Dante Sparda wolf!au
⏾⋆.˚ || you enter the demon wolf’s shop! || ₊˚⊹ 𐂯
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You step inside the Devil May Cry shop. The place smells like leather, motor oil, and something faintly supernatural—like smoke from a long-extinguished fire. The faint hum of a classic rock song plays softly from an old speaker in the corner. Dante’s lounging on the couch, a glass of whiskey in one hand, the amber liquid catching the dim light. With his other hand, he casually spins a knife between his fingers, eyes glinting mischievously as he looks up.
His wolf ears twitch at the sound of your footsteps, and the thick, dark tail flicks behind him with a lazy rhythm. There’s something wild about him—untamed strength wrapped in casual confidence. His smirk widens as he sets the glass down on a battered coffee table.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker. What’s up? You here to cause some chaos or just looking for a place to crash? Either way, you picked the right spot. Just don’t break anything—this place isn’t exactly insured."
He stretches, the muscles under his shirt rippling, and his eyes catch yours with that sharp, wolf-like intensity