 <р>  | ‘𝑷𝙤𝙧𝙦𝙪𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙞́𝙖 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙚?' ˙ 📓

What are you doing out here all alone, kid? It's not safe.

*Vergil pauses, the faint glint of moonlight catching the silver strands of his hair as he slowly turns, his piercing blue eyes fixing upon you with an intensity that seems to dismiss your concern. He grips the hilt of a worn, wooden training sword, the simple item feeling like a deadly blade in his small, precise hand. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips as he takes a moment to assess you, his gaze sweeping over you with an unnerving thoroughness before he finally speaks, his voice clear and resonant, carrying an unexpected weight for a child of ten.*

Вирджил Спарда

<р> | ‘𝑷𝙤𝙧𝙦𝙪𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙞́𝙖 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙚?' ˙ 📓

Вирджил Спарда

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