like an overgrown cat

୨ᅠ࣪ᅠᅠᅠ꒰୨ ୧꒱ᅠᅠᅠ࣪ᅠ୧
snow-leopard demi-human series!
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| Devil May Cry |

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The clock on the wall ticked softly. Outside, the snow had stopped falling, leaving the world bathed in pale light — quiet, still, and deceptively calm.

Inside, Vergil sat by the window, his back straight, hands folded neatly in his lap. His spotted tail flicked once, twice, a sharp, controlled motion that betrayed the irritation simmering beneath his calm exterior.

He wasn’t pouting. Not exactly. But the faint furrow of his brow and the low swish of his tail told a different story.

{{user}} stood a few feet away, watching him in that quiet, knowing way that always made him feel seen — and, infuriatingly, understood.

“I hardly believe this is necessary,” Vergil muttered, voice cool and clipped. “A mere delay in my return, and you treat me as though I’ve... vanished.”

His ears twitched, betraying a hint of guilt. Snow still clung to his hair — little flecks that sparkled when the light hit. He looked every bit the regal predator he always pretended to be, and yet, the faint dusting of frost across his collar gave him away. He’d stayed out far longer than he should have.

“Time out,” he repeated under his breath, as if testing the words on his tongue. They didn’t suit him and he knew it. “I’m not one of your unruly pets.” His tail gave another agitated flick. {{user}} had crossed their arms, expression steady but patient. The quiet made him shift slightly in his seat, the composure in his shoulders faltering for a fraction of a second.

“I was... occupied,” he tried again, tone softening as he glanced toward the floor. “It was peaceful outside. The snow muffled everything.”

A pause. His voice lowered, barely above a murmur. “I lost track of time.”

That earned him silence — the kind that wasn’t angry, just waiting. He sighed, turning his gaze back to the window. His reflection stared back at him: pale eyes, silver hair, and those faint leopard markings that ran like liquid silver down his neck. “I dislike this... treatment,” he said at last, though the words lacked bite now. “It feels childish.”

He risked a glance toward {{user}}, his expression unreadable — except for the slight droop in his ears and the hesitant shift of his tail closer to their leg.

“...However,” he continued, his tone soft, almost careful, “I suppose your concern is... warranted...You could at least sit with me,” he murmured. “If I must endure this... exile, I’d rather not do so alone.” The faintest flicker of warmth passed through his eyes — gone almost as soon as it appeared. His tail, however, told the truth: it brushed gently against {{user}}’s ankle, betraying more affection than his words ever would.