ex ungue leonem; (we may judge) the lion from its claw : from a part we may reckon the whole.
a selective, private, and independent portrayal of V from capcom's devil may cry series. very passionately studied by mika (25+). est. 10 / 2024.
rules. don't be a doofus. fiction =/= reality. cool beans.
main writing partners:
+ dante
+ nero
updated info on the ever present question of 'where is mika?' !
i got a new job ! that, plus my health situation still being a work in progress (though getting better slowly), means that while i should, hopefully, be able to be around here more finally — my activity is still gonna be sporadic and slow going. essentially: business as usual !
also let it be known this blog will be following back from @vergili. :)
peek under the readmore for info on my interpretation of V's character !
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your handAnd eternity in an hour.
William Blake (c. 1757 — 1827), Auguries of Innocence
V: Introduction
This depiction of V is based in the Devil May Cry series, so far as the canon extends. This means that Visions of V is very much taken into account. As such, it is pertinent to understand that DMC is a franchise that delves into the horror genre, so be suitably warned. That being said, it is also worthwhile to note that V's character is one that finds itself amidst potentially triggering motifs, and imagery. Potential content warnings within the canon primarily include: dissociative behavior (including hallucinations) and developing physical illness, as his body fails him. As these play a heavy role in his narrative and characterization, they will carry over even into his other verses.
Note: As I am working my way back through the franchise (I now have DMC 1, 3, 4 & 5 under my belt, plus some of the available books + manga), certain interpretations are subject to change. That being said, I should also note that this portrayal is not reboot compliant.
Elaboration: V vs. Vergil
To be clear: I do not adhere to the interpretation that V is Vergil, particularly after reading Visions of V. I find this conflation of their characters to be a very surface level read of the connection between the two. Which, frankly, I think is a shame, because as straightforward as the storytelling of the DMC franchise often is, I find V's character to be incredibly nuanced and well crafted.
That being said, I am likely going to write an entire meta about this in the near future (me being me), which I will properly link to when it's posted. Until then, for those familiar with the Kingdom Hearts series, you can sort of equate the V : Vergil as being similar to Roxas : Sora. One is borne of the other, retains some memories, — though Visions of V makes it clear that the reasons for this are primarily because of the "nightmares" (familiars) that he hosts — but is not, in all actuality the same person, despite the connection.
While the demarcation between the two is sometimes unclear because of the connection between them — ie: V having Vergil’s memories (read: trauma) due to hosting the manifestations of the nightmares, it seems evident V =/= Vergil. This is further evidenced by the fact that when V (and the familiars) talks about Vergil, there is a sense of dissociation, and he is spoken of in the 3rd person, as if he’s a different entity entirely.
Beyond that, when Vergil is not spoken of as if V and Vergil are separate entities, it is primarily when Vergil is spoken of by Dante or Nero (in game), interpreting the connection between the two or, rightfully, being confused by it. Alternatively, this will happen with Griffon (in the manga) in much the same way. It is worthwhile to point out, however, that when Griffon does so, it is often in jest; as it is also Griffon who differentiates between V and Vergil quite clearly. It is doubly worthwhile to note that the moments V himself speaks as if he is Vergil is overwhelmingly primarily when he’s having flashbacks of the nightmares he subsumed, or is hallucinating because of them.
TL;DR — While there is obviously a deeply rooted connection between V and Vergil, they are not the same character, and I won't be writing V as if they are.
I just think Nero and V deserve a bit of intimacy. Let them be soft, vulnerable, open. Let them exist in each other's space and feel comfortable with it. They deserve this. Give it to me pls.
liiiiiiiiiiiiiisten. listen listen listen. there's so much we have to discuss like???? like how kyrie fits into this because she can't be ignored obvs i love her we need to talk about that and how that develops, but it has been a full 24 hrs (try: several years) of me being emo about the implications of V AND nero as disabled characters and what that looks like going forward because YES give me the comfortable quiet g O D let them find rest in one another ???? pl S?
You. Nero doesn't know many people who'd call him a tiger - he's gotten loads of other comparisons: vicious like viper, ready to throw down like a kangaroo protecting its young, a bull on a rampage, but never a tiger - and it catches him a touch off guard. For a long moment, he simply stares at the other man, as if he could figure him out if he just looks hard enough. Of course he can't, and with that brief silence passed, he huffs a laugh and shifts his weight to one foot so he can tap the toes of his other on the ground, only to switch sides. Again, again, in a steady rhythm he doesn't mean to keep, but his body moves to it regardless.
"You're a strange guy, V," he says, but it's amused, dipped in the fondness one gets when they've uncovered a facet of someone a little bit clearer. He hasn't known him for long, and they're polar fucking opposites in so many ways, but maybe that's the draw. Someone else just like Nero might be too much, but V is a temperament to Nero's energy, and maybe there's some kind of balance there. His power's nothing to scoff at, either, though he thinks he still hasn't seen more than a fraction of it. That's the kind of dude V is: the calm surface disguises the raging depths, and you'd be damned lucky not to find out. Or to survive finding out. Nero wants to see what he's capable of, but not to be on the receiving end of it.
"Anyway, when d'you think we'll be okay to leave?" He also says the place is skeevy again, but once is probably enough. V didn't agree or disagree with him, so maybe his relationship to organized religion is different than Nero's, and while he could go off, he doesn't want to offend anyone. Something tells him V probably doesn't care - might not even be the worshipping type - but he isn't about to run on gut instinct, not with someone whose presence he's coming to enjoy. "Anywhere's gotta be better than this, right?"
𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕, V’s head tilts idly as Nero shifts his weight and taps his toes to a rhythm he can’t quite discern. A melody he’s yet to learn, perhaps. Regardless, it draws his attention from the tip-tapping of the toes and up to the piercing blue gaze that’s still staring at him. There is the most minute flicker of V’s own lashes, a swift, silent withdrawal that’s barely able to be seen aside from the most attuned of senses -- or, just maybe, by someone that is staring at him with the sharpest eyes he's presently encountered. He swallows, lips parting on a breath before he watches as that same gaze seems to soften. Or, at least, seemingly so by the admittance of Nero’s next words.
You’re a strange guy, V.
He hums, if not in agreement than in acknowledgement; though his brow quirks at the sentiment. But he’s no fool — or so he’d like to think — and neither is Shadow, as evidenced by the way the rumble of her purr gets louder. The tone of Nero’s voice is complimentary enough, according to her purring approval. Not enough to distract from his persistent discomfort, but that was another matter to attend to; and so he lets out another breath, slower, sighing, and rises from the pew. Tapping the side of his cane against the wood, the sound echoes in a sense of hollow from the high marble ceilings that can’t quite be replicated elsewhere. Shadow jolts and rolls lazily over onto all four paws on the floor, tail swishing back and forth, low. “On the contrary," he starts, "this might be one of the safest places to rest for the night.” His tone is mild, nonjudgmental. “But I doubt you’d get much rest, given your current… well.” Stepping forward, he lightly taps the side of his cane against the leg currently tapping Nero’s toes away.
Nero doesn't know why V's talking about a tiger; his cat's a panther. But V's a deeper guy than Nero gives him credit for in that moment, and it probably means something deeper or different and Nero just doesn't know it. Maybe he'll pick his brain about it. It'd be a decent distraction in this place, get his mind off the churches he used to visit and defend and be forced to listen to hymns and preaching to a demon that Nero came to resent. A demon that's soft on humanity? Fuck that. Demonkind are what ruined Fortuna and killed his foster parents, what corrupted Credo and nearly made them all lose Kyrie. Nero doesn't want to be here - but something to take his mind off of things until they leave would be nice.
"Dunno if I know how to sit still," he says with a laugh, parroting something Kyrie and Nico have often teased him about. He can't even be offended about it, because it's true. He's not bouncing off the walls restless, but his natural tendency to move around, combined with his anxiety over being inside a church again, pushes him to agitation that keeps him from feeling like he'd be able to stay still for any significant length of time. And hey, maybe it'll help the time pass more quickly than just sitting. "I don't really like churches. They're skeevy, y'know?"
He exhales sharply and bounces a few more times, a couple inches into the air and landing on his toes, like he's hyping himself for...well, for anything, but eventually he makes his way over to V, standing in front of him while rocking himself slowly from side to side. A quiet way to be moving. Though there's something about being closer to V, of focusing on him, that gives Nero a strange sense of calm. Maybe that's what Nero needed: Something to focus on.
"You calling her a tiger?" he says, gesturing to Shadow with his chin, a smile crossing his lips. The humor, the attempt at teasing, is obvious in his tone. Of course he knows that V doesn't believe Shadow to be a tiger, of course not. But it's Nero's on way of trying to get V to open up a bit more and talk to him. They've met up with each other a couple of times now, but V is still something of a mystery to him. "Or me? Maybe I've got some tiger-esque qualities."
𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄, an olive gaze watches carefully as nero paces, bounces, and approaches; all with the hint of a smile, an amused glint twinkling in the iris of his eyes. his perceptive stare is not unlike the panther that yawns and stretches out beside him, mind working silently behind the window to the soul. the boy serves as entertainment, at least ––– but more than that, v finds him oddly... endearing. the thought causes him to cast his gaze from nero's person to the stained glass windows above them. thoughtful, perhaps; but his grip on the handle of his cane tightens as he stares at the myriad of colors the moonlight brings forth. what, he wondered, brought about any sense of possible potential attachment? were griffon not settled quietly within the ink blot test ––– as the bird liked to tease ––– that covered his skin for the moment, he dares to presume he'd be berated for any such thought.
eyes narrowing minutely, falling back to nero's face, he wonders if, perhaps, it was the reminiscence of a different countenance that might garner such a stirring in the back of his mind; in stolen memory that lingered. such memory had no recollection of this boy, but his likeness to another ––– that could be a causal factor, surely.
v's expression remains calm, a platitude in contrast to nero's restless discomfort, even as he rocks his weight from foot to foot. ❛ skeevy, ❜ v echoes, the amusement still evident in the slight lopsided curve of his lips. ❛ in a place meant to inspire a sense of sanctuary. ❜ tongue sweeping the fullness of his bottom lip, his chin tilts down slightly in a poor attempt to hide the hint of his smile, dark lashes falling heavy for a moment. ❛ interesting. ❜ the comment in and of itself is a gentle prod for an explanation that he knows may go ignored. still, his curiosity sits idly by.
yet the question of the tyger causes a breath to escape his lips akin to a chuckle, his hands finally relaxing around the handle of his cane ––– that sense of serenity finally seeming to sink further into nero's skin as v watches the smile spread over his lips. it's painted with various hues from the church's windows, and v can't help the way chartreuse eyes sweep its tease. ❛ you, ❜ he murmurs in simple truth, though nero's thoughts on the matter are far from v's own. he can feel the shape of the anthology within his coat press against his rib cage. perhaps, one day, he might be able to acquiesce to the other man's mirrored curiosity.
4. churches at night — nero & v 👀 ( because it made me vibrate at speeds that shatter glass )
Nero has too many memories about churches to find any amount of comfort in them. It doesn't seem to matter that they're familiar, that he grew up in one for a while, that he became a knight of the Order and went to watch Kyrie and Credo do their own duties. Churches reek of corruption and make Nero anxious. He hops in place, catching himself on the balls of his feet, as if ready to move at a moment's notice. And he is, really. He doesn't like it here, doesn't know why they have to stay here.
He glances over at V, ready to voice his complaint, but stops when he sees him. Whereas Nero is restless, V seems calm. Maybe not at ease, maybe not comfortable, but calm. It's such an odd contrast between them; dark and light, sun and moon, the eye of a storm and the storm itself. Maybe it's a weird parallel, but the idea tucked its way into Nero's mind and refuses to let up, even or maybe especially - now. V sits in a pew with his cane perfectly positioned between his feet, hands resting on top of the came, head bowed. Nero bounces, paces, curls his fingers repeatedly.
How does he do it? Obviously different upbringings, different personalities, different people altogether. But Nero still wonders, how can he be so still? How can he be so tranquil. Moonlight spills in through the stained glass windows, drowning the room in pale colors, painting V in splashes of blue and yellow and green. And still, he doesn't move.
Nero wants again to say something, voice his frustrations, his anxiety, to see if they could leave this place sooner than later. But instead he just sighs quietly. V seems frail on the best of days, and if he needs this time to get a bit of rest, well, Nero's not going to be the one to fuck it up by making them move sooner than needed. Maybe, if he squints really hard, or maybe looks at the emptier spots of the room, he can try to forget that they're in a church at all.
He rolls his shoulders, stretches his neck from one side to the other. Part of him wonders if he could sit next to V and share that peaceful space he seems to inhabit, but Nero knows himself better than to think that he'd do anything other than interrupt the atmosphere. Still, he keeps V in the corner of his eye as he moves around, watching as the slow rise of the moon shifts the colors against his pale skin and dark hair. If the church offers nothing else, it makes V even more beautiful.
𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒; it paints the pews in muted color ––– the marble floor reflecting it back and up onto pale skin. he studies its countenance, one hand rising from the handle of his cane to twist his wrist and see the way it colors his skin between the lines of his contracts, as if he is a physical manifestation of a child's coloring book. he is, it seems, the physical manifestation of multitudes; recalls griffon's words spoken some weeks ago about taking action of his own, rather than that of the ghosted memories that he harbors. as green eyes trail the faint lines on his skin, his attention slants to the lazy sway of a panther's tail, shadow's body sprawled out on the pew beside him as if sunbathing. a cat through and through, it would seem.
he allows his hand to fall, fingers brushing through black fur to trace the violet marks hidden within that are reminiscent of his own. there is such silence in the church that he can hear the low rumble of her purr with crystal clarity ––– the serenity of it only disturbed by the pacing of the man that had chosen to accompany him that evening. evidently restless, the behavior needles at his curiosity, though nothing does such quite more than the knowledge that he is being watched.
were his own present awareness not attuned to it, he might understand it in the way he watches shadow's head move slowly to track nero's steps. he peers from the corner of his own eyes, lips curling at the corners like smoke ––– like the incense that still lingers in the air from the morning mass. fortuna has not changed, in some ways, though this church seemed to be more of a chapel or chapter house than much else.
v's attention is caught more fully as the watercolor aspect of the air catches on the pale silver of nero's hair once he steps out of the shadow of one of the church's pillars; the strong cut of his jaw cast in red. funny, he thinks. not unlike that which haunts his very own ghost. the dark fan of his lashes fall, eyes half lidded as he drops the green of his gaze to the marble, and hums. eyes cast to the side, he scratches through shadow's fur lightly. ❛ tyger, tyger, ❜ he teases, voice a low rasp in his chest equal to shadow's own purr. his eyes flicker back up in an attempt to lock with nero's own. ❛ someone's unsettled. ❜ the comment is gentle amidst the quiet.
we are one and the same, you and i. but you’ve lost me, and i’ve lost you. yet we are connected by that one feeling. “while thy branches mix with mine, and our roots together join.”
𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒. being unable to stop smiling. laughter (does chuckling count?).bear hugs. happy tears. waving arms around. dancing. contently sighing. eyes twinkling. laughter lines. childlike playfulness. skipping. talking more. affection. cracking more jokes than usual (sarcastic but still). gesturing more when talking. higher pitched voice. squealing. jumping around. clapping.
𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒. tearing up. self-hugging. one-arm cross. an aching chest.scratchy throat. a runny nose. turning away.deep breaths. quivery smiles. crying. infantile sobbing. hands gripping each other or an object. covering mouth. puffy eyes. eyes appear red.voice breaking. a distant or empty stare. monotone voice. asking for comfort. faking a smile. crumbling. shaking. whimpering. depression. abusing an unhealthy habit. withdrawing from others.big teary eyes. doing something even if it could hurt them.
𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑. furrowed brows. baring teeth. passive-aggressive comments. avoiding eye contact.sarcasm. headache. sore muscles. hiding clenched fists.irritability.jumping to conclusions.raising voice.going silent. demanding immediate action. keeping it all in until exploding. body tensing. making risky decisions. middle finger.
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑. wanting to flee or hide. what-ifs. images of what-could-be flashing in mind. uncontrollable trembling. rapid breathing. screaming. a skewed sense of time. irritability. keeping silent.denying fear. turning away from the cause. pretending to be brave. nail-biting. lip-biting. scratching skin. a joking tone but a voice that cracks. fainting. insomnia. panic attacks.exhaustion. substance abuse. tics. rushing adrenaline. face draining of colour. hair lifting on the back of the neck. feeling rooted to the spot. making body as small as possible. staring but not seeing. crying. a shrill voice. whispering. gripping something or someone. stuttering. flinching at noises. pleading.
𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. constantly yawning. slurring words together. dark circles or lines under eyes. mood swings. hallucinations. calling people by the wrong name. dizziness. denying they’re tired. slow blinking.trouble concentrating.stumbling. leaning on a doorframe for support. sluggish movements. falling asleep someplace that isn’t a bed. becoming irritated by the smallest things. “i’m awake, i’m fine.” shaking so bad they spill their drink. fall asleep in their clothes.lay their head on the table because they’re so tired. passing out.
Stop hating yourself and think of ways to get stronger and actually help. If Dante loses — you’re all that can defeat Urizen.
↳ DEVIL MAY CRY V / PROLOGUE
‘ DOWN. ’ - [ your ] muse falls to the ground. + ‘ i can handle this on my own. ’ ( for v, from nero, during dmc5 ?? 👀 )
❛ 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐍𝐎 𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐓, ❜ voice strained with the ache of a body that fractures and breaks apart like the earth of cracked riverbeds long since run dry. his faith, or rather lack of it, relied more squarely on dante’s shoulders than either of their own ; sanity owed to what flicker of hope still remained between the cage of ribs that rose and fell slowly with his every breath.
the hand clutching his bicep was less an anchor and more a lifeline ––– rope cast out to sea in the hope of saving him from sinking further to his knees. the qliphoth, in all truth, may very well be what swallows him whole, in the end ; turned to dust that would only serve to fertilize its roots, forgotten with not even an elegy to spare. gritting his teeth, v digs his nails into the ground, clenched fists shaking around the handle of a cane gripped too tightly. ❛ i am more a hindrance than a help, i know that. ❜ had proved as much more than once along their journey, though he feels a subtle tingle along his skin ; thinks, perhaps, it is meant to be a comfort from a certain feline friend.
cane planted firmly into the earth, he pushes himself upright, a tremor in his arms, beneath nero’s hand. jade eyes slant toward blue. ❛ but i must see this through. ❜ throat clicking quietly as he swallows, ❛ please. ❜
you can't keep looking away. you have to face it, learn its name, and take its hand. it is a part of you, and no amount of running will let you leave it behind.
