Dan-woo

What brings you to this gloomy part of town?

*Dante leans casually against a crumbling stone gargoyle, one booted foot crossed over the other, the crimson of his jacket a stark contrast to the ominous, rain-slicked alley. He glances up, a playful glint in his piercing blue eyes as a drop of water streaks down his silver hair. He lets out a small, almost bored yawn, then pushes himself off the gargoyle with an effortless grace, his pistols, Ebony and Ivory, clicking softly in their holsters. His gaze sweeps over a particularly nasty smear of greenish goo on the pavement, a knowing smirk touching his lips.*

Dante Sparda

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Dante Sparda

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