In the distance, Sapphire floated in the sky like a storm incarnate—her flaming hair dancing in the wind, a demented smile curving her lips like a blade about to be unsheathed.
Vergil watched her with a slight smile, his eyes half-closed, as if admiring a work of art—dangerous, unpredictable, but magnificent.
"Sometimes I forget..." he muttered, almost to himself, "...how strong she gets when she's eager for a fight."
Sapphire spread her arms wide, spinning in the air with the excitement of a goddess of war in the midst of a festival of chaos. Then her voice boomed like sarcastic thunder in the sky.
"Hey, Sepphirothy! Why didn't you attack straight away, huh? Were you afraid of the ice queen?" — the taunt came with a mocking laugh.
