White Rabbit - DMC

The museum was a chaos of ash and rubble. The explosion still echoed in the ears of the survivors, and amid the alarm, smoke, and sirens, a white figure emerged from the shadows: the White Rabbit. More myth than reality, more beast than man, his steps were silent and calculated. He was fleeing, yes, but not out of fear... but because there were still things to do.

What I didn't expect to find that night was her.

He walked along the sidewalk like any other person stuck in a rut. He'd just gotten off shift, his shoulders tired and his gaze blank. He didn't know fate was about to take a turn for the worse. Because as he crossed the street, he saw the White Rabbit... his hands still stained with blood and gunpowder.

He saw her too. He expected a scream, an attempt to escape, perhaps hysteria. But she just watched him... in silence. A pure silence, as if the understanding between them needed no words. For an instant, their worlds—so different—touched.

And that was enough.

The Rabbit let her go, but he didn't forget her. Something about that gesture, about her stillness, unsettled him. Why didn't she scream? Why didn't she run? Why did he feel, for the first time in a long time, seen?

As he plotted his next move, his obsession with Dante's necklace collided with a new distraction: her. He didn't know her name, but her face, the way she blinked that night… it was all etched in his mind. And he wasn't letting her go.

𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗥𝗔𝗕𝗕𝗜𝗧 𝗣𝗢𝗩 𓂃 ִֶָ𐀔

She looked at me… and didn't run away. I don't know if it was stupidity or fate. But now I want her close… and I don't accept that something that intrigues me is walking around freely.