyes fell upon the human once more. Even now, leaned on their axe and badly damaged they resembled a wild animal. A chained canine waiting for a chance to strike out at the hand that feeds it.

Interesting.

“Leave combat to those with real power,” his tone was cold, uncaring, but with just enough bite to be a clear insult. Despite their valiant attempts at clearing the infestation, the human body was only capable of so much. Least of all in close quarters combat. “Pick yourself up and find medical attention.”

With those last words, the hybrid finally gave the man an appraising look. Short golden blond hair, deep brown eyes, and a shirt paired with a trench coat that left little to the imagination. They left a sour taste of familiarity in his mouth. The added dashes or red that patterned their clothes doing little to differentiate this painfully mortal creature from his fool of a twin.

[bluesonofsparda]

radiantxhero‌:

It was easy enough to see that the man’s attention first went to the blade by Ike’s side – a good sign of a seasoned warrior, or, at the very least, someone who wasn’t a completely oblivious fool. Disoriented as the man must have been, he was quick to identify Ike and the weapon he had. Something the mercenary leader could certainly admit to being appreciative of in a fellow warrior, even if not spoken aloud.

The way he spoke put Ike in mind of Soren; careful, cold and calculating. This man was not reckless. He was thinking, taking in the situation while trying to appear as if he were not doing so in such a deeply observant way.

It didn’t really bother Ike. 

He was keeping a close eye on this guy, and though his abilities were still an unknown factor at this point, he felt confident that any fight right now between the two of them would be tipped in his favor. So, blue eyes didn’t leave the man as he slowly shifted to take the piece of food Ike was offering. Rightfully so, the other seemed to be wary of the food; Ike had no reason to do anything to the meat, but he could understand this stranger’s hesitance.

But, it seemed hunger won out in the end as the man took the jerky, and quickly ate it without any further questioning. While he was occupied with feeding himself, Ike pushed the pouch that held the remainder of the dried meat closer to the man opposite himself. Ike had already had his fill, and perhaps it would help establish a base of trust between them, small as the gesture was.

“…You don’t know where you’re at?”

Odd. If the man had come from anywhere outside of Crimea, there would have been something to let him know that he’d crossed a border. A marker, border guard – something. 

“Southern Crimea,” Ike answered after a moment, eyes falling to the way this stranger kept a constant hand on his sword. “Were you attacked here in the woods?” he asked, a question for a question.

Southern Crimea. The name floated around in his mind for several long beats. Crimea, as far as he knew, is a peninsula on the northern coast of the Black Sea in Eastern Europe. His vast knowledge of geography finally having come in handy, he supposed. Although that posed several other odd mysteries. Most amusingly was why Crimea carried such a medieval looking man without the expected Russian accent. Waving that information aside, his focus returned to the human in question.

“No.” the response was short and rather unhelpful, but after a beat of silence expounded upon. “I was well within city limits when the battle was initiated,”

The response was left bare, not divulging any obvious weakness, but leaving a hint as to his own lack of explanation to why he was here. As he pondered his next question, his fingers carefully twined with the yellow ribbon decorating Yamato. He and his companion had made it out alive and in - mostly - one piece, but what had become of Dante? Demon activity surely hadn’t been that dense in a while, but they were both seasoned enough to have easily felled their targets without incident. Brows furrowed minutely as he pressed at the hazy barrier locking away his memory, a small showing at the inner conflict he was struck with.

“How far away is the nearest settlement?”

As much as his curiosity over this man’s motives burned at the back of his mind, he would like to return home. If only to rest in a place he considered relatively safe. His demon blood would finally stitch his arm back together after he stopped pushing himself passed what his human body allowed. Once he was in his own room, of course. Sparing a glance at the bag of dried meat he denied himself the luxury of food. Instead using what little strength he had regained to push himself to his feet.

The motion brought a sudden sense of nausea over him that he easily tamped down. Standing left him immediately aware of just how much damage he had sustained as even now there was a wildly untamed amount of pain at the base of his skull and several other less worrying places. Sword still gripped in his damaged left arm, he brought his right hand to his side. A blank look on his face as he dug a crumpled bullet from the now shallow wound. Strange.

Dropping the blunted object to the forest floor he awaited the human’s response. Once he was gifted with directions; he was leaving. The now reopened wound would hardly slow him down any further than the culmination of damage he sustained.

[bluesonofsparda]

radiantxhero:

Ike kept his head on a focused swivel, keeping his eyes and ears open as he walked through the lightly wooded area. The town nearby had complained about odd happenings in the woods for the past few days; strange noises, people, and the like. They wanted someone to check it out, and Ike could handle this sort of job while the rest of the company took care of several larger jobs.

He hadn’t come across anything strange, unless you counted what appeared to be a lost cow.

Until…

Stepping through a patch of bushes, Ike was almost caught off guard by the man he came across. Ike supposed he must have spooked this guy as well, since he seemed to try and defend himself with some sort of magic; blue blades made of energy appeared from thin air, but they disappeared before Ike could even bring a hand to his own sword.

Huffing out a breath, Ike relaxed his posture.

Well, that was a sudden shift in things. But, with this man now passed out, there wasn’t any more threat of a fight. At least…not imminently. Though he didn’t feel in any danger at the moment, Ike took his sword from the strap that kept it on his back, digging the tip into the earth as he considered the unconscious body in front of him.

His clothes were not something seen in this area. He looked pretty beat up, as well.  

Sitting down several paces away from the man, Ike made sure to keep the other within his full view. He couldn’t exactly ask this guy any questions with him knocked out, and so the mercenary leader settled in to wait for him to come around again. If it came to a fight, he’d be better prepared to subdue him, but Ike hoped it could stay just a simple talk about who this man was and why he was in this area – not to mention where he got those injuries.

Ah, well, may as well quell some of the hunger building up after several hours of hiking through the woods. He’d save some of the dried meat for this guy, whenever he came around again. 

An hour or two passed, Ike idly chewing through his supply of dried meat, when the other man slumped against the tree started to stir once again. Speaking up before the man could do or say anything himself, Ike offered him a strip of jerky, “You hungry?”

A dark haze kept him just on the brink of unconsciousness even as he stirred, the grip he held on Yamato tightening as he felt himself coming to. Words were spoken to him, of which they barely registered. Despite the voice’s unfamiliarity, he felt a bit more at ease with the illusion that his mind painted upon hearing it. When cold blue eyes opened, he expected to catch a glimpse of short white hair and crimson clothes. A clone of himself standing before him with a box of grease covered food and a ridiculous grin on their face. However, what his gaze met was the stranger he’d thought to kill earlier. Upon this recognition, he focused on the weapon next to them, ignoring the offered food as he took in the craftsmanship of the blade. Judging by their build and weapon, that was swung with more force than finesse.

Simple enough to deal with should they come to blows.

“I am,” he finally responded, voice maintaining a cold, but calm detachment from the situation. It was practiced, something that came naturally without any effort on his end.

With his response out in the air, his gaze dropped to the jerky being offered. While not something he’d usually partake in, he was far too in need of energy to complain. Yet upon attempting to reach for it, white hot pain blinded his every thought. No sound was made, but his brows did furrow in just the slightest hint of pain. Had he not been so strapped for energy, he was sure that his arm would have at least been operable by now, but fate seemed cruel this day. So instead he used his right hand to take the food from this stranger. His left may not have been his dominant hand, but in moments of high stress, he liked to keep a grip on Yamato. Perhaps a remnant of his childhood, but it helped keep him from worrying in some small way.

Brushing these distracting thoughts away, he let his attention drop to the food in his hand, taking a cursory sniff before eating it. Realistically, had this man wanted him dead, that blade would have been used instead of a poison, but it never hurt to be careful. Satisfied that he wasn’t in any imminent danger, Vergil finally took a bite of the food. Almost immediately after the first bite, he realized just how starved he had been. With this new found wave of hunger, the dried snack was polished off before he even concerned himself with anything else again. Feeling this weak should have disgusted him - and on many levels it did - but with his mind still hazy, he couldn’t find the mental fortitude to scold himself. It would fall onto deaf ears just this once.

Hunger staved off for the moment, he found his attention finally falling on the human in front of him. His curiosity was surface deep, nothing deeper than an occupation. It wasn’t very often humans walked around with swords after all, let alone the physique needed to properly wield said weapon. Even stranger however, was his patience. Vergil may not have deduced specific times, but it had been a bit longer than an hour since he was last cognitive. There motive for sitting here and watching over him was another topic that he could question them on. 

There seemed to be several questions he had in regards to them, but he did easily settle on one.

“Where are we?” that seemed a more pressing question at the end of the day. His lust for power wasn’t going to be sated out in the middle of these unfamiliar woodlands. He would need to return home as soon as he were capable if he wished to make any progress toward his overall goal.

[bluesonofsparda]

@radiantxhero

The taste of blood was fresh in his mouth and the pain that wracked his form would have been impossible to ignore were he a lesser warrior. That was at least what he told himself when his blue eyes were forced open by nothing but his own stubbornness. The sunlight that greeted him was too sudden, causing a wave of nausea to wash over him. Without even a second thought his eyes closed and a slow breath left him. Effectively steadying his focus so he could avoid vomiting - at least for the moment. For now he needed to figure out where he was. The quick flash of his surroundings shouldn’t have been that unfamiliar. Alas, before he could put any more thought into it he felt the claws of unconsciousness drag him back under.

It was much darker when he next awoke and while he was still in pain, his body felt just a bit more in his control. Once more, ice blue eyes opened to survey the vicinity, which went marginally better for him in the late evening. Straightaway his attention fell to the foliage around him. Noting that last he remembered he was in the ‘scenic’ landscapes of a city. Shelving this observation for later, he instead made to better his position upon the forest floor.

His initial attempt to sit up revealed several things to the hybrid, the most notable being his arm. His left arm wouldn’t move at all and the pain that consumed his thoughts when he even tried to flex the muscles, told that it was useless. Broken and most likely in need of quite a bit of time to heal. It also alerted him to how damp with blood the earth below him was. Just pressing his palm into the grass in an attempt to move left his glove and skin stained a deep red. Meaning, he was most likely still bleeding. A wondrous revelation, seeing as he was in the middle of nowhere with nothing to better his situation.

Armed with this new knowledge, he used his still functional arm to push himself onto his knees, something that took more energy than he’d have liked. Once he was up, his eyes studied around where he had been lying, quickly locating his blade as well as few crumpled bullets. Not entirely unexpected, but that didn’t stop the eye roll he gave in response to the sight. Taking the aforementioned weapon in hand, Vergil finally stood to his full height and cast his gaze to the sky. Attempting to traverse this completely unfamiliar land in night wouldn’t be a problem normally, but right now seemed a quite inopportune. With his body desperately trying to stitch itself back together, avoiding any unnecessary exertion was ideal. Inconvenient, but certainly doable. With this decision made, he carried himself a few short feet from his pooling blood to sit against a tree.

Once settled, Yamato was lain across his lap and he let his senses take in everything that surrounded him. Visually he could pick out several types of trees and bushes, some bearing fruit and some without. The sound of night dwelling critters was easy enough to pick up on, and far off was the muted sounds of running water. Most likely a river. Annoyingly however, the smell of his own life force drowned out anything else and only served as a reminder of how vulnerable he was right now. Yet without doubt, he could surmise that  he was out in the middle of the wilds. A turn of events that he couldn’t puzzle out in his mind, at least not with how floaty his thoughts suddenly became. The world seemed to shift suddenly and his center of balance felt completely off despite him remaining completely stationary. After a couple moments attempting to stave off this sudden bout of dizziness, his mind went blank and just like that, the devil was plunged back into darkness.

Sunlight was what next stirred him awake, and he was acutely aware that he wouldn’t be awake much longer just from how much pain shot through his mind. His stomach felt empty and the crusted blood pressed into his skin was driving him mad. Yet all he could manage was a halfhearted glance over of himself and the environment. It seemed he’d finally stopped bleeding and his possessions were all still with him, but around him there was a change. Someone was approaching his location. Willing himself to avoid going comatose once more, Vergil let his gaze flick to the direction the sound was coming from. A soft rustle of leaves greeted his ears and soon enough those footfalls were clear as a bell even through the haze of his mind. After what felt like an eternity to his insensible mind, the foliage broke through, a rather well built male falling into his line of sight. While the short blue hair would have caught his attention in any other circumstance, right now all his gaze could focus on was their weapon.

It was only seconds from this stranger appearing that he taxed himself too far. Several swords made up of glowing blue energy peppered the air in front of the injured male, posing a prompt challenge. What he didn’t account for was just how weak his grip on consciousness was, meaning the sudden use of his devil powers ripped him right back into darkness. However as he slipped under, his grip on Yamato tightened; the only thought he could muster being a string of unvocalized threats not to draw any closer. Without their owner awake to keep focus on the summoned swords, they simply dissipated into nothing. Leaving nothing to guard the hybrid or even pose as an unspoken threat to stay away.

Given the state he was in, however, very few would find the warrior of any real threat. His pure white hair was streaked with his own blood and his clothes were riddled with slices, holes, and so much blood that it masked their original colors. No matter how one looked at it, one thing was inarguably clear; this man should be dead. No human could lose that much blood and still be alive.