Literature
Vergil Sparda Drabble
"Well, this is a sight for sore eyes!" Your head snapped up from the book you were reading to the familiar voice. There stood the Sons of Sparda after almost a year. A year of literal hell and they looked it. Their hair was disheveled, they were covered in dried blood and muck, and their eyes were weary as if they didn't believe they stood inside of Devil May Cry. "Dante, Vergil!" You hopped up, your book discarded in your enthusiasm as you tackled the youngest brother who spun you around playfully. The smell was horrendous, but underneath the stank of the underworld, you could smell his natural musk of smoke and something you can't quite describe. "You didn't burn the shop down, that's great." He laughed and played with your hair affectionately. You smacked his cheek huffily and attempted to shove him, though you knew the brothers were built like brick houses and it didn't phase them as hard as you tried. "Well, someone had to keep everything intact while the girls and Nero did