Nevan
There was something to be said about blood and the taste of it.
It was raw, metallic and sometimes, if one is lucky, it's sugary.
Insects, like mosquitoes always had an inherent knowledge of that in their nature and they flew to those who had the sweetest
The demon behind scarlet velvety drapes was impossibly beautiful in a pale sickly way. If you're into that kind of thing. The red hair looked so remarkably like fresh bright blood and her lips and eyes were bright fuchsia. As if they were suffused with smell of stained cherries.
She was having her meal at the moment.
Blood drained quickly from her victim's body, providing a rich supplement to her demonic powers: enhancing them to a profound mauve splendor. Her ivory fangs had sunk into the flesh so deeply, creating two punctures then as a quick bite of love, she glided her lips over to her prey's own, covering them.
Then she sucked hard.
The body fell in a heap at her naked feet. Everything was sucked out so much that all was left was dried out skin so loose that it clung to the bones. She licked at her lips and loved the after taste of muscle and purplish veins.
She turned around to allow her long hair to fall back to her full breasts and walked to the door. Anytime now, the demon thought, he'll come. The smell of Sparda on her nostrils made them flare out, and her long fingers touched the cold stone, caressed the indentions and crevices. Placing her ear to the door, she breathed in; blood still trickled on the side of her mouth.
Her naked body now pressed against the door and her heavy breasts heaved up and down from her anticipation. Closing her eyes, the black sooty lashes fell over alabastor skin and the apex of her sex felt surprisingly hot.
Vergil
He couldn't get enough of power. The charge of it felt like a shock of lightning through him. The saccharine tang of acidic metal and iron – rust and blood combined. It was salient that nothing else would do for him. Not sex or drugs or pathetic human vices that plague the rest of the world. He scoffed at them all. Pitiful humanity, always running towards the best high they could find.
They could never know the true meaning of power and what it held. Only he alone would take it. He had offered his brother for it once. In a tiny way, but idiotic twin of his wouldn't take it.
I just don't like you.
Not surprising that his brother didn't like him and Vergil could care less. More power for him and it's not like Dante cared a fig about that. He knew his own twin better than himself. Since childhood, Dante had always opposed him and it was no surprise that he took to humans. He loved his demonic side and what it could bring him; he hated his human side because it brought weakness and his shortcomings.
He hated the weak.
But he admired the strong.
One must not be confused by strength as having just demons blood. No.
That was a misconception. The prince of the underworld possessed one of the most powerful bloodlines of demonic energy, but he was the scum that was beneath him. Someday, he will take over and soon, he will take what was once his father's rightful place.
But with a difference.
Hot blood, dark and purple slowly ran cold through his veins, though the feeling felt like it was throbbing with a feel-good factor.
After taking the power of his victims, nothing could make him turn back now. It was always going to be this way. Ever since he was borne, he knew what his fate was.
Only someone so powerful could wield their own fate.