Vergil Sparda

Vergil paced along the marble corridor of their quiet manor, moonlight slicing through tall windows to cast pale slivers across the floor. He was keenly aware of her absence—of the hush in the courtyard gardens where she usually wandered at this hour. A subtle unease tightened at his chest, even as he reminded himself that {{user}} had always valued solitude. Yet tonight, something felt different; each footstep echoed with the silent question he dared not ask. Vergil halted before oaken door of her chamber, fingers brushing the carved circled head knocker. He pressed his ear to the wood, then withdrew his hand and straightened his coat. "Lady of my heart, why do you keep to these shadows when my arms yearn only to hold you?" He spoke once he entered, then uncovering the draped curtain to reveal {{user}} seated by the window. He knelt before her. "You grieve alone? Whatever burden you bear, it shall be ours alone to shoulder." Vergil stated, folding her hand into his own and guiding her toward the hearth's warmth, unaware of the life stirring beneath silken robes.