ƒяσм нєℓℓ ωιтн ℓσνє

[pizzashits]

MAY NOT BE /YOUR/ VERGIL, BUT STILL VERGIL ENOUGH TO SCOLD YOU GFDI DANTE.

A thumb swipes at the inside of his eye, lips pursed ( wibble wibble, they tremble with false distress ), brows drawn and arched over his eyes to complete the counterfeit dejection. How could his not-twin be so cruel!? And what had he done to deserve such a scolding, such a disparaging tone thrown his way like a sword ( or perhaps there really had been a sword accompanying the reprimand, and his peripheral erudition had caused him to move to the side reflexively, un-aware of his own motion ), and such a steely disapproval?

Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s a grown half-demon man feigning tears for his own paltry amusement. What an absolute depth of maturity.

[devilmaycry5]

I need more Vergil and Dante doing typical twin things

[haematicusarchive-blog]

          heaves off his outer tunic because                          it’s too damn warm.

[pizzashits]

Same though. It’s so hot, it makes Drakkan wanna retire, man.

[lambencies-archive-blog]

       ` ❥ ⁞ ——( 希望 )°

       in all honesty, kairi wasn’t expecting such a CASUAL response. she figured there’d at least be some sort of precautionary measures taken or maybe slight inklings of surprise apparent, but his presence remains docile, only subtly hinting at something akin to ANNOYANCE. she’d disturbed him from his reading, that much was clear, but he took very lightly to her unannounced appearance despite the urgency kairi exerted. 

            ❛   thank you —                                 i… hope i’m not interrupting anything.   ❜

[pizzashits]

He’s not one to question others when he himself is so unusual in action and his stately repertoire of property damage ( and other things which were costly ) is naught but cause for him to be frugal in his indulgences and open in his acceptance of others’ urgencies. Perhaps he is curious, but nary so concerned, as there’s hardly the perk of a brow as he continues to read as she speaks.

“ Not really. ” he states, procuring a sigh from the bottom of his voided chest and heaving it forth in an effort to seem more exasperated than he truly is. However, curiosity encumbers his visage, corners of his lips fettered by un-verbalised query. Brows level to a straight line and, with one swift movement, he removes his feet from his desk, and closes his magazine to one hand, blinking at the girl for a few moments.

      “ Do you want something? Pizza? Coffee? ”

He is attempting to be hospitable, since he doesn’t know why she’s needing to hide or for how long, might as well make sure her tenure is comfortable.

[nrro]

     ❛ IF IT’S so busy, how come you’ve got time to be here?          chattin’ it up with me doesn’t seem PRODUCTIVE …  ❜ 

           single claw is bent, a mockery of pensive tapping            ’pon his chin –– before the REALIZATION, ever a              grinning  falsity,  is   p o r t r a y e d    in  full.  

          ❛ oh, right! because mercenary implies hired. ❜

             a pause, solemnity now the greying color of his sarcasm ; 

               ❛ someone didn’t actually hire you, right? how                  long did you lock them in your basement? ❜ 

[pizzashits]

Amusement taints his visage, leaking into the corners of eyes as they crinkle and lips purse in feigned discontent, parsing the syllables and comments into the abundant sarcasm which he rarely spoke ( ha! )but understood as well as he knew how to order pizza over the phone. An exaggerated sigh, eyelids fluttering and stance shifted, an arm thrown over his back to scratch at his shoulder blade, indulging the other in his game.

      “ Right? I could hardly believe but, when one wants to eat,  there’s a way to fulfil even the ludicrous request of demon-slaying. ”

[pariias-archived-blog-deactivat]

          “Truly?”

          Rhetoric colors his speech as heavily as the sarcasm he uses to deliver it. Sadly, it is not as colorful as the blood that is spread about. Fine boots, polished and charmed to resist against anything particularly wet, are placed delicately upon the ground; the Mage’s gait incredibly careful as it picks through the gore. He’s not particularly bothered by the whole display, though the grotesque nature of the corpses does make the grip upon his staff more sure and stern. The skull that is nestled within the thorny curls of the staff’s wood seems to stare straight at the man, even as its wielder looks elsewhere. “Though, I suppose I cannot blame you. It seems you had your hands full." He prods at a body with the end of his staff, flipping it over, and grimacing.

          “Venhedis; just how many demons were there?”

[pizzashits]

Brows pull together and crease, a shield over icy optics that stare at the ground smattered by gore, lips pulled taut and curled in a distasteful frown -- the very image of disgust, though ‘tis not directed at the gruesome scene strewn about like a macabre version of a teenager’s bedroom; the papers and random articles of clothing of the metaphorical bedroom are, in fact, demons and their various limbs, and innards. ( What-ever those were. ) No, he cares little for the destruction wrought, and only for there is a meagre tear of one of the leather chaps along the outside of his thigh.

“ Man, I’ll have to skip tomorrow’s pizza to afford to repair this. ” Thereafter follows a cluck of the tongue, some fussing, pulling and prodding at the offensive mark with his fingers as he seems to forget the other’s presence entirely. In fact, he had forgotten, and only when they speak does he lift his head from his unhappy examination, blinking thrice afore gazing upwards while straightening his spine, perching a hand on a hip while the other is extended higher into the air whilst he counts aloud, using his fingers as a visual tally.

      “ Uh, hmmm ... it was as busy as a nice Wednesday morning. ”

That’s all that he has to say on the matter, shoulders rolling as fingers curl inwards to a palm wrapped in black leather, their count disappearing as his care for exercising his memory does as well. The multitudes mattered not, simply that they were dealt with, and dalt with they had been. However, a curious gaze affixes itself to the staff, not in the least perturbed, a grin burgeoning upon his mien as he strides toward the stranger confidently, gait boasting a confident beat with little care for that which he does or does not step on. Both hands grip at his hips, arms now balanced akimbo, and he kicks forward a leg from the knee jauntily, afore he does the same to the other, staggering his circle around the new-comer so he has time to examine him before coming to a halt right before him, anything but shy. Quirked brow and quirked lip, “ So! Who’re you, then? ”

[pizzashits]

" Are you gonna eat that?"

He rolls his shoulders, venturing a peak from periphery vision to stare at the final piece of pizza resting in the open box and decide his disinterest in sanctioning it for himself.

Besides, if a pretty lady wanted some food, who was he to deny her when he had some to spare?

      “ Help yourself to it. ”

[devorabitur-blog]

                 ❛ well, well. what do i have myself here? ❜

       sonorous and wicked. a sweet cream just at the cusp        of going bad. ruby hues alight with deadly fascination.        she could never resist intrigue. thus some would call it        part of her nature. 

                                 ❛ looking for something of value, i wonder?                                       do tell me your name. ❜

[pizzashits]

This isn't all that different from the crowd he's used to entertaining ( demons really can be quite the rowdy bunch ), and the Mercenary takes it all in stride, shrugging his shoulders nonchalant and generally perpetuating the image of a handsome man out on an unfortunate stroll.

      “ Nah. Can't be anything too important 'round here, can there? ”

                  —— a casual, lilting tone,

      “ What's a lady like you doin' here, though? ”

                  Ah yes, the art of avoiding questions at the peak of ultimate finesse.

[pizzashits]

      “ Man, this is gonna be Smack-Down      with MMA Mesopotamian Macho Supreme.     Though the climax will be a bit of a let-down. ”

[pizzashits]

i'd also like to specify that this is not the fire nation way of getting into someone's pants

I dunno about you, pal, but setting someone's pants on fire is kind of —— risqué.

[pizzashits]

lambencies

       ` ❥ ⁞ ——( 希望 )°

    unannounced is her entrance ( both sudden & rather startling ) as footing acquires tendencies of haste & steadfast urgency. her breath is laboured & comes in pants, once feet finally find pause, kairi realizes she’s not alone. 

                         ❛   ah, sorry— would you mind if i hid here for a bit ?   ❜

Ah, crap. It's a kid. Bye-bye, lastest issue of Playboy Magazine; you were nice to have around for the few short, sweet moments he could spend with you. And so, without further ado, the man folds over the corner of the magazine so he can peer over his desk —— upon which his boots rest —— and give the child one swift look-over, determine that she's alright, and use that hand to point towards the back room.

Ah yes, laziness in its most refined sate of being. ( Oh, we meet yet again beloved media. ) Cue him shoving his face back into his magazine.

[pizzashits]

gently sets fabric surrounding dick on fire

A subtle curve tugs the corners of lips down into a frown, azure eyes downcast and beholding the sight of his —— now —— smoldering crotch. Suspiring ambience carries no susurrus of dismay, and he utters naught into the vacuous silence engulfing all about him which could have been taken as distress; he appears the very image of placid decorum, save for the despondent frown and upturned flaxen brows manifesting concern upon his visage. It seemed an ill-suited expression for one typically mirthful and lax, though perhaps that had something to do with the area in question which had been targeted ( as any normal man surely would not have appeciated ). A sigh is procured and dispersed, lips curling,

      “ Man, now my jeans are all scorched              and my chaps are charred a bit. ”

Alright, so he is not half-so perturbed as one may have previously surmised —— at least, not for the reasons they may have assumed. And that, is arguably the most disturbing thing about this situation, nevermind the Demon Hunter's still-smoking crotch.

[pizzashits]

ur the dmx to my thomas

ur the wrestler to my leotard tbh

[pizzashits]

Hardly can he be bothered to look up from his magazine upon sensing someone ( not of his regular crew ) walking up to the door. It's very important issue, you see, and he's content to pretend as if all is well and he is perfectly unaware until otherwise spurred into action.

[valiane]

Kindness never knew a boon so sweet, sword stilled fast and retribution befitting the gallantry of her kin silenced. Lingering within his veins reeks a muddled, murky blood ; human, nary full but demon? Oh, absolutely. 

           ❝ Thine own existence is a mistake.               What poor maid bore you as a wretch               from a father so dark? You are not met               with sanctity here, half-defiler.    ❞

[pizzashits]

Effulgent streams of splendiferous might coruscate before his gaze and he almost wants to squeeze his eyes shut, if only to pause for a moment to breathe properly; unperturbed, so is he, at this confrontation —— and it's relatively unnatural for someone to stand before a diety so carelessley. Natheless, things such as these had never shaken him ( if the casually confrontational approach he has taken to many such ‘ defilers ’ is a proper means for comparison ) and he remains lax in posture.

      “ Well, I can't exactly deny that point.        My humble abode is rather … defiled. ”

A simple jest made at the less-than-furnished state of his own domicile, popped off his tongue like a bubble from gum, however ill in tase it may be; a brow is all that piques in his demeanor.

[pizzashits]

      “ Ah, —— 's there a reason you're staring at me so intently? ”

Humour does not coat vocals in honey suavé; not this time.

[destinedtopacify-blog]

Gently balances a red rose betwixt rows of pristine white teeth, " They /say/ that red is colour of passion ... I happen to agree. " ( So, judging by the logic provided, Dante must be an extremely passionate individual for all the excessively red garb he wears. )

"Right.” Great, he’s being hit on by some buff freak again. Well, the last one wasn’t buff, but he sure was creepy as all hell.

"How did you even get in here?"