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~ V ~

Last Login:
October 17th, 2019

Gender: Male

Age: 41
Country: United Kingdom

Signup Date:
June 19, 2019



08/09/2019 04:51 PM 

Drabble - Acknowledgment

// As always, based on my AU-DMC-verse original version of V  - not liking it, well, no-one froces you to read this, just go away
Inspired by this Fan-fic-artwork picture I found on Pinterest //

This, … is just a dream, is it not?” – There is no other explanation for this situation.
Well, maybe there would be another, if he´d ever consider himself worthy enough to really follow her to Heaven where she surely is residing now – yet all he could see reserved for him as a proper place to finally end was down there on the other side of the scale...
Therefore a dream it had to be.
A lovely, high, clear laugh comes in return,
“It is, somehow, dear. – But still, for now I am here, … here for you.”
The gorgeous blond woman, ageless, radiating warmth and comfort, with eyes light green and clear and deep like a forest lake bathing in the sun reaches out and brushes one of his platin white strands back looking him over with a smile.
Another give-away that this is not the real world – the marks of his demons are gone, entirely. His hair platin white like that of his brother and his former-self – inheritance of their father. His skin fair, even without the scar-, burn-like traces his demons leave when conjured.
“But why? – Why are you here? - Is there something wrong?”
Worry suddenly rises, produces a frown between his brows. A soft finger brushing across it as if she tries to carefully wipe it away.
“Does a mother need a reason to look after her son, darling?” Again, this bell-like chuckle while the words are spoken in mock-indignation.
“Mother?... Y
ou consider yourself my Mother?
Worry gives way to disbelieve when suddenly the tip of a finger gently nudges his chin upwards, forces him to look at her, to allow two pairs of almost similar looking eyes, dark emerald and light green to meet.
“Of course I am your Mother! – Do you not consider yourself my
Son?”, the indignation starts to sound less playful while she regards him with a long stern glance.
“I… to be honest, I do not know… I am just a part….” V starts but is put to silence when she reaches out, wraps her arms round him and pulls him close – just a dream, still it feels almost terrifyingly real, her holding him like that.
“Sssh… of course you are my
Son. You are indeed the person I always wished him to be. You endured, and prevailed and are carrying the legacy your father and I tried to teach you – you and your brother, Dante. – V.”
Her calling him like this, V, not Vergil, no claiming him to be the same being as his former self, the one he´d considered to be her true son - that is more than he´d ever dared to dream of… and yet here they are, inside his dream – Mother and Son reunited, acknowledging each other.
“Mother…”, a genuine, deep, heartfelt smile lightens up his gaunt features, settles within his eyes while he buries his face in the mass of golden hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back, gently returning her embrace.
And eventually a part inside of him he never considered even being there even less to be in need of mending becomes whole again.

07/31/2019 09:52 PM 

Drabble - Why do you not hate me?

// First of all, once again - this (as all the others) is a headcanon drabble written for the AU-/Original version of V of mine and the course of events of the canon-story changed by me in a way to fit MY version of V... whoever reads this and knows the game´s story, yeah, this is different - on purpose! Because I like it THAT way...

Secondly - it is a brief drabble somehow inspired by the video linked down there at the bottom // 

It is one of the rare quiet days at the DMC Agency. Dante and the ladies out minding whatever businesses they got to mind when not hunting down monsters and demons and even Nico wrapped in deep silence, utterly focused, sitting hunched over her workbench downstairs with not even the usual bickering going on between her and Nero whose arm-prosthetic she is fixing. 

Knowing that if he´d interrupt and annoy her too often Nero, the youngest of the bunch, for once wise enough to leave her alone instead found his waiting spot outside on the office´s couch where he is currently studying one of Dante´s magazines… one of those covering mostly not so decently dressed women.
V occupying the chair behind a monstrous oak-desk and on phone-duty for the day is watching him with a thin, rather enigmatic smile… at least until Nero eventually becomes aware of the gaze and lowers his reading.
“What?... What´s so funny?... That?...”, Nero lifts the magazine with the ‘Bikini Girl of the Month’-cover - “… Just having a look what dear olé Uncle is into…”
V´s smile even widens for a heartbeat before an utterly serious expression reconquers his angular features while he is briefly shaking his head.
“No… I… just  was... wondering - why do you not hate me?”
Very obviously that is not the question the young hunter was expecting and as a consequence sits up moved by sincere surprise staring at V as if latter miraculously has sprouted a second head.
“Wha… Wait… - What?... Why the hell should I hate you, V?”
“After all he did to you… abandoning you… mutilating you…  your arm…  - trying to kill you… - this probably is not exactly some father of the month material…” V briefly shrugs, his voice struggling, lined with honest regret and remorse.
Still Nero needs a few moments to understand, but then a mix of confusion and even anger bubbles up and manifests in form of a deep frown between his eyebrows.
“What?... V, you cannot seriously believe that. – That I blame YOU?!… - V, c´m´on if at all you are a victim here, too. – All this happened way before you got a chance to intervene. This was Vergil…”
“I am… I was a part of him… was….”
“YEAH and the good part… unfortunately for you and all of us though the smaller and thoroughly neglected and suppressed part… still the one, as soon as he got the chance, who was willing to give his life to end all the misery he brought upon Dante.. us… - the one who still believes it is his duty to repent for what Vergil did…. – Duh!!…- If anything at all I am thankful…. - Even despite your irritating and unnerving habit to talk in strange quotations half of the time…So, no I do not hate you, never did… now would you please do me a favor and go back to one of your books instead developing such totally absurd ideas, yeah?”
“Hm…” the smile is back, this time radiating heartfelt gratefulness “…Thank you, Nero.” 


07/30/2019 03:53 PM 

Drabble - Being just Oneself

Gone… that feeling of being „connected”, of not being entirely your own, the lingering notion of another presence in the back of his head…  gone.

When V woke after the defeat of Urizen, against all odds, against any of his own expectations and predictions, he felt… - relieved.
Relieved of the lurking presence of “someone else”.
It was a weird dichotomy of feeling whole for the first time and somehow abandoned.

After his awakening as an autonomous individual he still was aware that the two sides of Vergil´s soul were yet linked – The fact that he was one part of a deeply tormented and torn soul, even the smaller part, had been constantly present and perceptible for him.  –
The tugging craving for power, the faint notion of hate and rage lurking underneath all what HE was, underneath his own personality a constant reminder that he was still part of a union … one which needed to be restored in order to make the “whole self” vulnerable again, to enable others to get rid of the overwhelming evil part which, cut loose like that, was near invincible.  
This had been the motivation for him to stay alive and fight one – to make sure that this other much mightier part of his former self was not able to pursue its path of rage and destruction.
The connection he always felt during that time however made him believe that once this one side was destroyed, he would go down with it – and without second thought he had accepted this fact.

Yet now this tugging rage, craving for power and revenge was gone. –
For the first time since his creation he truly felt... free, himself.
And it felt equally strange and breathtakingly good at the same time to be just that, himself.

07/28/2019 08:18 PM 

Character study - Questionnaire for the writer

Questionnaire for the writer -

Stolen from Minzhe, who stole from Somebody --idek. #STOLEN.

- slightly adjusted to fit a non-OC… or semi-OC character

1. What was the reason considering taking up your non-OC-Character in order to RP him?

For ~V~ actually the same reason which always makes me want to take up a ready-made character - They are mostly (game) characters which seem highly intriguing and deep to me, yet sadly get not enough screen-/story-time within their verse-given story. Either die or vanish for any other reason from the story again.
So, indeed – taking up a ready-made-character always is driven by the urge to give a character I consider utterly interesting more story, more character development… to shine and evolve beyond their “official time” - and thus probably turn them in at least partly an OC creation over time.

2. Is there something special about his name?

~ V ~ takes up the “name” V due to his former-self having been named “Vergil”

- When he wakes as as an conscient, sentient being made up of the human part of Vergil´s soul, his remaining humanity, human body, emotions and memories he is a being without own identity and with his only obligation left to die and vanish.
Upon finding Vergil´s volume of poems, a book which held a lot of childhood-memories for V´s former self and which is the only thing Vergil kept since then it gives the dying human creation cause and reason to live on, helps him to remember his identity… - and thus he names himself V according to the capital letter “V” imprinted in the cover of the book.

3. How far past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended his story,  and how far have you adjusted his original story, if at all?

I usually start t story-lines with V after the canon-given events (story events of the game DMC5 in his case) – Which means that the ending of the canon-events need to be adjusted in order to keep him around and existing.
Going on from there though every storyline I create is completely individual, starting from a “blank sheet” and does not influence any other storylines in regards of character development, relationship-creation etc…

4. What is your favorite fact about your character?

It´s basically impossible to limit that down to one single fact. He is intriguing to me in so many aspects.

However what surely makes him “different” to roleplay, at least in comparison to most of the other characters I RPed and/or still play, too is his fragile, weak physical state. The fact that he is not worth a penny and two cents when it comes to direct face-to-face physical fights but basically in terms of almost every demanding or sometimes even totally basic physical inter-/actions … yet has found a way to work round this issue... and is one to not consider it above his pride to ask for help and backup.

This state though challenges me as a writer to constantly keep in mind that he is not one to “simply run there, storm into or knock down doors”.
So it makes him a character who yet will not back down easily due to his profound stubbornness and determination but also one who has to walk the thin line of keeping up his pride and yet give in and rely on others

5. If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be?

Well, one “issue” I already mentioned above – the fact that he physically is a rather weak character but also that he has only a limited amount of “supernatural/demonic”-power at his constant disposal.
So I always have to keep his limits in mind.

Secondly, his principles: he is the embodiment of his former-self´s humanity and conscience and emotions – and thus his motivation and principles are deeply rooted in those aspects. Therefore though he is occasionally crossing morally questionable boarders (like lying) in order to gain possible allies or to make someone cooperate with him, V´s prime mover for what he does, why he puts his life and fragile-health on the line over and over again without hesitation is his determination to cleans the world from evil, evil beings, and to step up from those innocent, weak beings unable to fend for themselves.

6. Is there any significance behind his height?

V stands at 5'7´´, 1,75 meter – though due to his mostly slightly hunched stance, leaning onto his cane he tends to appear smaller.

7. Is there any significance behind his hair color?

V´s original hair color is plain-white, resembling that of his former self. Yet most of the time it appears to be pitch-ebony-black. The color is caused by the pact with the demonic being Nightmare – a non-sentient, automaton, battle-golem. It is concealed within its core-state, the black coloring of V´s hair, when not summoned.

8. Is there any significance behind his eye color?

They resemble those of his mother, yet his are a darker shade of green. 

9. In developing his backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts?

Well, sadly it was no on me to create his backstory – yet surely the most influential fact for V is that originally was not an autonomous individual but part of a deeply corrupted and evil being.That he was the neglected, despised, maltreated part of a tormented, haunted soul.

10. What (if anything) do you relate to within your character or his story?

In fact I think it is V´s determination to never give up, to go against all odds and all in if he considers the cause to be just and worth it.
And his aloof behavior – not based on arrogance, but on the desire to not “bother or be in the way” but also the inability to behave “socially correct” in terms of meaningless small-talk for example.

11. Are they based off of you, in some way?

Well, it would be a lie to deny the fact that there are traces of of me, my own character within all of my characters I write.
But then I believe that hardly any writer  is able to absolutely detach him-/herself from their characters. We all leave traces and pieces of us, our character within them, I am pretty sure of that.

12. Did you know what the character´sexuality would be at the time you started writing them?

Well, in V´s case it is never given as a canon fact – and so I just go with the flow. However, I am never actively looking for sexual-/romantic relationships in my RPs, especially not for V.
Indeed, he is the first character I roleplay I´d consider closest to a-sexual.

His whole backstory has him deeply rooted in emotions and feelings – yet it is actually THIS and the fact that originally V never believed that he´d be around and living for very long which gave me the feeling that “sexuality” in a purely physical way is nothing he concerns himself a lot with.

Yet, same as with my other characters applies here, too - if something feels "natural and fitting" in regarads how a relationship evolves... well, I´d never say never also for V.  - BUT it will need plenty of time.

13. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your character (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)?

In terms of “creating” art – like in picture-collages and mood boards the one challenge I encountered to not let him appear as the brooding, lonely “emo-goth-boy”…. XD

Other than that he is just too much fun in any way.

14. What is something about your OC that can make you laugh?

Nothing in particular – I love his dry, sarcastic yet fine sense of humor.

15. What is something about your character that can make you cry?

His dedication to go on no matter what.
His tenderness and courtesy he shows around those he considers close and which is so contradicting to his adamant even angry determination to root out all evil.

16. Is there some element you regret adding to your character or their story?

Indeed as he is originally part of a verse and thus a ready-made character I took the freedom to strip him and his „pets“ off some of the canon-given abilities (I hate overpowered-characters so „super-imba-abilities have to go).

17. What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC?

That depends on the individual story-line.

18. Is your character inspired by any literary characters/figures?
V is based on the character V of the Devil May Cry Game 5 –

07/19/2019 06:19 PM 

Drabble - Just a Bloody Book!

„Hey! Earth to V… anyone there?! - What´s that with you and that bloody book, anyway… I am pretty sure you  read that at least a thousand times already and can recite every word by heart…”
With a hushed smile V looks up from exactly this “bloody book” in question, slowly closing it and putting it back into the side pocket of his coat. Indeed, it is a constant companion, support – of course not in a physical manner like his cane – and in any case it´s not actually or not only the words, not only its content, which is so important to him, but the book as such.
A mystery, and a dream, should my early life seem.” Unsurprisingly he receives a frown and an obviously unnerved headshake in return… but how to explain this to someone else?

How to explain that this book is his anchor tying him to his own identity, reminding him of the cause, the reason he needs in order to get going.
It´s just a bloody, book – maybe, yet for him it is much more.
It is memory, remembering of who he once was, of who his former self had once been before the corruption of hate, anger and the desire for revenge became so intense that it consumed everything else.
To him it is the reminder why HE is still here  – this love for literature, for the beauty of words, for the expression of emotions had been the last tiny retreat for him, for who he once had been, the human part of an otherwise deeply corrupted, demonic soul, within a mind filled with rage, disdain and the lust for destruction.

Just a “bloody book”? – Not to him. It is the one item which, by accident or on purpose controlled by the strange ways of fate, saved him from being annihilated for good in this one hour supposed to be his final hour of death. When the Demon supposedly won, when the human debris was left to become dust… - when he was about to give in to the numbing, deadly terror, the void left by the revelation of how unwanted and unbearable he truly was to his former self.
It is the item his trembling, dying fingers clutched when he was about to release his last breath – the item so familiar, waking long forgotten memories, providing an identity to a nameless creature, causing a shadow to become a being with the desire to live, someone self-aware, him.

To him it is the constant reminder that the struggle to live on is worth it, that there is a purpose to keep going. That he has a duty to see through, the duty to atone for the wrongdoings of his former self and as far as his powers allow it to ensure that no other innocent beings are harmed by the evil ways of others.
It is more than “just a bloody book”… more than old, crumbled, worn pages and beautifully crafted words… a lot more…

07/11/2019 08:53 PM 

Headcanon Drabble - DMC Verse - Be or not to be

// headcanond drabble, inspired by the Manga explaning V´s first moments as an autonomous being//

Coldness was the first sensation he felt, biting, numbing coldness of crumbling floor tiles; once an eye-catcher of the former foyer of Sparda-Manor… now covered in debris and burned rubble.

- The place was lying in ruins, much like the whole family who once lived here. A loving family it had been, born out of one love not considered possible amongst the stars… - the love a demon knight and a human woman. A deep, pure, honest love, not possessing and crooked how one might assume due to the involvement of a being of the underworld.
Profound in a way that he eventually gave his life to protect his wife, his family – the two hybrid-born boys, twin boys.
However, in the end it was all in vain… his past caught up with him, them… destroyed them and left nothing but ruins. Even the once so innocent love between baby-brothers shattered under the impact of cruel fate, left the only two remaining family members caught in a seemingly endless circle of hate and destruction.

Decades passed by while the older of the two brothers, Vergil, eaten by hatred fueled by the false assumption of having been deliberately abandoned by their dying mother in her attempt to save his little brother, tried everything to destroy his once beloved younger sibbling. Over and over again he caused destruction and ruin in his attempt to gain evermore power, power which should help him to surpass Dante in order to defeat and annihilate him for good.

In the end he saw no other way than to get rid of all he considered a burden, all he claimed was holding him back to become the powerful being he was chosen to be – and so with the strength of his demon sword Yamato Vergil separate power, raw-demonic power and merciless, ruthless craving for revenge from the crumbling human body, the little humanity that was left within him, and even from some of his old fears and nightmares he saw as signs of weakness. All of them weak scraps only worth of perishing, dying, crumbling into dust… yet… -

The naked, gaunt, pale male body, moribund remnants, manlike dregs, the human part of Vergil slightly twitched; ataxic movements like those of a newborn fawn… or dying deer.
It was a miracle that they had not crumbled to dust already the moment they were separated from the hybrid-body, yet what happened next was surely nothing foreseen by the by now cleansed, purely demonic entity – the faint, still stuttering beating of a human heart and beneath messed up strands of white hair a pair of dark green eyes fluttering open.

The coldness was overwhelming, but even more so was the impact of boundless fear, terror even, upon witnessing what was happening right in front of him – the obscenely bizarre creation act of a demon lord – and the realization of his own powerlessness.

Then again the gruesome scene helped to trigger the instinctive escape reflex inherent to every living being and though shaking knees and cramping legs refused to carry the meager body the just recently originated human form scrambled desperately on all four to get out of the way of the raging, monstrous entity, his contradicting side, the much greater demonic part of the soul of his former self.

Painstakingly slow the shivering male managed to bring some distance between himself and the still growing demon until he collapsed in the cover of what seemed to be the mostly charred remains of a bookshelf. Together with the almost drained, little strength he had left also the little, fleeting flame of desire to live was nearly gone once again and ever so fast.

His only duty left was the duty to die – to not be in the way of the creation of something bigger, of something mighty evil and powerful.
The pathetic hull of crumbling human flesh paralyzed by emotions, conscience, memories was obsolete, powerless, doomed to vanish.
Conscious yet without cause the frail human figure curled up like a fetus, about to give in to what deemed inevitable fate, waiting for this human heart to fail for good, to stop beating, to dissolve into dust.

That was the very moment when his fingertips accidentally brushed over something feeling familiar, the spine of a book.
In contrary to the icy stone beneath it felt almost warm, welcoming and instinctively his fingers closed round it, pulled it close enough that his blurred vision allowed him to noticed what it was – indeed a familiar sight, brown leather with faint golden inlays, well-thumped… together with the sensation of the soft surface this discovery shattered walls of repression and allowed memories believed to be long forgotten to flood in –
- Memories of two boys chasing each other in playful squabbling, brothers pretending to not having noticed the mess muddy boots caused downstairs in the hallway, having each others back while sitting through another afternoon of being grounded inside thanks to their unrelenting mischievous nature, brothers curled up against each other cozily on a soft couch while a familiar voice was reading poems from exactly this book -

A deep, soulful sigh escaped the sunken chest of the human remains – the cause, there it was… reason…. reason for living… - an identity, being more than just unneeded, unwanted debris.
There it was back, hot and burning, the desire to be, the will to live and with it the terror of being wiped out right here, right now by the product of his own overpowering contradicting side.

While trembling fingers were clinging to the small volume as if was fit to serve as a shield against all evil this one all-encompassing wish broke its way, was not restrained in thought any more.
“I don´t want to die”

[ This blog post is viewable to friends only ]

07/08/2019 01:09 PM 

Mini-Drabble: Prompt:... be dead by now

„V! Where the hell have y´ been?!“
The always so upbeat voice of Nico, the little Jack of all Trades tinkerer responsible to keep the rather vast and unique weapons arsenal of the Devil May Cry Crew in top shape, was marked with an unusual streak of worry. - Worry which expanded to full blown consternation the moment she looked up from her workbench and noticed the meager figure heavily leaning against the doorframe, wheezing, doing his best to muster a thin ironic grin… though failing miserably.

“Actually, I thought I would be dead by now...”,
The accustomed soft throatiness of V´s voice had been replaced by pained croakiness while the words dropped in a forced staccato entirely void of the usual even slightly exaggerated chanted drawl.
“Goddamit V! - What the frig happened?!?…” loud clattering accompanied the shocked exclamation when the young woman dropped her screwdriver in order to scud over to the door and offer a supporting shoulder.
Her normally rather goofy demeanor totally wiped out she carefully, almost tenderly brushed over grayish skin lined with the most bizarre pattern of cracks and rips very much like an old painting which was about to crumble away.
“And just for the records… ‘I thought I would be dead by now...’ is not the answer I wanted to hear, neither reassuring nor explanatory… Com´on, let´s get that thin ass of y´rs onto that couch...”
It was almost pathetic how little effort it did take her to drag the rail-thin hunter across the hallway and into the Agency´s office even though he indeed was about a head taller than her.
“And now, stay put!… I´ll be back in two ticks gettn´y´someting that brings y´back on yr´feet, Shakespeare.”

07/04/2019 08:09 PM 

Drabble - Prompt: Crawling in the Dark

„A trap…“ the last two words flashed like a belated warning sign before some invisible brute force hit him, literally knocked all wind out of him, causing a breathless, silent scream of agony rise towards the cave-ceiling glinting sickly with some blackish, sticky wetness while the frail unconscious body heavily hit the floor.

When he woke again V immediately noticed that something was wrong, the feeling of aloneness and numbing weakness overwhelming.
No need to even open his eyes to know the cause, the little demonic power he had left, he needed to hold together his fragile human body, was gone… so were his demonic familiars.
Immediate visible proof was received once he managed to blink away the looming unconsciousness: unruly bangs of white hair framing his pale features, the black color, his golem´s concealment vanished and where until recently the marks of Griffon and Shadow had been covering his upper body and arms there was nothing more than reddish, pale, swirly scar-like patterns while his whole skin was sporting a sickly greyish coloring, flaky and lined with cracks causing him to look like an ancient, crumbling porcelain doll.

Ponderously he picked himself up into a half kneeling-half crawling position. His movement though apparently got the attention of… something….
Suddenly deep, soft and yet in a terrible way distorted chuckling filled the cave like prison, then a rumbling voice sounding like rocks hit and grinded against another.
“Oh… Look who is awake… and too weak to stand! – Little, pale worm!… where´s your strength now? Powerless like a toddler – Left alone crawling in the dark! What a pitiful sight you are!”

“What… did you do to… my familiars… my… friends?!” – the dark, typically already rather hushed sounding voice now was noticeably shaking, yet still marked with a distinct streak of anger and defiance.
“Your Friends?! – We are talking about demon pets, don´t we?!”, open mocking surprise was hurled at him in return.
“Maybe… still... friends” V was desperately fighting the increasingly overwhelming numbness.
“No worries, I´ll put them to good use!”
Folly is an endless maze – Tangled roots perplex her ways”, words barely audible this time, spoken only to himself...
“What was that?!”
“They…. are bound... to me… without use to … anyone else…- When I… perish… they will, too…” V explained not without noticeable amusement and satisfaction even despite his terrible condition.
“You are lying!” sudden anger flared up within the bodiless voice.
“If... you say... so…” tiny chuckles were enough to bring V back down on all fours panting, “Still… they... are useless... dangerous even…to you … only … follow my…lead…”
“Again! Liar! – If you believe you can talk me into giving them back and releasing you. Dream on, little worm… They are mine now and if they obeyed such weakling, they happily will follow my lead!”
Rolling laughter was drowning out the hushed response.
“I… dare... you…”
– Unconsciousness regained its full, merciless grip – yet while the mangled body collapsed back down to the cold, black cave-floor a thin smile broke the pained expression and lingered.

07/02/2019 06:03 PM 


//Drabble inspired by the gif at the bottom//

The nocturnal atmosphere within in the city was tense and thick with humidity left behind by the latest thunderstorm which only recently passed through. Heat lighting still was illuminating the eastern horizon, ever so often breaking the velvety blackness of an overcast southern night sky with whitish flickering.
Regardless, the eagerly anticipated relief would not set in as despite the brief but heavy downpoot temperatures did not really drop noticeably; instead the air almost was touchable now, sticking to the skin, causing everyone to feel itchy and uneasy. After all, the Louisianan summer kept its broiling grip tight and merciless and whoever was able fled the city, its narrow, crowded streets and the lingering heat.   
Many of those doomed to remain did seek for at least temporary soothing in one of the numerous bars, sipping cold drinks trying to pass sleepless nights in the company of fellow sufferers and so even now, far past midnight a lot of streets and squares along the riverbank were packed with people.

Nothing of this buzz yet concerned the slender figure walking down a narrow side-alley, deserted and dark far off those public places. The stride though slightly limping and accompanied by the faint clicking of a metal cane did imply unusual purposefulness considered the late hour.
However, turning another corner the nightly wanderer was forced to stop right in his tracks by three dubious looking figures.
“Hey – took a wrong turn, vampire?!”, slightly aggressiveness resounded in the mockery lined with a heavy local accent.
And indeed, given the time and place, and especially the whole appearance of the addressed the moniker was not too farfetched. – Rail-thin gauntness barely hidden by black pants at least one size too large and a loose fitting black t-shirt, pale skin covered all over in what looked like the most intricate tattoos from fingertips to chin while pitch black hair framed and partly hid angular features made the person in question indeed appear to be one of the many tourist goth weirdos attracted by the gloomy, spooky, voodoo history of the city.
And yet nothing could be further from the truth.
A thin smile appeared, seemingly unfazed by the rather threatening ambush while the response was delivered in a dark, hushed even a bit throaty sounding voice marked by unhidden amusement.
Mock on, mock on; 'tis all in vain! You throw the sand against the wind - and the wind blows it back again.”

“Man, are you soft in the head or som´thn?!”
Not only the complete absence of fear but even more the utterly strange response caused the three dark figures to exchange some puzzled glances before the tallest of them, surely some kind of “leader”, regained his posture.
“Y´know what this is, right?!… Just be a good emo-boy and show us what y´ve got! Hope it´s good enough for us to let you pass, freak” – all of them took one further step towards V, certainly another attempt to appear threatening… and yet once again the reaction did not implied that any of this was producing the intended effect.

“Be careful what you wish for”, soothing and calm, still containing noticeable amusement the answer was accompanied by a tiny shrug. Then, before the thugs were able to revert to more drastic measure, it was on them to freeze while they watched in horror how some of the tattoos along the arms suddenly appeared to be moving, running along thin muscles and visible veins like black snakes made of ink until leaving their confinement within the skin, exploding into fine black dust only to accumulate, forming moving shades, shades which within seconds gained the shape of a massive black panther announcing his release by a thunderous roar at their supposed to be victim´s feet.
Simultaneously flapping filled the night and a swirl of black and blue feathers literally dropped out of the nightly air.
“So, maybe you would like to reconsider your attitude, gentlemen?” The male´s soft, hushed voice stood in stark contrast to the hoarse croaking form above.
“Need some backup, V? – Naughty boys asking to be taught a lesson?!”
Had the whole “appearance-act” not yet been enough the fact that the huge, strange looking bird was able to speak did one last thing to make the three muggers turn on their heels and with expressions of sheer terror plastered to their faces seek refuge in flight.
You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.”, V nodded briefly while watching the three men hastily vanish round the next corner. Moments later the two demon-animals disappeared to become once again concealed within the marks of their Master, hidden from plain sight yet always present and protecting.  

A short while later the colorful, handwoven curtain, covering the front door of one of the small historic houses lining the boarder between city and swamp was pulled open.
“Come in, come in… I was already expecting you, bway. – I hope you did not encounter any trouble on your way?”, a hoarse, deep, ageless female voice greeted him when he stepped into the twilight of the room. Next to all kind of strange looking curiosities candles were sitting on shelves lining bright, yellowish walls and the only source of flickering light.
“Nothing exceeding my capability to handle it”, V smirked while taking a seat, following the beckoning gesture towards one huge monstrosity of a battered dark-green velvet couch at the far end of the room



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