I'll have you know my kind of humor is a finely cultivated blend of observational wit and too much time spent hanging around your uncle. If you've got your complaints, you know where to take them.
Developing your Devil Trigger does involve working on your endurance, and that's NOT me making any sort of comment on any other type of performance you might have anxieties about.
Well then let's go hand to hand and you can show me what we're working with. I'm not as much of a powerhouse as the others, you might find yourself lasting longer if you're not putting out as much energy trying to get a hit on me.
Nero, I'm a full-blooded demon who got up again after taking a direct hit from Mundus. I'm not afraid of getting punched.
[Yeah okay so she kind of snuffed it, but details. She got better!]
You punch really fucking hard? Great. Put it to the test and punch harder. You're not the only one who's looking to get stronger. It's not a real workout until someone's bleeding anyway.
dude you can't fuckin lead with a line like that!! You could just say "Im gonna spar with Vergil today" or whatever and not make it sound like something happened!!
( The damn idiot suggested he contact Mizu if he needed to get in touch with him which is the stupidest thing ever and doesn't help trying to keep his brother's "secret" from his kid. Seriously. Sometimes his brother is a moron without even realizing he's being one. )
good luck with that. pretty sure he'd rather a carrier pigeon for contact than these things.
[On some November evening, when Nero is the first one home, he will likely notice an immediate change in the apartment. Left on the kitchen table where Vergil typically leaves behind notes on his whereabouts whenever he leaves too early morning for Dante or Nero to have stirred yet, or later in the day when no one is home for him to tell, sits a small stack of books resting atop a deep blue lacquer box. The stack of books is comprised of four books in total, all borrowed from Kuma Lisa's library: Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu, and Dracula by Bram Stoker. Moving the books aside will reveal a rose engraved on the box's lid, possibly revealing its contents before Nero even has a chance to properly open it. But whether or not the "surprise" of its contents is spoiled or not, opening the box, Nero will find Blue Rose nestled within and no different or worse for wear than the last time he held her.]
[There is no note about where any of this came from, Vergil having deemed it unnecessary, but there is a note nearby to everything written in Vergil's hand that suggests whoever ends up home first, may want to sort out dinner independently. (There is a specific line of the note dedicated to Dante alone that there are still a few leftovers in the fridge that need eating before he even so much as thinks of ordering pizza, and no, strawberry sundae does not count as a meal.) Otherwise, if they are willing to wait, Vergil promises he will not return empty-handed. He is in Wintermute for the afternoon and better part of the evening. So, while he may not return at the exact time for the meal, he will still bring something home with him.]
[Nero briefly pages through the books. They're all thick and look a little difficult, but nowhere near as difficult as the frankly, archaic poetry he's been reading of Vergil's. Man, he never thought he'd do this much reading in his life. But his fingers brush over the title of Little Women and he thinks of his mother, and now he is bound and determined to see them all through. To know her as well as these books can allow him to. The same reason he's been reading Vergil's poetry.
The box puzzles him though. The rose doesn't tip him off, and he's completely shocked when he opens the lid. For a moment he can't believe she's real. But when he lifts the revolver, the heft, the gleam of the barrel, the way the action and the chamber feel, and the little engraved rose on the handle make it unmistakable. It's his precious Blue Rose, and even two little boxes of ammo for her. Somehow.
Well. Not "somehow." It doesn't take a detective to figure out that Vergil did this. He found Nero's gun... or more likely, summoned it as he did the Yamato. The difficulty of this given the way Spoons are earned here is not lost on him-- nor is the fact that Vergil sneers at the use of firearms, and would have no other reason to do this beyond the fact that it would mean a lot to Nero.
Yeah. He tears up a little bit. Stares back and forth from the engraved box to Vergil's bookshelves. How do you make something like this up to a guy like that? If confronted all he'll do is brush it off and say something like, "it would behoove you to be at your best and most familiar level of armament in case of a combat situation... blah blah blah" or "I do not accept your gratitude, it is the least I can do, I am your father and it is in my paternal obligation, blah blah blah..."
Fuck. He's gonna have to think about this. Apart from the obvious gratitude, this is going to take a bit of planning... and maybe a bit of learning how Spoons work.
Though when Vergil does appear later that night, Nero is still awake. There's some loud, raucous cheering and hubbub coming from his relic, propped up on the table, and he's hard at work cleaning and tuning up his gun. There's an open beer bottle on the table and he is halfway through eating a monster grilled cheese sandwich on a plate, with a side of potato chips and yellow mustard slathered all over them.]
Edited (NO DON'T LOOK HTML) 2024-11-24 01:12 (UTC)
[Vergil returns home through a portal that closes behind him as he steps through near the entryway to the apartment. Although not entirely covered in snow, there are still traces of it in his hair and on his clothes, and clinging to his boots. He stamps his boots free of the snow on the mat as best he can before toeing them off altogether. As he does so, he looks up at Nero where he's made himself comfortable at the table. He says nothing, leaving Nero be to watch whatever is on his relic, and so that he can get a little more settled himself.]
[Vergil sets down a bag and drink tray before peeling off his coat and hanging it up. It has not had nearly enough time to dry just yet from his time out sparring with Mizu, as the rest of his clothes have not. Yamato is left near to where his jacket hangs before Vergil picks up the bag and drink tray. Crossing the apartment and pulling out the chair opposite to Nero, Vergil sets the bag in the seat rather than on the table. Instead, he uses the remaining free space on the table from Nero's things to place the drink tray. Nero may spot the pawprint on the center of the bag or on the cups that speaks to the origins of the food from the dog-run food cart in Wintermute.]
Dante isn't home yet? [he asks, gently twisting one cup to look at its stickers for labels, and then another before putting pulling it from the tray. He sets it down near Nero's plate and drink for easy access. Vergil has brought fresh hot chocolate for each of them. The one specifically brought for Nero is additionally spiced with cinnamon and chili pepper. Vergil's question is less seeking confirmation that Dante isn't here, and more whether or not Nero knows where his wayward uncle has wandered off to this time.]
[He pulls free his own hot chocolate, setting it on the table.]
[Nero glances behind him when he senses the portal-- before he even hears the door creaking. He smiles, then turns back to the table to pretend like he wasn't. It's kind of hilariously humanizing hearing Vergil stomp the snow off his boots and shuffling around with an armful of goodies.
He's busy pushing a cleaning cloth through Blue Rose's chambers, one by one, so he doesn't look up again until the hot chocolate lands beside his plate. Then he smiles more broadly, and makes a motion indicating Vergil should sit at the table, if he wasn't already planning to.
The relic is playing a wrestling video. A man has thrown another man headfirst into a metal garbage can and is now stomping on it, to the screaming delight of the crowd.]
Nope. Haven't seen him. Probably off at a club somewhere making passes at girls. [Or eating pizza, but that goes without saying.]
[Vergil grunts his acknowledgment of Nero's answer for Dante's whereabouts, his disapproval only really slipping out in the way his nose wrinkles slightly. He opens the bag and pulls out a few sealed containers, all of which are shaped something like dog bowls more than traditional takeout containers. The Wandering Dog is nothing if not dedicated to its aesthetic. Vergil doesn't bother with opening any of them for the moment, leaving them in a neat stack on the table for now.]
Think nothing of it. [He picks up the bag and heads over to the kitchen proper with the remaining hot chocolate. That seems to be all Vergil will say on the matter of the gun being returned as he says,] There's curry and rice in here for you and your uncle.
[Vergil doesn't bother with indicating a time for them to eat it. For all he knows, they'll get hungry in the middle of the night and chow down on it, opt to save it for breakfast, or make a lunch out of it. Either way, he knows it won't go to waste. Vergil opens the fridge and crouches down to place the remaining containers inside. He pulls the last hot chocolate from the fridge, frowning at it a little before also placing it in the fridge. He doesn't say anything, but he's a little disappointed Dante isn't home to enjoy it fresh, but he supposes it will reheat well enough. Vergil stands back up, closing the fridge door with a foot as he puts the drink tray inside the bag. Both end up in the trash.]
[For once, Nero doesn't belabor the point or try to make Vergil acknowledge his feelings on the matter. He takes the quick and insistent brush-off of the gratitude as a sign that he shouldn't keep harping on it. Maybe Vergil will be more comfortable simply moving on from it.
That's fine with him. Actions speak louder than words, after all... and he's had all evening to himself to think about what actions he could speak with here.]
Oh, nice! Curry's awesome. Place up in Wintermute?
[Having filled up on grilled cheese and chips, he will be saving that curry for later... maybe tomorrow. They say it tastes better the next day anyway. Kyrie's curry goes from "delicious" the night of to "fuckin' sublime" as leftovers.
He will be drinking that hot chocolate now, though. Taking a moment to enjoy the scent, he perks up at cinnamon and chili pepper. Then he very gingerly tests a tiny drop to make sure he doesn't burn the shit out of his tongue on that lid. Done that more than a few times before.]
The Wandering Dog. It's a food cart primarily in Wintermute that occasionally travels around Folkmore. It is my understanding the menu changes to accommodate the regions. Hot food and drinks where it is colder, cold food and drinks where it is hotter, [Vergil says as he retrieves a plate and spoon for himself. The food cart may have its theme and remain quite dedicated to it, but he's not particularly interested in eating out of essentially dog bowls. He sets both down near to his stack of containers before sitting down himself. There's a slight pause at Nero's second question before he answers it.] I did.
[Normally, Vergil would not opt to remain in his slightly damp clothes, but he is hungry enough to postpone the shower and change of clothes until after he's had a chance to eat. He opens the first container, one that is slightly smaller than the other two and places it where Nero can reach if he's interested. Lamb dumplings encircle a dipping sauce that Vergil also removes the lid.]
[For a brief moment, Vergil thinks to leave it there. He answered the question and the specifics really don't matter. But then as he's removing the lids to his rice and curry, he wonders if perhaps that was Nero attempting to invite him into conversation. Tentatively, he fleshes out his answer a little bit more.]
I was sparring with Mizu. So, it was actually worse a little while ago. [Even with Vergil holding back to the extent that he does, Mizu and Vergil's sparring sessions are still intense, and snow ends up everywhere. Which is really no trouble during their duels, but afterward... Well, Vergil doesn't need to fish for excuses to linger about after they spar and she has recovered now, but the lack of dry clothes does have a tendency to shorten their time together a bit. He will have to remember to bring a change of clothes for next time. He spoons out some of the rice onto his plate.] I was able to dry off some while he was recovering before returning home.
[...And while they spent some time together. Soaked clothes shortened their time, but didn't prevent it. Not entirely. Vergil, however, leaves that detail of it out, glancing at Nero. It occurs to him that now could possibly be a time to clarify his relationship with Mizu. Nero and he talked through some of the more challenging elephants in the room that it doesn't necessarily feel quite as low of a priority as it had before, and while the boy didn't exactly have a right to know, he may appreciate knowing some piece of Vergil's life without having to ask for it. But... Vergil decides to leave it be for now. It doesn't feel yet like the right time to mention it.]
Have you been at that all evening? [he asks instead, nodding to Blue Rose.]
Cute. I like the theming. [Nero gestures to the shape of the bowls. He also has to assume by now that the proprietor is an actual dog, so... that's a cute mental image, a dog stirring a big bowl of curry.
He nods at the mention of sparring Mizu. Somehow that doesn't surprise him. He can't think of any other reason, really, for Vergil to go standing around in the snow. It's probably nice and quiet there, but even an introvert like Vergil has to have his limits as far as the weather goes. Nero off-handedly wonders how many times Mizu and Vergil stabbed one another. Or attempted to, anyway.
He'd kind of like to watch sometime. Though it feels a little hypocritical given his feelings on the other way around...
As Vergil settles in, he tilts Blue Rose to show him exactly what he's doing.]
Yeah. Didn't get the chance to clean her up with everything that happened... poor thing had blood and gunk all over her insides. [A gesture at his cleaning cloth pile.] Got her nice and clean now though. If anything needs shooting, she's ready.
You shouldn't have much need of her, [Vergil says, setting aside the emptied container of rice, trading it for the container of curry to be added to his plate. Vergil's wording phrasing of how much use he's likely to see of Blue Rose is intentional, too. It is not as though there are never any threats whatsoever in Folkmore, but rather instead, the vast majority are ones that Nero will need to seek out for himself. It's been an adjustment for Vergil, and so he imagines the same must be true for Nero as well even if it's less dramatic of an adjustment.] But it's good you're prepared in the event that you might.
[Internally, Vergil winces at the words that leave his mouth. The last time he offered overt praise, Nero rolled his eyes and unequivocally rejected it. Vergil could not particularly understood why Nero seemed to take such offense to it beyond perhaps its coupling with a joke that was not particularly well-received was the cause of it even with more time to think upon it. Still, even in the absence of such a joke, Vergil cannot help but abruptly avert his gaze to his plate rather than on Nero to see his reaction. He's been exceptionally careful not to comment on what Nero does since then to avoid the previous misstep, and here he's gone and thoughtlessly made a comment. He pushes past it as quickly as he can in an attempt to sidestep anything his words might have kicked up.]
I'm sorry I could not secure more ammunition for you right away. I know it would likely feel better to put her to some use sooner rather than later.
[Vergil imagines this is the longest Nero has gone without Blue Rose since he's had the gun. So, Vergil assumes Nero would be satisfied with just messing around with the gun in some light target practice to reconnect with the weapon and test that everything truly is in working order in the absence of getting real use out of Blue Rose right away.]
[Nero is completely oblivious to Vergil's stresses about praising him. The last time when he did roll his eyes at Vergil, it was because at the time he found it patronizing and a little silly a thing to praise him for. He has, however, completely forgotten that exchange ever happened.
He shows absolutely no sign of being even slightly flustered or put-off.]
That's all right. I'm sure she was expensive. And I'm hoping I can work past the need for ammo anyway... or at least practice. [He glances up.] You've seen what Dante does with Ebony and Ivory, right? Or what you do with the... [He is not really sure what Vergil calls them, but he pantomimes the sharp, flying blades of energy that he conjures.]
[Internally, there is a sigh of relief that Vergil appears to have managed to divert the conversation further along with only a minor acknowledgment of the praise he offered Nero.]
Mirage blades, [Vergil supplies, helpfully.] Although my blades are not the same as his bullets.
[Some of that is out of distaste for firearms that Vergil cannot allow the comparison to be without any challenge. That certainly cannot be ignored. But Vergil's mirage blades serve as more than just mere ranged attacks as Dante's bullets often serve for him. Although to that end, with Dante's (unnecessary) advice about not being too hard on Nero and their shared hesitation in engaging too much on the matter of fighting with one another just yet, Vergil tentatively offers a bit of advice.]
...It took me some practice to summon more than one blade at a time. And I'm sure the same was true for Dante and his bullets. It may be of some benefit to see if he will allow you to practice with Ebony or Ivory to start before trying it with Blue Rose.
[He'd like to ask how they're different, but he predicts the answer is going to be extremely long and complex and he won't understand shit of it anyway. Not right now, at least, when he's still so new to all of this and how to use it.
Vergil offers a tip though, and Nero thinks on it for a moment.]
I can do something... similar. Throw a little extra punch into every bullet. I imagine it won't be all that different to do it from scratch, without the bullets.
[Which leads him to circle back around to that other question again...]
How is it different than Dante's bullets? Could you show me how to do it sometime?
[Vergil nods his agreement that Nero's charged shots provide him with an adequate starting point. It's certainly far better than what Vergil started with when he was a boy. He doesn't answer Nero's questions immediately, not even after swallowing his bite of food, as he tries to think of a succinct way of putting it that Nero may understand and grappling with how to answer the second.]
You might think of Dante's bullets as a more...rudimentary version of my blades. His bullets pierce and damage, but I am able to do more than just that with my blades.
[It feels the best way Vergil can put it without outright calling Dante out for not developing his demonic abilities as far as he most likely could if he willed it. Not that his bullets could possibly do everything Vergil uses his blades for given there's no real good way for a bullet to serve as a defensive option. But just as Vergil is able to pin and more successfully launch his targets at will, Dante could likely do the same if he put his mind to it.]
[As to the second question...]
Whatever you wish to learn, I am willing to guide you in learning.
[Vergil hopes Nero understands his meaning beyond mere agreeableness to serve as a teacher. He doesn't anticipate that Nero will adopt many of Vergil's techniques. Vergil is more based in precision and speed in his technique rather than packing a powerful punch as Dante often does. If he had to guess from his small sampling of Nero's style, he's going to inherently lean more towards his uncle's way of doing things than Vergil. But if Vergil's techniques can be applied in a way that works for Nero, he's more than happy to contribute to his learning.]
[When Nero feels ready to learn, of course. Although, Vergil leaves that part unspoken to avoid making Nero feel pushed in any direction.]
[He doesn't look... openly puzzled by that answer, but it definitely raises more questions along with his eyebrow. What exactly can Vergil do with a mirage blade that isn't "piercing and damaging?" Is that not what blades are for? He objects slightly to the word "rudimentary" applied to Dante's gunplay too. Whatever his uncle does with Ebony and Ivory is so flashy and effective that calling it anything less than skilled seems to be selling him short. And he can admit, he's a little defensive about Dante when it comes to this sort of thing.
It's not that anybody is worse than anybody else. They just fight differently. Vergil's precision and expertise. Dante's rapid-fire flash and pizzaz. And Nero's... one big bang after another. Sounds about right.]
Well, let's go out and try it sometime. I'm sure I can do it. Channeling my energy was like the third thing I ever learned how to do with it.
[Vergil nods slightly in agreement. Although he keeps it to himself, he is curious to see how much Nero is able to do without changing his form. It's possible that it may be impossible for him to do certain things like manifesting a spectral form of Yamato without being in devil trigger, but perhaps he might be able to channel his energy enough to manifest projectiles in the absence of a weapon as Vergil is able to without needing to rely on his other demonic form.]
Start with your bullets with Dante first. Once you come to possess some mastery over that, we can talk. You will have a better sense of both what comes naturally to you and your current limits by then.
[Which, in turn, will provide them with the opportunity to figure out which of those limits can be circumvented or pushed past, and which Nero will simply need to accept and strategize around. To that end, there is a slight hesitation before Vergil adds,]
...I would like to see if we can expand upon your endurance. You possess a great amount of strength, but it concerns me that you run the risk of burning yourself out quickly. [And under certain circumstances that could spell disaster for Nero. A big attack is only as effective if it is both able to eliminate the opposition and leave Nero still standing.] If you are to push beyond what you can currently do, you will need that greater endurance to accomplish it the way I anticipate you will want to do it.
[Vergil tries to frame it in the most direct, matter-of-fact manner that he can to avoid making it seem a criticism of Nero's style or way of doing things. If anything, Vergil intends for it to be the opposite, and more a recognition that what he wants to accomplish is going to require a lot of him and likely push him harder than he's ever been thus far. And he knows Nero possesses the will to wield his strength as effectively as he can. There is no doubt in that. But developing that endurance... It's easily the hardest thing to develop. Both Sparda twins have struggled with it in their own journeys to master their demonic abilities even if there's a degree to which both of them (yes, even Dante) now make it look effortless.]
[There's a bit of an irritable sigh at that, for some reason. But it's not as though he's actually irritated. It just feels like there's ten thousand things he's behind on without even being aware of them. Every day he discovers more, and has to figure out what damn order it all goes in.
Yeah, yeah... Dante told him not to compare himself to him and Vergil. He's younger, less experienced, and a whole fraction less powerful to boot. But it's awfully hard not to feel hopelessly outclassed no matter what he tries.
He can't really argue about the endurance though. His expression might be a bit sour but he does try not to sound too prickly in his response.] Yeah. I know. Physically, I'm fine, but I can't Devil Trigger more than a minute.
[The expression doesn't come as much of a surprise, nor does the...terseness of the reply. It's why Vergil doesn't believe he's necessarily said anything particularly wrong or crossing a line, nor does he take it as a personal offense. Vergil also knows he wouldn't react much better in his youth if the topic of conversation ever came up. If anything, Vergil's reaction would be worse and even harder on himself than Nero appears to be towards himself.]
That is the most direct way, yes. But the more you develop your repertoire, you will have more ways to push yourself than just maintaining that form.
[Learning to manifest more than one blade at a time will help his endurance just as much as maintaining his devil trigger will, and will likely be of more interest to him anyway given that invites a bit more thought.]
Figures. [Another sigh, shorter this time, leading into a shrug.] I always hated training drills... and Credo used to bitch at me about how important they were. Should've known he was right.
[He takes up his cup and has a sip of his hot chocolate. Then a second, when he tastes something not-chocolate in there. Is that... spice? Both in that it's a spice and it's spicy? Hmm... need to try a little more before he can put his finger on it.]
Shit. It's been like hitting puberty all over again.
[Vergil wrinkles his nose slightly at the comparison, but eats his bite of dinner rather than attempting to talk around it to comment. He lets it go in the end.]
Regardless of how much aggravation you feel at the prospect of training like that, it will be worth it in the end.
[And a better way to learn than either Sparda twin learned even if Nero is justified in complaints of tedium with the method. In all honesty, Vergil finds himself a little envious of Nero even if he's unwilling to say as much out loud. While Vergil would never diminish his own accomplishments by implying it ultimately inferior, it would have been better to have Sparda guiding him in mastering his abilities rather than being left to figure it out on his own and through necessity. That was simple objective fact as far as Vergil was concerned, and not just mere speculation.]
But you had best think twice before attempting to show me up if you start outpacing me, child. I won't allow for that.
[He's teasing, of course. Not about the prospect that Nero could someday grow greater in strength and talent than his father before him, but the notion that Vergil would feel such immediate envy that he would feel the need to put Nero back in his place. Just as Dante and Vergil have arguably surpassed their father, it should only be natural that Nero ought to someday surpass Vergil as well. There may be a bit of a bruised pride and ego there still with as much as Vergil has sought the ability to dominate over all others with his power, of course, but it would be summarily eclipsed by the pride he would feel in Nero that it would not matter.]
["Child." Nero can't help but twitch a little every time he hears it. Though it's become obvious now that it's Vergil's stilted, stuffy attempt at a nickname or... an endearment, even, rather than some kind of insult meant to belittle or patronize him. It still earns his father a side-eye and a smirk, along with that teasing warning.]
Sorry to say, old man, showing you up's gonna be my victory lap.
[So far, "old man" has been reserved for Dante in the sense that Nero frequently calls him old. Maybe it's a good sign that he's comfortable enough to try it out on Vergil... in the sense that Vergil is, in fact, his old man.
And also old.
He takes another sip of his cocoa, and with his other hand turns down the volume on his wrestling match. They've started pummeling each other with chairs now, and this indicates he actually wants to chat with Vergil.
Nero would ask how Vergil trained his powers back when he was young, except he gets the feeling he already knows the answer. And that he wouldn't get a straight one out of Vergil anyway.]
My powers always have been kind of fucky. Always been more or less how I could best make it work, rather than actually knowing how anything worked.
[It's rare that Vergil finds himself taken off-guard. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say that it's rare for him to find himself taken off-guard in this specific manner where the surprise of it doesn't fill him with frustration or leave him agitated. But Nero calls him "old man" and not by his name, and it doesn't really matter whether he means it in the familial sense or the way Dante does when he's trying to get a rise out of Vergil; the surprise is a pleasant and warm one. As Nero sets about with adjusting the volume on his Relic, Vergil simply remains still a moment with just the faintest of smiles before he returns to eating.]
[There's a thoughtful hum to Nero's brief albeit colorful means of describing coming into his powers.]
I suppose more awareness is one small benefit Dante and I both had in the brief time our father was with us. [Sparda never had the opportunity to teach his boys properly, but they were at least aware of their heritages and had more to go on than...whatever exactly happened to Nero.] How old were you when your powers began to emerge?
[Nero smiles a little crookedly at the question. It's the sort of wry amusement that comes after many, many years of processing, learning, and dealing with how difficult and complicated his heritage has made his life. These days, he's learned to accept his powers as a vital part of who he is. It's easier now to look back with empathy and even some fondness on his prior struggles. Frustration. Abject fear.]
I was always more athletic than the other kids. Ran faster. Way stronger, even more than the adults, especially when I joined the knights. But I didn't think anything was wrong until my arm happened.
[He absently reaches over to touch his now human-looking right forearm.]
[It's hard not to at least glance at Nero's arm, especially when he reaches over to touch it, but Vergil keeps it to just a glance before quickly averting his gaze. He's apologized, and for all intents and purposes, he is forgiven. But there is still a tug of some kind of complicated emotion that he doesn't particularly wish to dwell upon any further than he already has.]
What happened exactly?
[Body parts suddenly becoming permanently demonic wasn't exactly part of Vergil's own experience, and he would hazard a guess the same was true for Dante. So, he cannot even begin to guess what would cause something like that in the first place.]
[Incredibly, Nero's not even thinking about the loss of his arm at the moment. He's focused further back, to that day in the woods and the troubles that followed.]
I got hurt, saving Kyrie and some kids from a demon. Slashed my arm up pretty good. Then instead of healing the wound... changed. Turned weird colors, and started to spread until it overtook my whole arm. [He does not feel a particular need to describe the specifics of how it looks. Vergil's seen it.]
At first, I thought I got infected with something. Totally thought I was gonna die. Then I realized it was demonic. I just... felt it and knew.
[Which was, at the time, worse than thinking he was dying.]
I thought I was turning into a demon. I was really scared, and I knew the Order would freak out if they knew. So I pretended my arm was still hurt, wore a sling, and learned to fight one-handed.
[He was too frightened to tell even Credo or Kyrie. Especially Kyrie. And at the time he knew he wouldn't be able to hide it forever. Fortunately, his instincts back then had been correct; if Order freaks like Agnus had found out about his powers, at best he'd have been thrown in a cage and experimented on. At worse, plugged into the false Savior as a battery much, much sooner.]
[Vergil continues to eat while he listens to Nero's recounting of how his arm came to be, and hums thoughtfully at its conclusion. It sounds as though perhaps his healing factor was attempting to manifest, but it was not able to do so completely. The reasons for why it would not awaken completely, if Vergil had to hazard a guess, likely stemmed from Nero's ignorance of his heritage. Not knowing of the demonic blood that flowed within his veins, he wouldn't have any idea of the power within him to properly awaken it. It is little wonder that it's taken him this long to begin truly tapping into the full potential of his abilities. Had he never crossed paths with Dante and everything else that unfolded, it's likely it would have taken longer. Assuming that it ever happened at all, of course.]
Given the circumstances, you did the best you likely could have. [Which is not some form of awkward praise from Vergil, so much as it's his observation of what Nero's shared with him about what happened when his demonic powers first manifested. Vergil finally reaches for his own hot chocolate and takes a sip. Unlike Nero's there's no spicy kick to Vergil's; it's a white chocolate with lavender instead.] I assume when you came to possess it, Yamato was able to awaken more of your power.
[It is, after all, what it did for Vergil. It would only make sense that the blade would do the same for Nero, especially if it was willing to submit to him as a temporary master in Vergil's absence.]
[Nero nods. It's not necessarily meant to be a compliment, he doesn't think, but he does appreciate Vergil's insight on his... learning process. (Some part of him is too ready to imagine him scorning Nero for being weak or incomplete, fumbling pathetically to utilize his power. At this point, he suspects that's more of him projecting than it is any judgment or view of Vergil.)]
It was broken. The Order had it in pieces in their lab, and their asshole chief alchemist was fucking around with it. When I went down there, his demons attacked me and... [He pauses a moment before he goes on.] I think I might have died? Or I at least came close.
Then Yamato saved me. Or my real power woke up. Maybe both? But the sword fixed itself and that's when I was able to use it.
[There's the barest shift in Vergil's expression when Nero discloses his near-death experience. When he assumed that the Yamato must have done for Nero what it did for him, he did not think nor intend for it to be that similar... If anything, he would hope that was one thing they would not share out of all the possibilities. What sort of parent would he be if he were not to hope for as much? When he glances down toward his food, that shift in his expression remains, his quiet afterward now tinged by a sort of ache he does not entirely know how he would describe.]
We've that in common then, [he says, offering a mild explanation for his reaction, but otherwise choosing to let the matter rest. There is no need to dig into the specifics of his past now.]
[That info is clearly painful for Vergil somehow. Well, really... take your pick. Nero (nearly) dying? Yamato being broken and used by Order scumbags?
When he reveals that Yamato once saved him too, Nero makes a weak smile and glances away. He's certainly not going to ask for the specifics, there.]
Good ol' Yamato. [By reflex, he reaches over and sets a hand on Vergil's elbow as though to comfort him. So reflexive he isn't even aware he's doing it until he does, at which point he pauses and then slowly withdraws it once he... thinks it won't be awkward. Is he allowed to touch Vergil yet?] Dante said that's how he knew who I was. The way Yamato responded to me.
[Of course, Nero had not the slightest clue at the time. Not who Vergil was, not what Yamato was capable of, not even really why it was the catalyst to pull that phantom demon out of Nero's skin. First it was his arm. Then the voices in his dreams. Then that ghostly reflection that echoed Nero's true power, even if he wasn't strong enough to manifest it yet.]
At some point... I stopped being afraid. My arm was weird, but it never hurt and never felt wrong. And I realized everything my power could do, if I chose to embrace it. So I thought, maybe my arm was turning into what it was always meant to. I was always different from everyone else... and maybe I was supposed to be.
[He meets Vergil's eyes briefly, then glances back down at his hands wrapped around the cup of cocoa.]
Being part demon hasn't always been easy. But it's part of me. I stopped hiding my arm after the Savior shit. People can either take me as I am, or get bent.
[Vergil glances at the hand on his elbow, but there is no further reaction to it even if he finds it initially a little puzzling. It's only as Nero takes his hand back that Vergil realizes it was meant to be a gesture of comfort, and he feels a touch foolish for not immediately recognizing it as such. Vergil recovers quickly from the mild amount of embarrassment, however, and refocuses on Nero, nodding a little at Dante's telling of how he knew for certain who Nero was since he'd received the same story from Dante as far as that was concerned. The rest earns a smile from Vergil. It starts off small as Nero begins to describe the change, but by the end, it's likely the most Nero has ever seen his father smile yet. More than that, however, there is a distinct sense of pride in his eyes as he looks at Nero.]
Good. [While not exactly timid or presenting as wilting, Vergil has a noticeable tendency to be quite careful in the words he chooses to use with Nero. Now, there is no such care taken insomuch it's clear that it is from his own convictions, from his very core that Vergil now speaks. It is something that he knows rather than something he's spent a great deal of time overthinking before attempting to voice. To that end, Nero may very well reject what Vergil has to say, and that is entirely his prerogative. But for Vergil? This remains firmly true for him.] Your demonic heritage is a gift that should be embraced, but it does not come without its price.
[For all that Dante likely believes that Vergil so blindly embraced demonic power and only relished in the strength it provided him, he did not entirely. After Eva's death, he spent his life hunted because he refused to conceal himself. While it was impossible for him to understand the full extent of what that meant he lost and what he ended up sacrificing in the name of that power until much later, he was not so ignorant that he didn't understand the connection between those that pursued him and his choice to not hide and embrace his father's legacy in the only ways he knew how. It was simply a hardship he was willing to accept.]
It is unlikely that the Order will be the last of those you find who would covet the power in your blood, but you will find there are also some who would doubt your strength because of the heart your mother gifted you with. [Demonic blood sullied by a human womb. Words that still to this day settle uncomfortable within his memories and yet he knows are unlikely to be the last ever spat about their mixed heritage.] But they only succeed in rending your strength from you when you surrender yourself to them. If you remain certain of yourselfβthe whole of yourselfβand you allow no one to lay claim to your power, you will always possess the strength to protect what matters most to you.
[It feels a little like staring into bright lights-- catching a glimpse of the way Vergil's looking at him. It's not the first time he's seen that expression, in little flashes here and there. But this is the first time Vergil's smiled at him so openly-- or at least, the first time he's noticed it so keenly, and known what it means.
His father is proud of him.
For once, he finds himself unwilling to divert his eyes and look away, even though he's keenly aware how brightly he's flushing, and how close he is to the verge of abrupt, impulsive tears. Tearing up, at least. He exhales shakily and wrests back control of his emotions, and knows exactly the sentiment behind them.]
That means a lot, coming from you.
[Merely human. Petulant mortal flesh. Cursed, the moment you were brought into this world. Even as they came in the midst of exhaustion and agony, Nero hasn't forgotten those scornful words, nor has he forgotten that they came from one (dark, unmitigatedly cruel, concentratedly wicked) side of his own father. To see him now, contained, humanized, balanced and proud of him...
When it becomes too much, he glances away, somewhere across the room. He unconsciously grazes his fingers over his chest (over the heart his mother gave him,) and quietly nods.]
That's all I ever wanted. The power to protect the people I care about. Kyrie, and... [One more very brief sideways glance at Vergil before he adds, almost shyly,] my family.
[Vergil's expression softens slightly as Nero adds the mention of family, heart clenching in a way that feels both at once a pleasant warmth and pained all at once. It's never a responsibility that Vergil ever intends to place upon Nero's shoulders even if he's technically done so once before albeit without his knowledge. It simply is not the natural order of things for a son to have a duty in protecting his father like that. But the want being there...]
You have that power. You always have. Even if you haven't always understood it or been able to access it, it's always been within you from the moment you were born.
[It is only a matter of learning to master it now, and that is something that will come with time and practice, all of which Nero is willing to take until he gets it right.]
[He says it reflexively, then goes quiet for a moment. Then there's a loud, ugly snort, the distinctive sound of forcibly sniffling back tears. Another moment of quiet, tense with the possibility of another snort, but he manages to fight it off without one.
There's another moment as he debates saying what's on his mind. And finally, he glances back at Vergil for a moment.]
And thanks for... you've been trying really hard. I know it's been weird and difficult but I-
[He looks away, cracking the edges of a smile.] I see you. It means more to me than I can say. Thank you.
[Part of Vergil wants to dismiss the notion that it's been weird or difficult. Or, at the very least, the latter. There's been more difficult things in Vergil's life with significantly less benefit to it than getting to know his son, and trying to figure out with him how they might fit into one another's lives now that they know of each other's existences. But just because there's been more challenges than this, that does not mean it has been easy. For either of them albeit likely for different reasons. So, Vergil says nothing to the contrary even if the recognition and the expressed gratitude...]
[Well, they're admittedly part of that weird aspect of all of this. It has not been often and certainly not in a long, long time that Vergil's efforts have been met with positive acknowledgment never mind overt gratitude. He has to look away from Nero for a moment as well when Nero claims to see him. As much as Vergil knows so much of his circumstances were of his own making, he knows his self-imposed isolation was only truly tolerable because he did not allow for the possibility of an alternative. Without his mother, without his father, and without his brother, he carried himself as one who was always destined to be alone in the world, cutting off and burning every possible bridge others might try to form before it could even begin.]
[Except... Just once, he didn't. Even if he ultimately did not possess the courage or strength to stay back then, to allow himself that want of being understood and seen once more, he could not deny that just once, he let himself indulge in that feeling of being wanted and loved. The proof of it, after all, was seated with him at this very table now.]
[Vergil swallows thickly, tempering the swell of emotion in his chest for the moment.]
Even if based upon your own reasons, you had chosen to reject and refuse me as your father, there would be no greater fool than me if I were to abandon you again, Nero. [There would be no factor of ignorance that would have led to that outcome as it had in the past. And it never could have been through any fault of Nero's regardless of how gentle or harsh his rejection of Vergil would have been. It would have been purely Vergil's own shortcomings, a lack of strength and courage, that would lead him to make such a poor choice as that in those circumstances.] I am not here or doing any of this because of guilt or a drive to rectify the past, or out of a sense of paternal duty and obligation to my kin.
[He looks at Nero again.]
I am here because you are more important to me than you will likely ever understand.
[He finds it terribly endearing when Vergil has to look away from him. Particularly when he does the same thing a moment later, and they're left catching glances in very small bursts or out of the corner of their eyes.
Honestly? He wouldn't have held it against Vergil if he did make an effort with Nero out of guilt, or duty, or obligation. Vergil could have stuck around because he wanted to borrow Red Queen and Nero would have agreed to it, at least initially. None of that really mattered when it all led to the same outcome: a father who existed in his life. A father who wanted him.
Hearing him say that...]
I can't explain it, you can't explain it... we're really sitting here grunting back and forth, huh?
[There's the other snort. And this time Nero is definitely crying, though it's in the form of a few tears spilling and his chest shaking, while he stays in control of his voice.]
[The words leave Nero so casually that for a brief moment, it doesn't exactly register what Nero said at first. Vergil huffs a soft sound, quietly amused and perhaps even a touch pleased at the similarities between them. It has, after all, been a bit difficult for Vergil to really see much of himself in Nero. Outside of his temper at least. That much is quite obvious. But then it actually registers what Nero said and Vergil does a double-take.]
[You really are my dad.]
[There's never really been a distinction for Vergil. Father is just as much of a term of endearment as it is a sign of respect rather than a word to keep one's distance or signal a sense of detachment (or often resentment in Dante's case). But he knows Nero does not hold the same perspective. That much is obvious in how Vergil's name is often used to keep him at a safe distance while not denying him as a person. Father is a term that reflects fact and a position more than a person. Not to say that there is no emotion, no connection behind it whatsoever, but it's colder than just using Vergil's name instead. Dad, on the other hand... Even as a descriptor like this...? It's... Well, it's just...]
[It's for just a moment, but Vergil has forgotten how to breathe. Or perhaps he was too frightened to breathe because if he did, some illusion would shatter and he'd realize he misheard Nero after all, and it was merely wishful thinking in the end. But he breathes when he remembers it or perhaps the air in his lungs simply needs to move. Whatever the case may be, he breathes and nothing changes. Not in an unpleasant way, in any case. Not really. Even if stings a bit on that next breath, the air feeling sharper than it did a moment ago and he has to blink back uninvited emotion welling up in his eyes that he makes no direct acknowledgment of beyond looking away from Nero for a moment again.]
[Since learning of Nero's existence, Vergil hoped that Nero might make the allowance for him to be part of his life. However, beyond not casting him completely aside, Vergil didn't allow himself to envision what it might look like. Some of that was arguably due to a lack of imagination, but the real reason for it was the hope. Vergil could not allow for himself to hope because it would have been his ruin. Oh, if Nero could not have found it within himself to give Vergil the chance or to forgive him, it would have been awful. There is no scenario in which Vergil could find that ideal or anything less than terrible, but he could have lived with it. Provided that he did not allow himself hope, he could have done exactly as he said a moment ago and still refused to abandon Nero even while being kept at such a distance that the gulf between them is ultimately insurmountable.]
[He could not if he allowed himself to hope.]
[But he feels it now, and it's what took his breath away and brought unspent tears to his eyes as for the first time, a future feels all the more within his reach for the first time in... Well, he doesn't know exactly how long. But it's something he knows with every fiber in his being that he will do everything he can to fiercely protect it, no matter what it takes. Which feels so alien to Vergil as everything at once feels so large and overwhelming, and yet so quiet and simple all at once.]
[He doesn't know what to say, but it's not a loss of words that comes riddled with anxieties he's about to say the wrong thing that could spoil it all. No, it's a decidedly much better way to be rendered speechless. He draws another breath before he tries to speak, gathering enough of himself to borrow words in lieu of his own.]
I have no name. I am but two days old, [he recites, which Nero may very well recognize the lines from one of Vergil's books.] What shall I call thee? I happy am. Joy is my name. Sweet joy befall thee.
Pretty joy! Sweet joy but two days old. Sweet joy I call thee; thou dost smile. I sing the while sweet joy befall thee.
[He doesn't know if Nero will understand it. There's a good chance he won't given the times his nose wrinkled whenever V would recite lines of poetry. But it's close enough to an explanation and perhaps better than just grunting back and forth that he very well might.]
[Nero recognizes that glance-away maneuver, knows it intimately. Honestly, every time he looks at Vergil and sees one of his own mannerisms unconsciously mirrored, it dawns on him once more, in sharper relief. But now that he's said it aloud, it's easier to think it without dodging around the word, or using his name, or tripping over a far too stuffy "father." This is his dad. And for the first time, he can admit that he means it as more than a bland descriptor. Vergil is his dad. He wants to be. He's fighting to be. And Nero wants him to be, too.
A quick swipe at his eyes isn't enough to fully hide the tears, but it takes care of most of them. With another snort he's through the worst of it, and he can even vaguely look in Vergil's direction again. Seeing him struggling with his own emotions hurts, but in the good way. Like stretching a sore muscle to the point it finally relaxes.
Then, for lack of a better description, Vergil can't hold back anymore and bursts forth an explosion of poetry. Nero smirks the moment he recognizes it, thinking fondly of V and his inscrutable soliloquies. Only this time, he recognizes it from somewhere else.]
William Blake, right?
[He reaches over and clasps Vergil on the forearm, a gesture of affection that isn't too over-the-top and doesn't require Nero getting up from his chair. Mostly because if he somehow coerces a hug from Vergil right now he's gonna fucking cry hysterically.
And with it comes a profound statement of understanding and empathy. The only thing he can really think to say to something like that.]
[Beneath Nero's hold, Vergil's arm turns just enough that he's able to return the gesture. His hold on Nero's forearm is firm, but it's fair from tight. There's no desperation, so much as it is a reflection of his words. And Nero's as well. Even if Nero is far more succinct. Vergil does not dismiss it out of hand because of its brevity or its simplicity. After all, it's not as though Vergil summoned a word of his own. Nero at least managed one. It pulls a faint, fond smile to Vergil's face. Well, that and Nero's recognition of the poetry he just recited. Vergil had his suspicions that Nero was reading his books after weeks of finding them just slightly off from where he left them and Dante not taking ownership of it as some sort of prank wherein he's testing to see how long it takes for Vergil to say something, but that confirms it.]
[He says nothing else beyond that, not feeling the need to, and leaves his hand there on Nero's arm for a moment or two longer before ultimately taking back his arm to gather up the empty takeout containers to dispose of them. He leaves the open container of dumplings still in the middle of the table for Nero, and his own unfinished hot chocolate. Vergil isn't particularly concerned about it getting cold as he won't likely be gone long enough for that.]
I should shower. And you... [he says, rising to his feet. Before he picks up his dishes as well to bring to the sink, he leans over far enough to gently ruffle Nero's hair. The gesture is equal parts affectionate and grateful.] You should finish with Blue Rose.
[Vergil may be far from an expert when it comes to firearms, but he knows Nero can't leave her half-cleaned like that.]
[They're not holding hands, they're... they're finding something that works for the both of them. Words don't come easily to either of them, and so they find ways to do without them. Borrow them. Communicate in other ways that they can both understand. That's been the name of the game so far, but... hard to deny that something about it must be working.
He takes a moment to trace it in his mind: the way it feels when his father squeezes his arm. The way it looks when he smiles at him. He's entirely memorized it by the time Vergil lets go.]
Yeah. I'm almost done. Two chambers to go.
[Then Vergil ruffles his hair in the same manner Dante always does. Nero doesn't swat at him, though... not yet. Maybe in another few times when it'll come across more facetiously bratty than as a rejection. Maybe when Nero isn't so enamored by the novelty he doesn't want to at all.]
[Vergil tosses the takeaway containers into the trashcan before rinsing his dishes off in the sink. He simply sets them in there for the time being rather than washing them for now. For as much grief as he receives over his fastidiousness, Vergil is occasionally capable of leaving behind a little mess. To deal with later, of course. But still. He's not about to lose sleep over an unwashed plate in the sink.]
I'll be up reading at least for a little while. See if your uncle decides to grace us with his presence tonight or not.
[That's not said as scathing or critical as Vergil might otherwise say it, but there is a weight to it all the same.]
[Vergil is often the last one to bed most nights. When he was in this apartment by himself, that pattern of staying up relatively late each night was just one he hadn't managed to give up just yet. For a long time, he's slept as much as he needed minimally, avoiding whatever nightmares may come to him and keeping certain he remained safe when there was no one else for him to rely upon in watching over him. But now? Now, Vergil knows there is some part of him that does not and cannot entirely relaxed until he knows Dante and Nero are at least settled in for the night when he's here. When he's with Mizu in her cabin, it's much the same with her. Even if they're not entirely asleep by the time he closes his eyes, it's enough to know whether it's Mizu or Dante and Nero that they're close by and they're within reach. They're safe.]
[So, despite the fact he hasn't grilled Dante about his whereabouts on the nights he doesn't come home, nor does he even really kick up a fuss that Dante doesn't seem to consistently inform anyone that he won't be home seeing as how he comes home the next morning no worse for wear, it still does not sit well with Vergil to have Dante out and his whereabouts generally unknown by the time Vergil knows he must sleep.]
[That's "I'm going to sleep in your room tonight" in not as many words. Sure, he could take the pullout since Dante's not around, but he doesn't want to get jostled awake in the middle of the night by a returning Dante when he gets in. If he gets in.
Maybe he's out at one of those all night clubs or something? That'd make sense.
Also maybe he just wants to sleep next to HIS DAD tonight, so there!
Vergil's niggling discomfort over Dante being out does not escape his notice, though.]
I can send him a message if you want. [He will not go on to suggest that Dante's fine or he shouldn't worry or anything to even imply such a thing. Nor will he remind Vergil that HE could send Dante a message if he wasn't so goddamn stubborn and old.
He takes another sip of his cocoa, then resumes cleaning Blue Rose. Should only be another five or ten minutes before she's pristine.]
[Vergil moves from the kitchen over to his closet, sliding it open and pulling out his sleep clothes.]
That's not necessary, [he says on his way to the bathroom for his shower with a slight shake of his head.] Dante can take care of himself.
[...Vergil may be more convincing himself than Nero by saying that, but it's also not inherently untrue either. Both of them have been on their own for long enough that Vergil and Dante absolutely know how to look after themselves, and stay safe. There also just really isn't that much that could pose as a threat to either son of Sparda in Folkmore realistically speaking. So, there's probably nothing to really worry about, but... Well, he's just as intent on being the older brother that he always should have been to Dante as is to be a father to Nero, and Vergil simply does not believe in half-measures when it comes to anything. But he will at least avoid nagging his brother even through his son.]
[Disappearing into the bathroom for his shower, Vergil's glad to be out of his clothes more than anything else. They're mostly dry now, but it's never particularly comfortable remaining in clothes that were previously dampened or outright soaked by the snow. He's quick with his shower and readying for bed likely as Nero is finishing up with Blue Rose. Plucking one of his books from the shelf, Vergil returns to the table only long enough to pick up his hot remaining hot chocolate as a substitute for his nightly cup of tea before heading to bed. The hot chocolate ends up on the nightstand as he props his pillows against the headboard to comfortably sit up in bed and read. Since Nero intends to turn in, he turns on the light on the nightstand so the rest of the apartment can be darkened and Vergil's reading is less likely to bother Nero while he sleeps.]
[He almost argues that it's not a matter of taking care of himself, or anything of the sort. It just seems kind of stupid to sit around obviously bothered about Dante's whereabouts and yet refuse the easy, technological solution to that.
But hey, whatever. Nero will just message Dante of his own volition.
Vergil heads off to shower and Nero finishes up his cleaning, then neatly puts Blue Rose back together and stores her in her case. He packs up his cleaning supplies and turns off the relic, then heads into the kitchen to wash those dishes in the sink. By the time he's done, Vergil's out of the bathroom and he can head in himself.
He heads into the bedroom, teeth brushed, dressed down in a tank and boxers, and says nothing as he slips into bed on the other side of Vergil. Only then does he muster his courage and get out what he's been thinking ever since Vergil headed off.]
[Vergil glances over at Nero as he settles into his side of the bed. It's just a brief look as he turns a page, not interrupting his reading as his eyes return to the page once more before Nero's even fully reclined and settled. He's only brought to a halt when he hears that name, gaze immediately pulled from the words in front of him to the son lying beside him. Oh, it's so foolish the way his heart leaps into his throat upon hearing it, but... Well, it's not so small and simple a thing, is it? Not to a man who didn't dare hope for anything and set his expectations so very low.]
[He avoids staring at the boy, turning his gaze back to his book, but without any ability to read even if that were his intention. He merely stares at the pages before him, drawing a shaky breath as his vision blurs. Before Vergil can catch it, there's a soft plop against one of the pages, wetting one of the corners.]
[If he were asked, there is absolutely no way Vergil could possibly articulate the swell of emotion he feels in his chest. The moment he knew Nero was his son, that was simply it. He loved Nero beyond words, beyond anything or anyone he's ever loved before. There was no real choice in the matter, Vergil thinks. Each day that he's gotten to know him better has only solidified and strengthened those feelings even further. Vergil lives less and less solely for himself, and it feels that his continued survival through everything that has happened to him, that he has brought upon himself, takes on a greater meaning and purpose. It was all in service of this. But he knows it's not that simple for Nero. He's grown up without a mother or a father. He's found family in his own way, and he doesn't really need Vergil. But it's been his choice to give Vergil a chance. It's been his choice to forgive him for his wrongdoings and his shortcomings. It's been his choice to accept him as his father, as his...dad.]
[He'd have to be an idiot not to recognize how much of a gift that is.]
[He swipes at his eyes with the back of one of his hands before wiping away some of the moisture from the page to avoid it wrinkling later. If there's a little sniffle, he'd deny its obvious existence. It's clearly just a sound from him adjusting his hold on his book again so he can reach over to Nero with the hand closest to him to run his fingers through his hair ever so gently just the once. Quietly, he says,]
( On this particular evening, he strolls his way on into the garage that comes with their new humble abode with a cardboard box in his arms. He's been out most of the day and has only just got back and is in search of his dear nephew who he thinks is in the garage here. Turns out? He's right. Just like back home, really, Nero being in it, tinkering around and working on whatever he's busying himself with at the time. Some things never change, regardless of place it seems. )
[Tunes blasting, worklights on, Nero is fiddling around with what looks like an old engine. It's lying dismantled across his workbench, and he sets down a wrench and turns around as Dante heads in. Somehow, he's smudged grease on his cheek.]
( Heh. Again. Some things never change regardless of place.
Shake of his head though, boots scuff against the flooring as he makes his way over, jiggling the box a little to let Nero hear there's things inside it and no, it's not just a cardboard box, thanks. )
Wait 'til you see what's inside.
( To which he sets the box down near the kid and shows off the bits and pieces of scrap metal inside. )
Sure. I don't have anything else planned for the moment.
( What with having just got in and all. Nod of his head, he throws a smile to the kid. )
Be right back.
( To which he wanders out of the garage to grab himself a beer from the fridge. Lucky for him, he never really has to worry about Vergil touching his stash. Sure, he probably eyes it when he opens the fridge and has some sort of thought about it, but. Whatever. If he really wanted one, he wouldn't get mad about it. Just they always end up being for him, so.
Twisting the cap off, he makes his way back in, indulging in a sip as he does. )
So this is what you do in your spare time around here, huh? Just like home.
[Unky, he almost always wants you to stick around.
Nero's got a beer of his own on standby off to the side, but he ignores it for the moment in favor of digging through the box. Some good pieces in here... things with screws and bolts and other things he can reuse. Might try his hand at melting some of it down, too, even if he has to makeshift the equipment to do so.
As Dante returns, he reaches for his own open beer bottle and tilts it at him as though to toast.]
Keeps me off the streets.
Without Nico I'm at a bit of a disadvantage, and I don't have any real projects in mind yet... though if I get this engine going maybe we can strap it to something, huh?
Not plannin' on askin' the Fox for that van of yours?
( You know, the one he sent the sign to the kid for. Well... that Morrison delivered for him. Beer in hand, he wanders his way around the garage some, looking at things here and there. He doesn't often come in here what with his not really having a need to. Also, seems more like Nero's spot than his or Vergil's. Something the twins are both fine with really. )
Eh... I wasn't really. Not all that many places to drive it. And I'd worry about Nico freaking out without it. [A beat.] Does it work like that? Where I'd get the van and she wouldn't... anyway.
[He shakes his head.]
Thought about getting something smaller, though. Maybe a bike...
( He shrugs at that because... Hell if he knows. Maybe Vergil does with the guy having been here nearly a year now. Either way, he takes another swig of his drink and finds himself something to lean against. )
A bike works. I could see about askin' for a devil arm if you really want.
You've made them? I thought you like, found them. Or had a demon turn themselves into one for you, or whatever.
[He's a big fan of the nunchaku actually... though Nero's quite certain he'd just nail himself in the face if he tried to wield them. Wild and crazy weaponry is really more Dante's thing.]
Oh. [Okay, that's a bap well-deserved. Even if he does grunt and swat and fix his hair afterwards, as is standard!] Right, yeah. They're easy enough to get.
[He attempts to look cool again by recovering his beer, leaning back against the bench and folding his arms.]
We still need to get your sword back too. It's just not you without a big ol' blade on your back. [There's a pause as he thinks, and then remembers-]
( It is a little weird to be without his latest sword or even Rebellion, but. He's been managing thus far. Plus, not as though there's hordes of demons running around here that need to be dealt with. Still, it's on the agenda of things to acquire at some point.
The mention of his gun, however, gets him to lift his brows in curiosity. )
Did you? And you weren't even going to tell me, huh?
( Oh no. There's no trying to slip past that with him and the look on his face says it all with that grin. )
Dad did, huh?
( Chuckling around his beer, he shakes his head and takes a swig. Well. That was bound to happen at some point. Or at least he figured it would with their time spent together. That's nice. About time and all. Means Nero's feeling more comfortable around his old man if he's just dropping dad like that. )
Teach you how to make bullets. ( Licking over his lips, he tilts his head some. ) Your words or his?
Yeah, Dad did. [WHAT THE FUCK ABOUT IT, HUH DANTE?!
Defensive bashful aggression aside, he stays on the subject.] My words. You know, how you never actually have to reload? And you don't carry ammo? I want to know if you can teach me to do that, too.
( Aw, he's just so cute when his little demonic feathers are ruffled and he can't help but reach out and sling an arm around the kid's shoulders. In doing so, of course, he ruffles the back of his hair some, chuckle soft on his lips before he helps himself to another swig of his beer. )
Well aren't you just a cute little bug.
( Hand patting Nero's chest then, he pulls away and sighs, turning on his heel to face the kid. )
It's manipulating my demonic power. ( A beat. ) That's how I don't ever run out. Your old man summons ghostly little blades, I summon bullets.
( Joking, he finishes off the rest of his beer, licks his lips, then sets the empty bottle down nearby, pressing the tip of a finger to the mouth of it, rocking it back and forth gently. )
I can try, if you want. I'm not the best at explaining how to do it though. It's just... a feeling.
( This is one of those times where he wonders if he might be different with his abilities if Vergil had been there alongside him to learn from as they grew up. His brother somehow just seemed more naturally gifted in tapping into it all much quicker than him. Heβd been the first one between them to devil trigger after all, and while he likes to think heβs relatively fine in figuring it all out for himself as time goes on, heβs not a fool. He knows Vergil has always been betterβ¦ more adept at it than him.
Still, bullets and guns are absolutely not his brothers area of expertise, so. Throwing a smile over the kidβs way, he nods. )
Sure. Whenever youβre up for some uncle and nephew time, Iβll see what I can do.
[It will never cease to amuse Nero how much both Dante and Vergil bounce him back and forth between them. As fraught as their history has apparently been and as much as they squabble, they both hold profound respect for one another and keep advising Nero to trust one or the other of them with this or that. It's terribly endearing.
And he's pretty sure they'd both deny it until they turned blue in the face.]
Cool! Blue Rose doesn't fire as fast as yours, obviously, so it's only two bullets at a time... but it'd be sweet if I could get them to punch as hard as the real thing.
[He goes back to digging through the box, pulling out a few choice pieces of scrap.] I think I'm gonna be pretty good at it, actually... like I've already had some practice.
( Chuckle soft, he shakes his head as he wanders around the garage, hands behind his back, looking at this and that and what the kid's done with it for himself here. )
Might be a little difficult trying to do two at once to start but hey, we can see what works when it's time for Uncle Dante's School of Shooting classes.
The more you try to dodge this shit with Dante, the more he zeroes in on it... though Nero's tone makes no mistake that he's a little touchy about talking about this.
Which probably won't discourage him.]
I'm trying it on. What about it? [He has to think about how to answer that.] He took it fine. Ask him, if you're nosy.
( Holding at his stomach, he pretends he might hurl at such a comment, but. He's only joking, of course. Admitting feelings is not a thing either son of Sparda do naturally. Always better to joke or just stare in silence when it comes to that. )
Laughing at such a display β even slaps at his knee β he reaches inside his coat and pulls out his relic, beginning to fiddle with it as he holds it up and points it at Nero. )
Heartwarming! [He laughs openly and turns back around.] Good luck getting him to watch it. Dad's pretty much a dinosaur when it comes to tech. Even worse than you.
[Is he still filming?? Nero doesn't even consider it.]
( There it is again. Dad. It's... strange to hear Vergil referred to as that. It's not wrong, but. It's obviously only very recently that Nero has felt comfortable enough to call his old man that. Huh.
Pulling his relic down, he goes to close it up but catches something on there that makes him smile for a moment before he's putting it back inside his coat to be forgotten about until he feels like using it. Or someone messages him. )
He's good with a knife in the kitchen and I'm the life of the party.
( He catches himself from saying anything about Vergil being the gooey one with his whatever and all with Mizu. Nope. Not gonna get him! He keeps his brother's secrets to himself, even from his nephew. Some things are just better and should come from Vergil. Honestly, Vergil should have been the one to tell Nero he was his father... once he apparently figured that out... but sometimes he needs to step in and be the one to do it. Not with anything concerning his love life though and absolutely not regarding Mundus. Hell, he doesn't like talking about it much even from his point of view. Bad times for both sons of Sparda there. )
( Sorry, bro. It is what it is and he said what he said about your choice of reading. Not that he didn't stop himself from reading all those books over the years Vergil was dead, but. You know. Still not his first choice of something to read. )
But hey, that's ok. Your old man likes what he likes and there's nothing wrong with that.
( Lingering there in the garage, he throws a glance over the kid's way and offers him a quiet little smile. It's nice to hear, even if he won't admit it. )
( On whatever day this may be, when Nero goes into his room, heβll find a new addition to his decor. On whatever night table or desk he may have in there for himself, sitting there on it is a framed photograph of himself, Kyrie, Dante, and Trish taken maybe a year or so ago at the place Nero and Kyrie have for themselves back home. Thereβs no note or anything to explain how itβs magically turned up here, just a sparkly red bow tacked to it on the right upper corner of the frame. Must have been the photograph fairy of Folkmore as thatβs clearly the only explanation for this magical little moment of something from home. )
[At the foot of Nero's bed are two relatively small boxes wrapped, one with blue ribbon and the other with red. Only one of them has a tag with a simple Merry Christmas in Vergil's hand. He didn't bother signing it. Even if Nero doesn't recognize the handwriting by now, or if he doesn't make any sort of assumptions about the gift-giver based on how neatly and precisely they're wrapped, the contents will assuredly give away the sender.]
[The package with a blue ribbon contains a framed photo of a much younger Vergil. There isn't much to make out from the background behind that he's clearly outside, and seated beneath a tree. His expression isn't nearly as stern or serious as Nero is likely accustomed to by now. There's no frown on his lips or furrow in his brow. Instead, there seems to be a faint smile on his expression even if there's a small degree of uncertainty. Why he's smiling at all is because Vergil is not alone in the photograph. Besides him, or more accurately leaning firmly into his personal space as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do, is a young woman with long auburn hair. Her honey brown eyes are bright with a playful look to them, lips curved and parted in a giggle now frozen in time in the photograph she took of the two of them. She looks at the camera while Vergil looks at her. Nero won't necessarily recognize her despite the faint traces of her features in his own countenance, but he'll recognize her garb as being that of the Order's even with the hood pulled down. With enough of those context clues, it should become apparent: it's a picture of his father and his mother.]
[And it's not the only photograph of her Nero receives this Christmas. The thinner of the packages, the one with red ribbon, contains a small photobook where Vergil has arranged more photos of her. There's no particular order to them. Some of them, she's clearly aware they're being taken. She poses in silly or dramatic poses and expressions, playfully sticking her tongue in some of them. Others, she clearly takes a little more seriously, particularly if it's a group photo or it's very clearly involving a service. A few are candid shots though, buried in a book and paying absolutely no mind to whoever is snapping the photo or simply going about her day. There are even a couple more with Vergil, vaguely awkward about having his picture taken or perhaps perplexed by Beatrice's attention, but so clearly enamored with her even if he's trying to hide it.]
[There aren't many photographs on the whole, and it's only a small, small segment of her life that they come from. But Vergil hopes that beyond giving Nero an image of her they are enough to show him by more than just Vergil's words alone how spirited and vivacious she had been.]
[It's about half an hour before Nero arrives home with a paper sack from the grocery store. He's sort of hoping Dante figured it out before he got here but also, brought supplies just in case he didn't.]
Dante, I'm back. [He sets the sack on the counter.] Didn't get your other hand stuck too, did you?
He rounds the corner to make his way into the kitchen and, like he'd said, his hand is there in the pickle jar, covered in pickle juice and seasonings. Yum. A tip of his head back, he waves with the hand stuck in the jar and raises a brow. )
What took ya so long? Did you remember the pickles?
He gives the pickle jar a quick, withering look before he retorts.] Buying your damn pickles took me so long. First store was out of dills completely.
[He pulls a bottle of olive oil out of the sack and gestures for Dante to come over.] Come here, let's get your hand out... [Said with the true, knowing patience of a man who has small children living at his apartment back home.]
You mean you're not gonna whip Red Queen out and cut my hand off? Alright, I'll take it.
( Playful shrug, he moseys his way on over and, rather loudly, taps his jarred hand down on the counter, his free hand on his hip, smiling to the kid. )
[Nero takes a cursory glance at the situation.] How does a grown-ass man get his hand stuck in a pickle jar? Should've got you tongs for Christmas.
[Yep... it's really on there. Might even be a vacuum problem at this point. To start with, he'll lube up what parts of Dante's hand he can with the olive oil.]
( Spoiler: it didn't actually hurt. But sure, ok. He wiggles his hand around a little in the jar, stirring up the juice and seasonings floating around. )
My fingers are probably lookin' like raisins by now.
[Right. Clearly, this is a vacuum problem.] Okay. Plan B. One sec.
[He heads for the silverware drawer and digs until he finds a butter knife, nice and dull. Then he returns to grab Dante by the wrist, stilling his hand so he can slide the knife in alongside his hand.]
Smash it, without shattering it into a million pieces into your hand.
[He holds Dante's hand over the sink, then with a flash of blue one wing appears on his shoulders. The claws reach out and fasten over the jar with a strong, solid grip. It takes a moment for him to get the pressure and positioning he needs, but then with a little twitch of his lip, he clamps down.
The sharp claws shatter the jar into two clean pieces, which come apart in a gush of pickle juice like an expertly-cracked eggshell. The pickles fall into the sink as he pulls away the glass.]
Bracing for the worst, he blinks in mild surprise when his hand isn't filled with shards of glass and blood. Sure, he's had much worse before and yeah, he'll heal, but. Doesn't mean he enjoys it. So, with hand free, he wiggles his fingers, giving a curious little hum then before he smiles over to the kid. )
Wow. Thanks, kid.
( To which he claps his pickle soaked hand down on Nero's shoulder there... then ruffles his hair with that same pickle juice hand. )
[Nero does not look completely surprised that his plan worked. But there is a decisively confident, pleased grin on his face when it does. His wing deposits the broken jar on the counter, and he folds his arms cockily.]
Easy. Should've started with that, huh?
[And he's so enamored by the praise and Dante patting him on the shoulder, he doesn't notice until he smells the vinegar and dill that he's getting pickle juice rubbed in his hair.]
( Said in a sing-song voice as he makes his way over to there to take his new jar of pickles, pops the jar open with eyes bright, and sticks his hand on in for one. )
( Wow, the kid really is his father. So much so that he canβt help but smile a bit as he crunches away on his pickle stabbed with a fork. Taking a second, he twists some β leans back against the counter a bit instead, and studies his bitten pickle that he holds in front of him, slowly twisting it back and forth. )
[The answer is instant and reflexive. Thankfully Nero does not wander down the usual garden path of righteous white knight rage to defend his beautiful, amazing girlfriend to any who would dare besmirch her name.
Because that's probably not really what Dante is getting at.]
I think she's gonna have a few choice words for him, but I can't see why he wouldn't like her. Why?
( He knows how much of a sweetheart Kyrie is and boy, does she cook up a storm. She does seem the type next to anyone would get along with. Still, he shrugs as he takes another bite of his pickle, crunching down on it. )
Iβd be a little surprised if he didnβt like her. Probably would be awkward around her at first because thatβs just how he is, but. ( Finishing off his pickle, he goes in for another one β stabs it with his fork. ) What if he didnβt like her? What would you do?
[This thought exercise is difficult for him because honestly, who wouldn't like Kyrie? But the scenario has crossed his mind before, and there was only ever one thing he knew he would do, with confidence.]
It'd be disappointing. But I love Kyrie and she's important to me. He should be able to respect that, and even if he doesn't like her, play nice because she's my family, too. [And he's had Kyrie a hell of a lot longer than he's had Vergil, or Dante for that matter.]
I don't think he'd really cause trouble about it, though. Not unless... I don't know, she got swapped out for an evil doppelganger and was going to stab me or something.
( He takes a moment mull over that β pickle in mouth and juice trickling down his chin as he stares off across the kitchen. Really, itβs hard to fathom even someone like his brother having a problem with Kyrie. She might make him feel a bit awkward around her here and there, but. He figures heβd try for Neroβs sake and seeing or knowing how important she is to him.
Lazily, he smiles to himself around the pickle before he bites into it, waving the other half of it around as he thinks. )
No compromise, huh? Loyal to those you care about and especially love.
What would compromise look like, besides someone who cares about me trusting my judgment on who I care about?
[Sometimes Nero kind of just says things that sound wiser than he means them to.]
I mean, honestly, I'd try to find out what the problem was and smooth it over if I could. It'd be a bummer if I couldn't bring him around her. But I can care about two people even if they don't get along comfortably.
( Pickle finished, he drops his fork into the jar and lets go of a sigh as he lounges there, head tilting to the side some while blue eyes stare across the kitchen. After a moment, he hums in quiet amusement before he shakes his head and gently pushes himself off the counter there, rolling his shoulders to wake up the old bones a bit. )
Well. Youβre in luck. Canβt see any real reason why heβd not like her.
( A glance over to the kid, he claps his hand down on his shoulder a couple times before he starts to make his way around him. )
[This does not mean Nero is guessing that Dante is projecting some issue of his own here, much less that there's someone to be concerned about. Just that he thinks there's more to this than old easy breezy Dante is trying to pretend.]
Yeah, like hypotheticals about your brother. Totally, we have that conversation all the time.
[Look, he's not bringing up the "you didn't tell me about my father or that we were related" thing again, he's just gently teasing about it this time.]
Is this all you're eating? Pickles? I could make something for lunch if you're hungry.
Just curious. I was gonna grab a six-pack and take it easy. You're welcome to join me, though if you find something more exciting, don't let me stop you.
It's just a date. Not like you're looking to slap a ring on it. [Maybe. Presumably. He has no idea who it is, what the relationship status is, or if Dante even wants to talk about it. Seems rude to pry. But...]
If you ever want to talk about stuff like that, you can just talk to me, you know. I'm a good listener.
Well, that's what families do for each other, right? Give wrinkles.
[He glances at Dante with a put-upon, very wrinkled expression of disapproval. Then lets it melt into a smirk as he heads over to the pantry to put things away.]
Anyway. I'll be around tomorrow night if you're looking for company.
( If there's one thing he's come to learn about this kid over the past five years, it's that he's incredibly stubborn to the point where he's made him lose his patience with him a couple times. He means well β he knows he does. Maybe it's just that he's not used to it. Doesn't know how to respond to it. Isn't sure how to take it.
Sigh on his lips, he makes his way over to the kid, dropping a hand down on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Voice soft, genuine. )
Hey. It's ok. We can't all be as lucky as you.
( ...catches himself there from almost saying or your old man. Someone really needs to tell the kid here about that and that someone sure as Hell isn't him. )
[He's not surprised he's made Dante uncomfortable. The mere act of perceiving him makes him shrink away sometimes. But that's all the nudging he intends to do, to leave the door open for Dante to step through if he wants to. He's taken him up on it before. And Nero's had practice in uh... let's not call it training Vergil, but at least coaching him that he can expect patience and understanding if he needs it.
So he's going to let it go, but he does look a little puzzled when Dante squeezes his shoulder. That's an odd thing to say.]
[She's religious, and dating the grandson of her god, so. That's gotta be a mindfuck for her, huh...]
Of course I will. I'll take her anywhere she wants to go.
[There's something just a liiiiiittle bit wistful in the way he says it, in his eyes, speaking of her. But he's not gonna get into that now, so he changes the subject.]
You just let me know if you need any dating advice, I guess.
[He throws an arm around Dante's trunk in anticipation, trying to wiggle out of the headlock but alas, trapped. So then he starts trying to wrestle away, simultaneously kicking Dante in the sides of his shins to throw him off.
Hasn't shut him up, though.]
So old you can't operate a pickle jar on your own anymore. How tragic!
[He's laughing more than he is actually distressed at being manhandled and harassed by his beloved uncle, even as he's struggling to get away. Without whipping out his wings, Dante got the drop on him, alas...]
Sure hope we don't face down a pickle demon ever, or you're fucked.
( Another few noogies given to the kid's head, he lets him go then, bapping the back of his head with a closed fist. Playful, not at all with the intent to harm him. Just, you know. Dante being Dante. )
[He's wriggling hard enough that the release sends him stumbling a bit. He recovers quickly though, grins, and moves back in to throw his arms around Dante for the ultimate riposte:
Taking a second to really just process that, he sighs and returns the embrace albeit gently, hand gently stroking the kid's back some as he lets him hug him. He'd die for this kid. He'd also die for his brother, too. Much as he doesn't want to... he would. Because they're his family and he loves them. )
[It was impulsive. Just, you know... trying it on...
He doesn't drag it out too terribly long, mostly smug at hugging his uncle and successfully getting it reciprocated. Follows it up with a friendly punch in the arm as he backs off.]
Bag up your sink pickles if you want 'em, old man. I'm gonna clean up after I put all this away.
[Unky Pickles, he always wants to spend time with you. But in this case?]
Yeah, seriously. I was just gonna put on a match and have a couple beers. Might even go to bed before midnight. If you're down, then cool, but it might be a little boring.
Hope you find these useful, but you should only use the smaller one for playing with your sword.
Not like that.
Merry Christmas Nero xxx T [Accompanying his card, Nero will find two surprisingly tastefully wrapped packages of festive green and red paper, containing a middleweight knitted burgundy sweater and a pocket tool kit.]
I don't care I'm minding my own business like you want me to
[He is not. He's relieved it's not another gross worm parasite thing, which he is completely sure Dante would treat with the same gravitas as last time. Which was zero.]
But lo and behold! The youngest son of Sparda returns some fifteen minutes later... soaking wet and dripping all over the floor there in the entryway. The reason he's soaked is because he'd thrown himself into the nearest body of water for a couple seconds in an attempt to get rid of the blood he'd been fully covered in. Wow! It's just like back home when Urizen the douchebag was around. He's still covered in blood here and there since he's been unable to really wash it off, but! At least he's not looking like Carrie with the pig's blood anymore. Just. You know. Streaky with it.
Boots squishing there as he goes, he's making his way for the bathroom then. Squish. Squish. Squish. )
[Speaks up Nero, sitting up so he's visible over the couch back, eyes narrowed. Even if he couldn't clearly see the blood still clinging all over his uncle, he can smell its metallic tang along with the scent of wet clothes. Not because he's part demon really, but because he has a sense of smell.
He looks incredibly unamused as he glowers at Dante.]
Then why can't you just say that? What's with the secret agent routine all the time? God damn!
[He tosses down his comic book with a thump and stands up.]
You know if this was the other way around you'd be freaking out, if I got hurt and tried to lie about it. Why don't you just talk to me like I'm an adult who can handle shit?
( For a long moment, he just stands there in silence β arms at his sides β and stares at the kid. After a handful of seconds, he smiles then, though it's extremely faint. )
He paces out from behind the couch and steps out to give Dante the what-for. (Sorry, Dante, he clearly worked himself up in the time it took you to get here.)]
ALL you had to say was, "Hey Nero, I got a little banged up fighting swamp creatures, is the shower open?" Or like- "wowee I got a lot of monster blood on me, I need a bath!" Of course I'm gonna think it's way worse when you try to hide it!
Except you try to hide it when it's worse, too! Like- come the fuck on, Dante!
( Yeah. Definitely takes after Vergil, even if Vergil might not always be able to see it when it comes to the being dramatic part. But he stands there β lets Nero say what he needs to say and lifts a hand then... only to put it back down because... gross. Don't want to get blood all over the kid's shoulder. )
It's just not that big a deal to me. So I don't think to really go into it.
That's because you don't take goddamn care of yourself!
[Nero storms over and grabs Dante's nasty, blood-streaked coat, tugging on it to indicate he should take it off. You're not trailing through the rest of the house in that nasty thing, buddy.]
I'm not freaking out on you because I'm a nag or a scold or whatever. I know you're a big boy and you can handle yourself. But shit, Dante, you shouldn't be so careless! We worry about you, and the last thing we want is you to seriously fuck yourself up because it's "not that big a deal!"
( The tug gets him to take a step back before he realizes what it is Nero's trying to insinuate there. Tilt of his head, he gives a huff with a shake of his head and goes about shrugging the coat off. One of his few red ones he's managed to get around here. )
Who says I'm careless? You know how many things have tried to kill me over the years? It's like you forget who you're talkin' to.
It's careless to get hurt and try to pretend you didn't and not say anything to anyone! Do I need to remind you of the freakin' eel thing?
[Guess who reminded him of THAT, Unky?]
Like. Look. I know you can heal and it's usually fine, but what if it wasn't? Dad and Trish and I would just be in the total dark. And what if something happened to you?
[He folds up the nasty coat, doing his best to get the blood and moisture inside and not dripping all over the floor.]
You know, I'd chill out about this and worry less if you would just be honest and quit trying to hide shit from me all the time?
( While Nero worries about the coat, he slowly slides his holsters off, beloved Ebony and Ivory safely tucked where they're supposed to be. Dangling on a finger, he looks around with where to put them and just... decides to drape them over the back of a chair. That'll do. Looking back to Nero then, he stares at the kid and then just sighs.
He knows he does it β always has since everything went to shit. Nero's a kidβ his nephew that he's tried to keep safe the best he could while maintaining the distance that he has. Not because he doesn't care. But because he does and he's family and he'd rather not fail the kid like he did his old man without being able to save him. Heh. Unresolved issues he still struggles with in private. But sometimes the kid is just too. damn. stubborn. and ends up even pushing Legendary Devil Hunter Dante to his limit. That's not it, Nero. He can still feel the anger there on his tongue when he'd snapped at the kid. Felt bad about it, but. Damn. If anything had happened to him... if Vergil had done anything to him without realizing who Nero was at the time and Dante was the one who had to live with that...
Even now. He tries to keep them safe. In his unhealthy but effective[??] way. )
Nothing's gonna happen to me, kid. I'm right here.
Says the guy who spent a month in a fucking ditch, unconscious!
[And came home with a worm in his shoulder that one time, that too.
His irritation with Dante's constant masking is boiling over into his own insecurities and fears, worries about his inability to protect those who are important to him. He can't protect Dante if the moron is out getting his ass beat and then lying about it.
He takes the jacket over to the kitchen, thinking he'll rinse it in the sink. Then he thinks better of it, and ends up hovering there with it in his hands.]
Just stay on topic, will you? Why can't you ever just tell me the truth? I'm not a little kid who needs to be shielded from everything. I'm basically your partner, aren't I?
I wouldn't get so pissed or worried if I trusted you to just-- tell me things!
( For a second he opens his mouth to say something regarding Trish maybe having a thing or two to say about the partner comment there, but. He refrains. Doesn't seem like the time. So, instead, he scoffs lightly under his breath β shake of his head to come and he drags his teeth over his bottom lip while he stares off across the floor. Yeah. Nero's really like his old man in the sense that he can always tell when he's starting to push a little too hard or be a little too flippant.
Looking down at the soaking mess he is, he huffs and starts to unbuckle his belt. )
I don't know if you know this about me and your old man, but we don't really do the whole talking thing much. I mean, Hell. I try to sometimes. But then one of us goes and shuts the other down before we can really get to saying what we want to say to the other and on and on and on it goes.
( Belt off, he drapes it there with the ladies, looking back to Nero. )
I was upset and angry so I went and took it out on a bunch of swamp creatures to get it out of my system. Gee, uncle Dante, why were you so upset and angry? Well, Nero, maybe because I don't like people thinking badly of my brother despite the stupid shit he does. Maybe I don't like having to wrangle with both being pissed at and missing my own old man. Maybe I don't like the fact that despite the many years I've been at this and a lot of the time, not by choice, I still can't always control the demonic part of me and I get scared I'm going to hurt someone like you or some rando in this place.
( Arms stretched open, he smiles, though he's strained. )
Nero isn't quite expecting the flurry of words he gets out of Dante, but he listens to them all the same, albeit with a few shifts in his expression and some surprised blinking. It's a lot to take in at once, and some of it is surprising to hear. Some of it isn't, at all. Gee Unc, you mean you and Vergil fucking suck at talking about stuff and misunderstand each other all the time? No shit! Still, he imagines the intention is to dump so much that Nero regrets asking, or hearing about it.
Which isn't the case, at all.
He looks at Dante's big, fakey smile and open arms and briefly purses his lips, thoughtful. Then he sets the balled-up, filthy coat down on the counter (he'll clean it off later) and takes a few steps closer to him.]
That's a hell of a lot to try and keep to yourself all the time.
[Nero puts out his own arms, sort of a shrug, sort of a "I come in peace," sort of a... not-quite developed "can I offer a hug" sort of gesture.]
Look. I'm gonna sound fuckin' hokey, but... You don't have to deal with all that alone. Maybe I can't solve anything for you but... talking does help, you know? We're family. Even if you just need me to listen and keep my mouth shut, I want to.
He waits for him to pack it up and move on β to be all whatever about it and go handle his bloody wet coat there he'd decided to take for himself. Instead, the kid comes over and he stands there. Right in front of him. Arms out at his sides like they are. He eyes them β eyes Nero there for a second before he lifts his gaze more up to his face and listens to what he has to say.
While he doesn't necessarily mean to, he can't help the scoff that leaves him. It's more tired than anything else and he just shakes his head β stares off across the room with teeth dragging over his bottom lip again. He recalls someone here telling him about how much of a disservice it is both to himself and to his family here to keep them at arms length like he does, especially with the things that bother him. Someone's gotta protect them, he'd said, and he wondered, in that moment, if that's how his old man felt when walking away from his family. The whole having to do things you don't really want to because it's a way to keep them safe. Except things still went to shit and that's always a worry of his, too. Guess he picked that up from Sparda without even realizing it.
After a moment, he sighs β looks down to the ground. )
Yeah. We're family. A dysfunctional one still to this day.
[He doesn't think he's talking to a wall here. Dante pretends to be blase and above it all all the time, but just like Vergil, he does listen when Nero talks. He's heard his own words echoed back at him in Dante's voice plenty of times-- or at least, heard the man admit something close enough to something Nero once insisted... look. Even if he can't take credit for it, he can at least know that it's not completely pointless speaking from the heart to Dante.]
Look. We're all here together under one roof. Your partner is a nice demon who keeps raiding our fridge. You and Vergil stopped trying to kill each other. And I'm calling the guy who ripped my fucking arm off "Dad." We've all changed from how it used to be. We've gotten better, together.
[Nero takes another step, carefully, and reaches up to put his hand on Dante's bicep, kind of a cross between a brotherly slap and a gentle squeeze.]
Like, don't get me wrong, we're always gonna be a bunch of weirdos. That's just who we are as a family. But things don't have to stay fucked up just because they got that way once. We can work together and make things better. That's what families are supposed to do, right? They support each other and help each other grow.
[Yes he is aware he sounds like some kind of lame after school special. So you KNOW he must believe this, hard, if he's willing to put his own words to such a sentiment.]
( In the years he's known Nero, family's always been important to him. That much he knows for certain. So, in a way, it's unfair to deny the kid the very thing he's wanted for years. Granted, it's not as if he denies who he is to the kid... after revealing they're family, anyways. The years before that, well. He had his reasons, ones he's already told to the kid. Now, though. Hm.
Gaze drifting over to the hand there on his arm, blue eyes lift then to meet Nero's face there and he's just... quiet... in a way where it's more he's not entirely sure what to say rather than keeping this and that to himself. After a moment, he ducks his head. )
[It's about what he expects. He doesn't really expect to hear anything in particular from Dante. Not his style to talk, as he said. So Nero swallows down any frustration he may feel about it and gives his uncle a brief, emotional look.
Before he drops his hand away and swaps over to a more comfortable sass.]
Yeah, you do. You reek like pond scum.
[He smirks and backs off, gesturing back to the dirty coat he left on the countertop.] You want me to throw anything else in the wash?
( He's not really wanting to throw his laundry at his nephew, but. Well. One look down at himself and... everything sort of needs to be washed. So, looking back up, he gives the kid a bit of a sheepish smile. )
( Wave of his hand, he makes his way for the bathroom to strip and clean himself up because... yeah. That's definitely a thing that needs to be done.
The moment the door's closed behind him, he takes a second or two to lean against it and just... sighs. Fingers pinch the bridge of his nose β eyes squeezing shut and he allows himself a couple deep breaths before he's pushing himself off the door and slowly starting to undress himself. Like he'd said, he leaves the pile of clothes there outside the bathroom door for the kid, still a little unsure about him taking care of his laundry, but. It is what it is and he needs to clean himself off, so. It's into the shower he goes once the water's on and the right temperature for him.
He takes a bit of time in there β makes sure to wash off all the blood and everything else he'd missed in his random dive into the nearest body of water before he'd made his way back home. When he feels like he's good enough, he steps out, grabs himself a towel, and starts to pat himself dry. In doing so, he catches a glimpse of himself there in the foggy mirror, but. The blurred reflection isn't exactly him. It's his other form. The devil within him. He stares at it β what he can anyways through the condensation there across the mirror, but. He sees it and, rather than completely ignore it as he tends to do, he huffs, wrapping the towel around his waist. )
Always gonna be a little dysfunctional, right?
( Said to the demonic reflection there in the mirror, he stares for a beat or two longer before he's making his way out of the shower, wrapped up in a towel and heading for his room to grab a pair of sweats to slip into. Once those are on, he wanders throughout the house in search of the kid, towel in hand and shirtless. Just like when he was a kid himself. )
[Nero is in the laundry area. The washing machine is already churning with Dante's clothes in it, plus whatever he found lying around to make a full load. (Whites and colors separated, he's a good boy.) Meanwhile, he's in the middle of using the utility sink and a rag to wipe off Dante's coat, since leather can't go in the machine.
He glances back over his shoulder when he hears Dante approaching.]
Well, you sure smell better.
[Nero shuts off the sink and plops the coat on top of the dryer to dab it fully dry.]
Your coat smells better too. Whatever you were killing, its blood stinks like ass.
( Smile faint on his lips, he leans himself there against the entryway of the laundry room, arms crossing some in front of his chest, quiet as he mulls over something. )
Iβve got a lot of mixed feelings about my old man.
( He says, finally, gaze distant before he goes and ducks his head some. )
Iβm sure your old man would assume I just hate our father and want nothing to do with him because, well. When we were younger after mom died and everything, yeah. I kinda did hold a grudge against him.
( Dante in his youth was sure A Time. Even more frustrating than he is now. )
But I donβt hate him. Iβm angry he wasnβt there to protect us. Some part of me always will be. But I still miss him sometimes, too. He wasβ¦ my old man. Sure he could be intimidating when heβd raise his voice, but itβs not like all my memories are bad ones. I just wish your old man would let me say as much, instead of just assume Iβm going to shit talk him like Iβm eighteen again.
[Yeah, look! See?! Dante does listen, it just takes him a sec sometimes!
Nero turns around to face him, remaining quiet, listening intently. It wasn't exactly news to him that Dante and Vergil have differing opinions on the man who was Sparda. All it took was one time of asking them each about him to learn that difference. Vergil has nothing but praise for their father. Dante... his feelings have obviously been more mixed. And he gathers this has been a source of much contention between them in the past. Vergil has even remarked on what he believes Dante would want to say about Sparda.
He makes a crooked little tilt of a smirk, and nods.] Hey. I can understand having difficult feelings about your father, now. [He couldn't have said that even just a few months ago.
But anyway, they're not talking about Nero here. He just figured he'd offer a little empathy there.]
I don't want to tell you how you should talk to your own brother. But I've had better luck with him when I have to tell him difficult things, if I ask him to listen. To wait until I'm finished before he jumps to a conclusion, you know?
I think it's easy for us all to hear what we think we're hearing, and take it really personally. Especially him. [Yeah also Nero. He can admit that.]
Yeah, well. When youβve tried getting him to listen countless times in the past only for it to all fall on deaf ears, you sort of stop trying after awhile.
( But even then, he still tried to reach out to Vergil. Numerous times. Make him see the error of his ways β to see how important his humanity was and how wrong heβd been about certain assumptions made. He'll always try to reach out for his brother and pull him back if he starts to float adrift. Doesnβt mean he doesnβt get tired of it though. Or just wishes heβd make it a little easier sometimes.
A glance down, he sighs. )
We have a certain history between us. You and him donβt. Itβs easier for him to start something new with you.
( Which heβs glad Vergil is making attempts to do, especially for Nero. )
[He would point out that he and Vergil got off on possibly the worst foot ever, but there's no real need to point that out. It's not the same thing and he knows it. It takes a long and bitter history between two brothers to make them fight like Dante and Vergil did.]
I... [He hesitates, and thinks again before he goes on.] I know I'm missing a lot of what happened between you guys. And that's fine, if it's not my business or you'd rather not share. It means I'm gonna be talking out of my ass a bit here on some of this, but...
[A shrug.] He's changed, just in how I'm able to talk to him. Even just as long as I've been here. It might be hard, not to fall back into the same shit again with each other but... I think he could listen now, better than he could before.
[Which isn't going to soothe Dante's concerns, probably. So he'll put his money where his mouth is.] If you wanted to, I could talk to him for you sometime. Just like... warm him up. Put him at ease a little. If you're not both so nervous maybe it'll go better when you do talk.
( Thereβs definitely a lot the kid doesnβt know about the history between the twins and definitely not anything heβs looking to indulge him in either. Whether or not Vergil wants to, thatβs up to him. But with going down that particular memory lane, thereβs more heartache and guilt there for him to have to tango with than the more lighthearted feelings that often come when thinking about the good times of them as kids. Despite the things Vergil has done, heβs trying to do better now and Dante sees and appreciates that and, as heβd told Nero earlier, he doesnβt want others to look or think of his brother badly. They argue, they fight, they even try to kill each other sometimes, but Vergil is his other half, and he loves him despite how annoying he can be at times.
Twisting some to lean there on his shoulder, he crosses those arms in front his bare chest and smiles faintly to the kid. Vergil should be proud of his kid. Even if Vergil didn't raise him and heβd only unknowingly had his uncle there around him the past five years, he turned out pretty good, heβd seen it the end of that first time theyβd met. When he left the Yamato in the hands of his nephew. Heh. One day heβs gonna properly inherit that thing. Which leaves him to wonder what to do about all his own devil arms and the shop when he finally kicks the bucket. Nero just inheriting so much from his old man and uncle. Itβs exactly why heβd done his best to keep him in the dark long as he had. Not all of it is a bunch of cool weapons. )
Heβs doing better. I know. Trust me. ( Theyβre brothers after all. ) Heβs βthe older oneβ ( to which he actually uses air quotes, yes. ) but I guess I always feel the need to keep an eye on him.
( Somebodyβs gotta keep an eye on your old man. )
Iβve lost him three times in my life. All of which I felt were my fault. I donβt wanna say or do anything to lose him again. I canβt. Only so much heartache this old heart can take at my age.
And he sure won't let you forget it, either. [That Vergil is the older one. Nero's like... you're twins, it doesn't fucking matter. But he figures it must be a sibling thing. That, he wouldn't know about.
It is actually nice to hear Dante opening up to him. Can't help but notice he dodges the question, but that's okay for now. It means a lot to hear him actually trust Nero with his honest feelings.
(Lost him three times. Nero knows the story of one of those. He wonders if he'll ever find out the other two.)]
I know he doesn't want to lose you, either. Even if he can be prickly and awkward about it... I bet it's just hard for you guys to communicate sometimes. [Having A History will do that.
Okay. He'll say it again, then.] I know you may not want me to get involved. But if I can ever help, I want to. Even if you guys just need a mediator or a third person to listen. [A beat.] I won't bitchslap anybody this time either. Or I'll try really hard not to, at least.
[He folds his arms and leans back against the dryer.]
Isn't it normal to want your family members to get along? I care about you both. If I can do anything to make communicating easier between you, I'm happy to.
Not a day in my life. And I ain't starting now, Unc.
[Nero gets the sense that pushing harder isn't going to work out. Either he pushes too much and Dante gets mad, or he just straight up shuts down. So he'll let up for now, turning his attention instead to taking Dante's jacket off the dryer and letting it hang from his hands.]
Anyway. Just think about it, okay? [Shake-a shake-a shake the jacket.] Here you go. I think I got most of it off.
( Arms still crossed there in front of his bare chest, he smiles faintly at the state of his jacket. )
Thanks, kid. Bang up job.
( A nod, he turns some β intends to maybe either get something to eat or put a shirt on, but. Instead, he stands there, letting his back press against the entryway as he mulls something over for a moment. )
[Nero's turned around to tidy up the laundry area, though he pauses once it's apparent Dante isn't actually leaving yet. He gazes at his uncle's back and cracks the tiniest of smiles.]
To Dad? [He thinks about it a moment.] I'd tell him that you want to talk, but you're worried about being misunderstood. So I'd ask if he could listen to you and let you finish before he takes any conclusions from it. Just like with me and him.
( It's still a little weird to hear Nero so openly refer to Vergil as dad even if that is who he is to him. He wonders then, for a moment, how life would have been if his brother hadn't made the choices he had after he β unknowingly β conceived Nero. What if he had stayed? What if he had learned he was to be a father? Would he have made different decisions? Would he have let him know he was [going to be] an uncle? So many different possibilities he'll never really know the answers to. Not that it really matters all that much since they're here now.
So, smile still faint there on his lips, he hums. As if in consideration. )
[At least he's planted a seed. Made him think about it a little bit. The funny think is, after spending time with both of them, Nero's finding he's actually worse at reading Dante than he is at reading Vergil. But he doesn't think he's bad at it, necessarily... it's just something he'll have to wait out and see.
I was inclined to agree with you, but the uh, train thing? That was fucked up.
[He shakes his head with disgust.]
But even that... I guess it was a good thing to go through in the end. A little bullshit is worth it for getting to be here with you and Dad. [A chuckle.] And Trish... could you tell her to restock my sports drinks next time she's over? It's cool if she likes them too but I ran out before I worked out yesterday.
Well you do like to build and tinker around, so. That about tracks.
( Dante... not so much. He likes to play with his instruments or shoot some pool. Doesn't have a pool table for himself yet, but. He's got a dart board? And his jukebox. Progress. )
[Vergil wakes and his eyes snap open with his next sharp inhale. There is no dramatic flinging of blankets. He does not abruptly sit up or reach for Yamato. Instead, he lies there in near-perfect stillness save the way his heart hammers in his chest and he blinks rapidly at the darkness of his bedroom. He's alone. In his bedroom. Alone and in his bedroom. He repeats that several times in his head, almost as if repeating it could somehow make reality more true than it already is before he allows himself to breathe again. His next breath is slow and controlled, and shaky over the effort. His lungs burn slightly, wanting air faster than he's allowing with the way his pulse still races, but he ignores it and rolls onto his back to make the urge easier to ignore, to get a deeper breath with his next as he stares up at the ceiling. Vergil tries to give his mind something to latch onto rather than the panicked, animalistic fear that flooded it upon opening his eyes. It's a rare occasion that Vergil not only welcomes the sound of his brother's snores emanating from the other bedroom, but is grateful for just how loud his brother is when he sleeps. It's far fainter with doors and a bathroom between their rooms when compared to the three of them crammed in Vergil's studio apartment, but still enough to give Vergil something further to ground himself. He catches his breath before pushing his hair out of his face, wiping away whatever remnants of tears lingered in his eyes.]
[He wants very much to just roll back over and go back to sleep then and there. It already feels plenty childish enough being this affected by a nightmare in the first place. To not be able to let it rest and go back to sleep leads him to feeling all the more juvenile and pathetic, but he cannot stop his mind at the way it reaches for the fragments of the nightmare.]
[Vergil does not remember clearly how it began. He remembers Beatrice had been there, but likely only remembers her presence in the dream because she had been visibly pregnant. Vergil walked away from her too soon in what he remembers of the dream for her presence in the dream to bear any particular weight, to pursue... Something. Something caught his attention down an alley. A moving shadow that he felt compelled to pursue. There's where gaps in his memory of what happened begin again. He remembers thinking faintly that he should go back to Beatrice after a while, and that she's probably wondering where he went, but there was no way back. Almost like one of the Fox's infuriating trials wherein the only path is forward. But then there's little more that he remembers until at some point, he found Nero.]
[Just as how he did not question how exactly his son could at once still be in his mother's womb and fully grown beside him, Vergil did not notice it in the dream at the time how much Nero was not acting like himself leading up to what followed. Going over it with his waking mind, Vergil recognizes now just how serious and cold Nero had been. It should have been obvious that something was wrong, but in the dream, Vergil followed Nero blindly until the ground beneath them began to crack and swell and shake. It was only when it crumbled beneath Vergil and he found it so difficult to be nearly impossible to move that it finally struck him that something was wrong. Vergil tried to reach solid ground. He called out to Nero, reached for him desperately. But Nero merely stood there, passively watching Vergil fall.]
[Vergil doesn't know if there is a gap in his memory of the dream, or if it simply was the circumstance that Vergil found himself when he finally stopped falling into the dark, but he remembers the last of the dream with more clarity.]
[His clothes were soaked not just from the pool that they fought in, but his own blood. Every part of him ached and, to his shame, there was a part of him that merely wanted to lie there, to let this be the end of it. The duel he was locked in with the knight opposite him was to the death, and he was losing. Vergil said nothing to the taunt of weakness that runs in his veins. Nor did he look to the speaker. He knew already that it did not come from his opponent, but rather Vergil's true target, who he was meant to slay after cutting this knight down. Mundus. Ignoring the demon king entirely, Vergil pressed the broken tip of Yamato into the ground and he rose once more with strength he no longer possessed. But Mundus was quick to deny Vergil his warrior's death.]
[Squeezing his eyes shut, Vergil sits up, pushing the blankets off and swinging his feet around to touch his bedroom floor. The horror of the nightmare was not what ultimately became of Vergil. That was secondary. Familiar. A commonplace nightmare made from memory even for how...unpleasant it is to remember. This, however, was a first. Head in his hands, Vergil tries to shake the image of the other knight from his mind. Nero was the one beneath the helmet. With a subtle red glow to his eyes, skin so pale that nearly every blue vein in his face is easily seen. Little more than a shambling corpse for all the life that appeared to be possessed within him, his expression just as impassive as the one upon the helmet he donned. He did not know Vergil, and he cared for nothing, following Mundus' orders just as the rest of Mundus' puppets did. For all that it was not real and he knows it is not real, Vergil cannot not help but still feel his heart break in ways he did not think were possible and his stomach twists itself into knots at the mere thought of it. Standing, Vergil walks over to his bedroom door, but pauses once his hand touches the doorknob. Light is still filtering at the bottom of the door from the living room. Which means...]
[Nero is potentially still awake if he hasn't fallen asleep on the couch instead of making it to his own bed.]
[Standing there for a moment in his indecision, Vergil decides to slightly alter his plans and chance it. He can probably slip into the bathroom unnoticed, splash some water on his face, get back into bed to read until he can sleep again, and be fine. Hopefully, Nero is passed out on the couch, and will remain none the wiser, but even if he's awake, he may very well not notice or think anything of it. Quietly, Vergil opens his bedroom door.]
[Nero's spent the last little while playing with some random cables, his relic, and the television. Kind of stupid that there's things like connectors and even gadgetry at all in a place like this, on an item that's more magical than it is electronic... but the important thing was, it worked. He managed to set up the TV to play his relic, letting him broadcast his chosen entertainment on a nice big screen, so he's not stuck craning his neck and watching the tiny one.
Tonight, it's been old monster movies. The real old, dumb ones with rubber suits that aren't scary at all. Usually he finds them kind of funny but this one sucks... just plain boring. It's getting really late and he's almost drifted off a few times, lying down on the couch with one foot splayed up on the backrest in a slouchy, splayed out flop of a position.
He's just contemplating shutting it off and moving to his bedroom when he hears a door creaking behind him. Steps on the floor. The TV's not turned up loud and even if it was, Nero learned long ago to tune in to even tiny, subtle noises. It was hard not to, growing up in a place like the orphanage. But it's also how he kept his little handheld TV-radio from getting confiscated as a kid, and how he accomplished plenty of other mischief, too.
He sits up. The hood of his hoodie is pulled up over his head, and his eyes look tired and bleary for a moment. Only a moment, before they blink curiously to see Vergil emerging. And he can't quite put his finger on what yet, but something's... off with him.]
Bit early for breakfast, isn't it? [There's a wry, gentle teasing tone there.] Am I too loud?
[Movement from the couch draws Vergil's eye, and he comes to a stop when Nero speaks to him. He doesn't answer immediately, giving what he can see of Nero a once over, and finding more relief in it than he would ever care to acknowledge. He covers the scrutiny with a brief look to the television.]
No. I wasn't even aware you were still awake. [His brow furrows a little.] You are planning on going to bed soon, aren't you?
[He's still gazing at Vergil, trying to puzzle out what's bugging him. Apart from seeing his father awake at this hour at all. He... thinks Vergil tends to stay in his room once he retires, whether or not he's actually asleep in there? But he's up and he looks... exhausted, maybe? Sick?
I'm fine. [Which isn't inherently a lie. He is physically fine, and whatever lingering sense of being rattled because of the nightmare there may be will fade in time. Even if he felt he could get into any of it with Nero, Vergil doesn't think talking about it will particularly help with a nightmare. It's better to just put it out of his mind. Vergil spares a glance towards it before he walks towards the kitchen,] I was just getting something to drink.
[...Vergil is far from a particularly gifted liar.]
Nero's brow immediately knits at that answer and not in a way to suggest he's convinced, either. He watches Vergil cross the room to the kitchen, frowning a little deeper with every step.
If he thinks he's escaping The Inquiry, he's about to be just as wrong as Dante always is.
By the time Vergil emerges, Nero has crossed to the other end of the couch to sit on the arm, watching for him to come back.]
You look a little shaky, that's all. Are you sick? [... does he get sick?]
[When Vergil finds Nero on the arm of the couch rather than where he left him, he's almost impressed with the restraint in not simply following him into the kitchen given that the look on Nero's face really says it all. This child of his... Vergil knows better to think that Nero will be anything less than as stubborn as the day is long about this now that he's zeroed in on anything being amiss. Much as Vergil is liable to be just as stubborn in avoiding the subject if it at all possible. It's not really a battle of wills that Vergil wants to get into this time of night.]
[He sighs a little.]
You don't need to start worrying, Nero. It's late and I haven't had enough sleep. That's all.
I'm not worried. Just want to know if I can help. That's all.
[He gives Vergil a knowing Look there. Both for echoing his phrasing back at him and for his stubbornness in refusing any acknowledgement of his poor sleep and whatever led to it.]
Look. If you really want me to piss off, I can. [Probably. He's not interested in getting into an actual argument about it, but he's just as aware Vergil wouldn't admit it even if he did need something. Which is why he's not dropped it yet.]
But you wouldn't do that to me without checking in. It sucks, waking up feeling like shit.
[He wants to protest. That much is likely obvious even to Nero in the way Vergil's expression pinches, his jaw flexing ever so slightly. But it's difficult to make much of a protest when Nero's form of prying is as gentle and subtle as it is. He avoids any overt questioning or pushing, and ultimately leaves it as Vergil's choice what he says or does, but neither does Nero play stupid about the matter. He's ignorant of the specifics, not the broad strokes after all. In the absence of protest, however, Vergil has little to offer Nero. Or, at least, it feels that way. So, for a moment, it's just the sounds of Dante's sleep in the other room over the soft theatrics coming from the television after Vergil minutely nods because it does. Suck, that is. To wake up like that. Mortal panic and terror coupled with the worst possible fears and anxieties coursing through one's self over what boils down to a trick of the mind...]
[Nero had called it stupid last time. The label still applies even if Vergil doesn't give it more than passing, private acknowledgment. But it feels more...frustrating than that now when it's not just the past coming forward into the present. What happened in that dream has never come to pass, and Vergil would sooner lay down his life than allow anything remotely like it. But for those moments in his dream, and when his waking mind now glances upon it, it feels too achingly real with the image still so fresh. Vergil looks away from Nero, belatedly realizing he's been absentmindedly staring at him. It's something perhaps easy to chalk up to his poor sleep, but Nero is far too sharp to not have it likely bring a few questions to his mind all the same.]
[Vergil takes a step back towards his bedroom, trying to will it to leave things there before some larger part of him decides that he might as well. It's not as though Vergil is necessarily convincing Nero all that much that he doesn't need anything whatsoever and it's not a matter that he doesn't know what he needs. So, he detours to the couch and gives into the impulse of embracing his son as tightly as he can, letting Nero's physical presence alone serve as its own reminder that Nero is safe and whatever ways in which Vergil has failed Nero as his father have not somehow amounted to such irreparable harm. Dante called Nero a pretty great kid once, after all, and that isn't even the half of who and what Nero is.]
It was just a bad dream, [he says, letting Nero go and leaving a great deal unsaid.] So, you can help me by finishing your terrible movie and getting to bed soon.
[It's not like anybody is keeping score here. But it feels good when Nero feels like he scores a point with Vergil, in various forms. Getting through to him, getting him to understand what he means to say, getting him to explain something he likes or to ask Nero about one of his projects. Feeling like they've connected somehow. They've gotten to know each other better over all this time, but sometimes the gulf still feels so wide. So it's satisfying when he thinks they've thrown another rope across it to bridge it, even if it's as simple as Vergil not blowing him off when he shows concern for his well-being.
He's not sure what he's expecting when Vergil comes over. A hug certainly isn't it, and the way Nero's sitting on the couch arm it does create a bit of a funky angle for him to have to twist. But after the initial surprise wears off, he wraps a firm arm around his father to return the gesture for as long as he wants it.
Nero frowns sympathetically when he admits it was a nightmare. Sincerely doubts Vergil will say more, nor does he want to pry, but jeez... this really is a mirror of that night he woke up sick a few months back.]
I'm sorry. You know what always works for bad dreams?
[Vergil cannot help but meet the question with skepticism made evident by the look on his face and the way he loosely folds his arms. It is, after all, the same sort of skepticism he'd met suggestions as a precocious child too proud to admit he wants his mother's help or a dismissive older brother who thinks if he seems too interested, he's indulged his little brother too much. It's not harsh or unkind towards the other inherently (although it can understandably be taken that way, especially by those who do not know him well enough to know otherwise), so much as a reflection of Vergil's tendency to refuse to change his mind. He already decided he could handle it on his own and didn't need his mother. It's just a given fact that whatever his brother might say is foolish nonsense. He's doing them a kindness in hearing them out. And if what they have to say happens to work out... Well, it wouldn't have been likely, but all the better he heard them out instead of shutting the conversation down then, isn't it?]
[Little is different here and now. He's certain whatever Nero is about to suggest has a significant chance of being a joke in an attempt to lighten the perceived mood. But on the chance it's not, Vergil doesn't have much hope that it will actually be effective. Regardless, just as he had with his mother and brother though, he doesn't shut Nero down. For all the ways in which his independent streak has only grown stronger as he grew older, he still at least maintains it's an important kindness to always hear his family out even if his mind is made up and unlikely to change.]
[Nero smiles at that answer. Honestly, there was pretty much no answer that would have dissuaded him beyond maybe a curt "go to bed, Nero." Which only would have made him double down on this idea even harder.]
Go lay down again and I'll bring it in for you. [He stands up off the couch and pulls the hoodie down from his head, rolling his shoulders as he crosses the room to turn off the TV.]
Five minutes. And don't lock your door, obviously. [You know... in case the thought occurred...]
[Vergil watches Nero closely, scrutinizing him as he gets up and turns the television off. Unfortunately for Vergil though, no amount of scrutinizing is going to reveal to him what exactly Nero's plan is, and he's left with little choice but going along with it at this point.]
Very well... [he says with an acquiescing sigh before retreating back to his bedroom.] Five minutes.
[Vergil pushes the door closed behind him without locking it. (Not that he had any intention of doing so. Now if it was Dante... That's a different story. And even then, he may still not actually follow through considering the fuss he'd no doubt make.) Settling back under the covers, Vergil rests on his side with his back to the door. In the quiet dark of his room, he can't say he's completely shaken the nightmare off. It's not immediately threatening to replay itself again and again, but Vergil knows if he's not carefully keeping his attention elsewhere, thoughts of it will return easily enough. So, he lies there somewhat glowering into the dark as he waits for Nero, keeping his mind as occupied as he can with speculating on what he thinks is going to help.]
[A little bit longer than five minutes, but not by much. Nero tests the doorknob and is relieved not to find it locked. He did say not to, but... honestly, he wouldn't put it past Vergil to "forget" and "fall asleep" if it meant sulking in his own miserable solitude like he thinks he's supposed to.
He steps in, holding a small plate in one hand and a mug of something hot in the other. Then he uses his foot to close the door behind him and makes his way over to the bed, setting them both on Vergil's nightstand beside him. Golden yellow tea with a faint apple scent. On the plate, a piece of toast dressed with melted butter and something sweet.]
Here ya go. Chamomile tea and honey toast. One of the sisters at the orphanage used to whip this up whenever I had bad dreams.
[Then, without asking, he flops over on the other side of the bed, sitting against the headboard. He fully intends to stay a while.]
I know you might not be hungry but at least try a few bites. Works like a charm, honest.
[At the sound of his door opening, Vergil looks over his shoulder at Nero. There's a confused furrow to his brow at first. Tea and toast weren't really on the list of possibilities that Vergil had been speculating on while waiting for Nero, and it seems a strange choice. But the expression lessens once Nero explains them to be a childhood comfort.]
[...Well. The honey toast, anyway. Based on the faces Vergil's witnessed Nero stifling when he makes his little demands to try Vergil's teas, he can't imagine the chamomile was particularly favored or comforting to Nero as a child. But he knows his father's preference for tea, so he includes it anyway even if the toast is the star. It's a...sweet and kind gesture in sharing something of himself in an earnest attempt to be helpful and look after Vergil.]
[Normally, Vergil would be prone to bristling over it. He hasn't needed help with a bad dream since he was a child, and he wasn't keen on being treated in any manner that implied otherwise now. But the boy's sincerity cannot be misconstrued as condescending or patronizing, or as though there were some hidden insults to Vergil's pride beneath the gesture. So, instead, Vergil is left uncertain what he's meant to do with it.]
[For as much as Vergil has others around him these days, his independence is usually still something he's enforced and carefully protected. It leaves gestures like this one few and far between, but leave it to the boy to find his way so cleanly past everything Vergil may put up as resistance. There are times Vergil wants to be resentful for itβvulnerability of any kind still rings as the incorrect choice to him even nowβbut whatever he could possibly summon against Nero is undone in an instant for no greater reason than he is Vergil's son and the knowledge that adding him further to the lengthy list of Vergil's regrets would surely kill him. So, he remains far more tolerant and less argumentative were it likely anyone else.]
[He remains still while Nero flops himself down on the other side of the bed, only pushing himself to sit up once Nero is settled. Vergil takes the mug, but leaves the plate of toast where it is for the moment.]
Thank you.
[He says it somewhat stiffly, likely letting it be known to Nero that he plainly does not know what to do with any of this. He's no less sincere, however, despite the awkwardness of it.]
[It's hard to be a tough guy. It's hard to let yourself be vulnerable when you've been hurt so bad in the past. Nero knows that firsthand, and though he still has no idea the extent, he knows for a fact that Vergil knows it too. What else would explain that standoffishness, the prickly defensiveness, the insistence on solitude?
Too bad for him, Nero's been practicing maneuvering around it as easily as he could run up a wall. Not out of anything less than a sincere desire to help. Because harder still than being tough and fearing vulnerability is dealing with shit all on your own, thinking you can't ask for help even when things are overwhelming or unpleasant or just plain suck to handle alone.
Nero, for all his status as an outcast and a black sheep, always had Kyrie. She never put up with it when he tried to shove her away and play Mr. Hardcore Do It Myself, and he knows he's a better man for it. Vergil (and Dante too) get to learn that lesson too, if he has anything to say about it.
He settles in, reclining with his arms pillowing his head, by all accounts making himself very comfortable on Vergil's bed. The real effectiveness of this method, he thinks, is the company. The slice of normalcy to ground one back in the real world and banish away the nightmare. Whether or not Vergil ends up wanting to talk about it, the interlude should create enough distance to help him go back to sleep.]
It sounds really saccharine, but when Kyrie has nightmares, I do the same for her. And vice versa. Even works on Dante, the stubborn ass. So you KNOW there's something to it.
[He turns his head and smiles at his father, looking pretty proud of himself.]
I'd suggest some tunes too, but I know you're not gonna like anything I put on.
[Vergil rolls his eyes at Nero's cocky grin, but says nothing that would threaten to take it away. Not that he thinks there's much that could. Once Nero has his footing and confidence, he's more prone to taking criticism as further prove rather than anything to the contrary. As he takes a sip of tea, Vergil hums his agreement though that any music Nero would choose wouldn't do much for him. He understands that Nero finds it soothing, but he can't say he has a similar experience of it regardless of whether he likes it or not.]
As a child, I would have only accepted the lullabies your grandmother would sing for your uncle and me if there was any music before sleep. I don't believe Dante would have settled down enough to sleep in the first place without them, but I was fine without them. [He pauses a moment before admitting without looking at Nero,] Unless I had a bad dream.
Dante usually came to me whenever he had a bad dream, but I usually went looking for Mother if I couldn't fall back asleep on my own.
[Which was more often than not the case after a bad dream, but not for a lack of trying. He'd lie there with a vice grip on his stuffed animal reminding himself that he's a son of Sparda and has nothing to be afraid of over and over until he broke down and went looking for his mother. If she was already in bed, she let him stay with her. Otherwise, he curled up in her lap. He knew he was allowed to stay as long as it took for him to fall asleep, and some part of him would stubbornly try to fight off sleep to have the rare moment with just his mother alone last a little longer. But he never managed to hold out for long with as warm and safe as he felt, and before he knew it, it was morning and he was waking up in his bed.]
[That all came to an abrupt end after the attack on their home, however, and Vergil grew accustomed to riding it out on his own. Honestly, barring a few nights in Dante's room after that woman managed to rattle Vergil, he's always handled it on his own. He never bothered Beatrice with any of it when they were together. He still won't wake Mizu on the nights he spends with her, and he never goes knocking on Dante or Nero's doors when they happen here. If Nero hadn't still been awake, it's likely Vergil would have crept out of his room long enough to wash his face and returned to read until it was time either for sleep or to get ready for the day.]
[The anecdote is charming. He's seen the family portrait now, so he has a very clear image of little Dante and Vergil seeking solace with their mother. Dante needing a lullaby to knock him out, while Vergil stubbornly insisted he didn't, until he did. Sounds like they've not changed at all.]
Yeah, you definitely don't want me singing you lullabies. [He breaks into a chuckle at the end of the sentence, no doubt picturing the scene.
It must have been nice... having a mother. Or a brother, for that matter. The other orphans were more like classmates than family members, and Nero got along with them differently at different times as kids came and went. But not him. All he had were the sisters who took care of the place. Sister Maria, the one who came up with the honey toast idea to soothe a restless and crying little Nero. Maybe a few times, when she was around at bedtime, he crawled into the lap of Kyrie's mother just to see what it was like.
He doesn't really want to get into any of that out loud. As much as it's sharing a piece of himself, it feels to him like a lowkey indictment of Vergil. If things were different, Nero could have crawled into his lap, or Beatrice's. But they weren't.
And anyway... it's not about him right now. They're here to take care of Vergil.]
What kind of stuff did she sing? Like, old folk songs or... [He barely knows any that aren't about Sparda. Which he imagines would be weird for her to sing.]
cw: references to parent death, attempted murder of a child
[Vergil also chuckles near the end of Nero's sentence, shaking his head a little at the thought. He doesn't know whether or not Nero can actually carry a tune, but it seems unlikely. And even if he could, the scenario could not get much more absurd. Looking to Nero, Vergil's smile fades slightly at the question.]
Her bedtime stories were always stories of Father, so we didn't miss him as much and it still felt like he was there with us. I think she made her lullabies for us for a similar reason, [he says, gaze dropping to the tea in his mug with a furrow in his brow. Vergil is quiet a moment before he continues,] But I've forgotten most of the words and melodies. I never heard them again after she died.
[Not that Vergil would have been able to stand it if he had heard them again after her death. For so long, he carried the guilt of not being strong enough to save her or Dante, and carried a resentment over being left to die alone that only grew when he thought her final act had been to save Dante. Back then, they would have just felt little more than pretty lies while nowadays, it would be difficult to not have no small amount of grief overshadow whatever comfort there might be. And for that, he does feel a sense of shame. Eva's lullabies were a gift of love that Vergil never learned to really accept, discarding them out of guilt and grief and resentment, and now finding himself without years and years later.]
I was never particularly inclined towards music like your uncle though, [he says before he can allow that feeling to settle too much. Vergil lifts his gaze again, but still does not look at Nero again just yet as he continues,] And I'd say I've been a little too old for lullabies for a long time.
Oh. [Is all he says for a moment. He didn't intend to cross over into a sad memory with that question. On second thought, he feels like kicking himself for asking about Eva at all. She died when the twins were eight. But it's hard to know where the line is when he only knows the broad strokes. Even more so when he knows he doesn't really have the experience to guess as much by empathy. He never had a mother. Or he did, rather, and lost her so long ago it was like she was never real in his eyes.
How's that old saying go? Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have known love at all? Something like that.
At least Vergil gives him something to recover with.] I think music's like food. Everybody needs it... you just gotta find what you like.
[He gives his father a slight sidelong glance and smiles faintly.] I'd peg you for a classical guy, with the poetry and all but. I don't know. Maybe you're a secret metalhead and we don't know it yet.
[He looks at Nero when he carefully pivots the conversation topic away from any further discussion of Eva, raising an eyebrow before shaking his head at the accusation of classical music being his preferred genre. The assumptions that are made about his tastes... Okay, they're perhaps not unfair, but he still finds it absurd to be so pigeonholed and stereotyped so readily. It's along the lines of the assumption that he just portals all over Folkmore whenever he wants to go somewhere.]
This isn't going to lead to you and Dante dragging me to music stores and venues to try various albums and genres, is it? [With one hand, he reaches over and ruffles Nero's hair. It's no less affectionate, but it is a bit rougher than usual so there's a perfect excuse to put Nero in a loose headlock when he inevitable squirms.] Because I think I already put up enough with the two of you staring at me when I eat, don't I?
[He's teasing, of course. While Vergil might not have as much personal investment as the other two in finding his favorite foods or show much sign of changing his eating habits towards anything resembling indulgence, he doesn't have a tendency to complain about it. Vergil may not know what to do with Dante and Nero caring as much as they do (or understand the ways that they care) but he knows better now than to take something like that entirely for granted. So, the complaints are kept to a minimum, and provided he isn't in a foul mood, Vergil has been willing to humor it each time.]
[Look, Vergil, he could be stereotyping you based off of his initial impressions of you... the classical music thing is quite generous a stereotype at this point, even if it isn't true.
... is it true? He's not been terribly clear...]
What, that doesn't sound fun to you? [Teasing back. Here is when he's hair-ruffled and pulled into a headlock. Nero grunts and puts up the cursory, expected amount of fussing before giving up and letting his head flop against Vergil, lazily turning to rest his head against the side of his shoulder at an easy angle.
He nudges an elbow back to gently rib him.]
We could skip it if you tell me like, ONE genre you like. Or even one song.
[Vergil allows for the gentle ribbing and lets Nero rest against him still.]
One piece of music that I like, and you would skip all that? [Vergil has plain and obvious doubts that it won't just encourage it all the same. The only thing he thinks would actually change is there would perhaps be bit more of a guided direction rather than taking random stabs in the dark based on what he supposes someone with Vergil's temperament would like.] Somehow, I just don't believe you.
[Vergil threads his fingers through Nero's hair, but gentler this time. More in the usual manner that he tends to pet Nero's hair.]
But I don't find most classical music any more interesting to listen to than you likely do. I only listened to a few composers from the 19th century when I was still a child.
[Which if Nero can piece it together by artistic movement that means, yes, Vergil absolutely was listening to music that would have been contemporary to his favorite poets. But the fact Vergil was that much of a nerd when he was younger that he would have gone looking for music that the poets he admired would have heard and appreciated shouldn't come as some great shock to Nero at this point.]
And some of that was because I didn't want to like the same things as Dante did. So, I listened to things I knew he wouldn't have the patience for, and even if I did like some of the same songs he did, I pretended to hate them.
[So, shocker upon shockers, Vergil actually isn't about to faint or wrinkle his nose at the sound of a guitar or power chords and call it all noise. He might not be up for the metal Nero listens to necessarily, but he's not so stuffy or even all that snobbish in his tastes to think there's no merit to it.]
[He grins a little at Nero.]
You know, I once memorized the entire soundtrack to Singin' in the Rain just to retaliate and annoy him right back when he wouldn't leave me alone. Didn't work for long because you know how your uncle is. [He always manages to find a way to turn things on their head. All it took was an interest in it even feigned and Vergil had to abandon it.] But it gave me a small reprieve.
I'd at least skip the shops and albums I know you won't like.
[He can't help but laugh low under his breath at the anecdote. Little baby Vergil listens to things because he thinks Dante hates them, unless Dante likes them, at which point he decides to hate them. That sounds like the kind of joke Nero would make about the twins.]
What a contrary little brat. [Said fondly though, as dubbed such by another contrary little brat.
The important thing is, he got a damn answer! Sort of!]
Kyrie likes those kind of musical movies too. I've seen more than you probably bet I have. [He also won't admit he enjoys them. Corny as they can be, the sheer entertainment value of real singing and dancing... it's cool, you know?
In response to the hair-petting, he flops a hand on Vergil's knee and gives it a friendly little squeeze. Only because it's a weird angle for him to try going for his hair, over here.]
And look, maybe it's annoying when we're staring at you, but I like learning about you. Stuff you like and what makes you happy.
[Vergil huffs a small chuckle at the (correct) accusation of being a brat in his youth and hums his agreement on the likelihood that Nero has seen more of those sorts of movies than Vergil even if most of his viewings have been an incidental by-product of his relationship rather than anything he sought out for himself to watch. A lot ceased to be of particular priority for Vergil after his mother died, and consumption of art of any kind was one of them. It's not to say he didn't ever indulge, but... Well, he probably saw, listened to, and read more in his time with Beatrice than he had since he was eight years old.]
[He doesn't know what to say to Nero saying he likes learning about him though, and the words hang there in the air without a response right away. Vergil takes another sip of his tea before setting the mug aside on the nightstand. He takes the plate and places it in his lap, taking his arm and hand back to begin tearing the slice of toast in half.]
That hasn't been a concern of mine in a long time. [It's not much of a confession considering that Nero likely figured that out for himself. But what he says next, Vergil has to take a moment to take a breath and part with it because it's something Vergil has never acknowledged aloud let alone to Nero.] I didn't care much for things while I was still in the human world, and I missed a lot in the decades I was away.
[He offers half the slice of toast to Nero without him having to ask for it. He's not liable to eat all of it anyways, so he'd rather it not go to waste.]
[He accepts the piece of toast. Hopes he isn't about to get crumbs all over Vergil's bed, too. He'll be extra careful.
Things feel a little more solemn when Vergil admits that he didn't care much for things-- either because he didn't or because he couldn't. He was "away" from the human world? That mention puts a little pit in Nero's stomach. The only other option he's aware of is the demon world, the underworld. The place Nero came here to try and rescue him from to begin with. Does that mean...]
Yeah. I kinda figured that much.
[He takes a bite of toast while he figures out what else to say.]
All the more reason you should try lots of things now, right?
When I want to, [Vergil says. Which he recognizes may sound a bit strange. He knows Nero's smart enough to understand the unspoken implication of where Vergil had been if he wasn't in the human world. It wouldn't be an unfair assumption to think Vergil would be like a man starved, eager to consume everything and anything he can get his hands on. Perhaps if his temperament or the circumstances of why he was gone for so long were different, he might. Vergil doesn't take a bite of the toast just yet in trying to think of how exactly to explain it better to Nero without necessarily getting into the worst parts of it. He nods in the direction of his bookshelf.] I used to have a bookshelf about that size in my bedroom with nearly every shelf filled. I shared it with Dante, but it felt like it was mine more than his. Most of the books were mine, and he only ever really touched them to hide them from me so I'd pay attention to him.
The book that Iβ That V carried. I only had it for a few days before... I didn't even get a chance to properly read it. And I'd left it behind the day Mother died. I didn't bring it with me to the playground and I never went back for it. I simply took the Yamato and left. [There had been nothing left for Vergil to go back for, only a path forward.] But it survived. Of all the books that were once mine, it was the only one to truly survive the fire and the elements and time.
[He glances at Nero, smiling faintly.]
It was the first thing I reclaimed as my own, but it still felt strange in some ways to call it mine.
[He doesn't know if that actually clarified anything for Nero, but Vergil hopes it does. He hopes Nero understands that the times where he seems indifferent or even outright resistant to new things and experiences isn't because he's a stick in the mud or because of some haughty perspective that nothing new can possibly be as good as what he knew. The day he lost his family was the day Vergil began to lose pieces of himself, and he never once went looking for them again. It's those fragments that he's looking for now. He knows it's an impossible task to reclaim them all and living entirely in the past would serve no purpose, but. He wants as many pieces of himself as he can find back. He owes it to himself and to his familyβboth those lost and those foundβto be the better man he's trying to be. So, he's not always ready for something new. He's not always open to it when there are missing or broken pieces he's trying to account for.]
[He's quiet then, idly tapping his fingers on Vergil's knee as he explains his thoughts. Nero knows exactly where the book is right now, sitting on his nightstand back at the apartment. Somehow he can almost feel its weight from here, learning exactly how significant it is to Vergil. One piece of a past that he left behind by choice, resurfacing whole and intact. That's a suitable description of Vergil's life so far... as Nero knows it currently, anyway.]
I'm taking good care of it back home. I'll give it back when I can.
[He thinks for a moment before saying anything else, stuck on that first statement he made.]
You can always tell me to back off. If you really don't want to do something. I get excited, finding things you like. But we don't mean to be pushy. It's just how me and Dante...
[The statement fades in his throat before he can finish it, and he knows what treacherous phrase causes this.]
We're all still trying to find ways to connect with each other, you know? Even if we do it differently.
[As Nero takes a moment to think, Vergil finally takes a bite of the toast. It's not exactly something he would think to have as a snack, but it's certainly head and shoulders above some of the highly processed sugary snacks Dante's foisted on him a few times. Vergil's attention is drawn away from the toast back to Nero though. Confusion and surprise intermingle in Vergil's expression as it sounds just a step removed from an apology. One not asked for and wholly unnecessary. He's about to say as much when Nero's sentence fades, but Nero speaks again before Vergil can finish drawing the breath to speak.]
[Setting the toast back down on the plate, Vergil shakes his head.]
Foolish child... [The arm that once held Nero in a headlock comes to more properly wrap around Nero.] While I appreciate the sentiment behind your words, do you really think I would so much as tolerate let alone silently tolerate anything I did not wish to partake in?
[Even if Nero hasn't necessarily been witness to Vergil's more foul moods, he has seen instances of when Vergil wishes to be left alone. He does not make himself available to others and withdraws quickly. His aptitude for being curt and blunt seems to somehow increase. But in that way, Vergil is not cagey or secretive. His mood and desires are made abundantly clear, and his window of tolerance for not receiving what it is he wants is exceptionally narrow compared to usual as compromise is even less of an option.]
I will concede in that I do not share in the...volume of your uncle's or your enthusiasm, but do not mistake my quiet for dissatisfaction. [The arm around Nero raises slightly so that Vergil can thread his fingers through Nero's hair.] I like when you share things with me and how you go about sharing them.
Admittedly, it reminds me of your mother by the sheer amount and speed at which you talk once you truly get going, [he says with a quiet chuckle,] but your passion for things in life is still entirely your own. And I would not...
[He falters there, his nightmare hanging over them like a specter even if it is not what they are explicitly discussing in this exact moment. But Vergil draws another breath and brushes it aside as best he can.]
I would not want anything to take that from you.
[In that one way, Vergil is especially grateful that Nero is so different from him. Whatever parts of Nero's life that have been less than ideal, Vergil would rather any of those than to have Nero stripped of that vibrancy for life.]
So, unless you feel particularly like providing me with a newfound concern, I would suggest you start making plans for which music store you have in mind to drag me to without any sort of proper warning for in the next few days.
I dunno... feels like you can tolerate a whole lot more shit from me than most people.
[His tone is teasing, but his smile is tilted a little closer to relief when his father hassles him over what wasn't exactly an apology... a boundary check, maybe. Nero's not under any impression that Vergil is capable of being FORCED to do anything he doesn't want to. But neither does he want to force Vergil to have to bring it up between them. As anxious as he is about pissing off his dad, he's certain Vergil is similarly if not even more anxious about shoving Nero away somehow.
Once again, he gives the expected amount of wiggly protest to being held still, though only enough to give him plausible deniability if he's accused of actually enjoying it. The hair thing settles him down again. He can admit he's fond of how this has become a normal point of contact between them. Like feral cat father, like feral cat son.
Nero grins when he's compared to his mother. It's nice to have those little details to fill out his mental picture of her. It's not quite enough to distract him entirely from that falter, and he wonders briefly if something's wrong. But Vergil moves on quickly enough that he decides not to pick at it or dwell on it.]
Are you kidding? I'd like to see anybody fucking try to chill me out. [He bumps Vergil's knee lightly with a fist.] I'm a goddamn supernova.
[He glances over with another, wickeder flavor of grin.]
Good. Cuz if you said no, I would have just found some other way to spring it on you.
[He rolls his eyes fondly at Nero's exaggerated declaration if only because it is perhaps not entirely exaggerated. Nero is still Vergil's son after all, and regardless of how different their temperaments tend to be, he certainly inherited Vergil's stubborn willfulness.]
Of course you would have. You're a stubborn brat, [he says, mussing up Nero's hair. Whatever perfunctory resistance that inspires, Vergil ignores and presses a kiss to the crown of Nero's head before smoothing his hair back down with a fond smile. Yes, he is a stubborn brat. One that Vergil is immensely proud of and wouldn't likely be here without. Vergil doesn't say anything to it though, lowering his hand from Nero's hair to give him a few solid pats to his side.] And one that needs to not start winding himself up if he decides to stay here for the night unless he wants to be immensely cranky tomorrow because he stayed up too late.
[As if Vergil wasn't always exceptionally careful about not disturbing Nero when he woke up before him while they were still all crammed together in Vergil's apartment, and let Nero sleep in as late as he pleased.]
[He chuckles, and is definitely not turning tomato-red when his father kisses his head. Nope. Trick of the light. No matter how obvious and visibly Nero's coloration shows that he is blushing up a storm.
Not that it puts a damper on any of his sass.]
Aww, gee, Dad. First time you've ever called me a brat...
[Nero wearing the title of a brat like a badge of honor? It's...actually exactly as Vergil anticipated Nero would react.]
Oh, it didn't, [he teases with a shake of his head.] The thought has been there for quite some time and you've done exemplary work to reinforce it. I just do not always say every thought that comes to my mind unlike someone else I could name.
[Vergil punctuates his statement with a rough pinch to Nero's absolutely not red cheek.]
[Oh, yes. Especially when it comes from his very own real life father.]
So you were holding out on me, then!
[He's not blushing! Nobody say he was blushing! They're lying!!!
He cackles and gently swats at Vergil's hand. The intention wasn't to come in here and roughhouse with him, but... a little bit won't hurt, right?]
Like I said. Nothing and nobody's gonna shut me up.
[He pushes with his feet to lean back on Vergil as hard as he can, then finally slips to flop with his head in his lap, as usual. He's sticking his tongue out when he lands. Kind of a miracle it's not accompanied with the middle finger, just for extra sass.]
[He lets his hand be swatted away, but he does not let Nero push him into any particular hazard of leaning let alone tipping over. Vergil remains where he is, but grunts quietly as Nero slips and flops down into his lap. He clicks his tongue in faux offense at Nero sticking his tongue out at him, admonishing him by grabbing hold of Nero's chin and giving his head a light shake.]
Ah, there they are. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned all semblance of manners. [He releases Nero's chin and lets him be.] But I suppose I owe you an apology for doubting you. Your toast appears to have done the trick.
[The tongue-waving only intensifies when Vergil grabs his chin, accompanied by a snarky little smirk around it. Maybe it's childish but... it's kind of fun to be childish when it comes to Vergil. Not like either of them got to enjoy it when he was a child, after all.
And there's something he craves in just... the reassurance that comes with playful brattiness, roughhousing, teasing... disapproval that's not about his strength. Just about him acting like a bit of a shit because it's fun to tease his dad.
His tongue draws back into his mouth when Vergil lets him go, and at once he's back to being nearly 24 instead of 4.]
Great! I told you. It works every time.
[He takes the opportunity to reach up and muss Vergil's hair in turn, though it's a little more affectionate than it is taunting, somehow.]
[The hand in his hair catches Vergil off-guard and visibly so. The surprise in his expression borders on confusion, and he doesn't do anything immediately to protect his hair. If anything, the gentle swatting of Nero's hand out of his hair seems more like an absentminded afterthought than anything else when it does happen. It's not a bad thing, and Vergil doesn't take it as anything other than a bit of returned affection. It's just a bit...strange as most new things are. And coming from Nero, it's new. He usually goes for flopping bodily upon Vergil as he did a moment ago. Usually after working up a bit of nerve to do it, Vergil thinks. Nero leans a lot on him until then, and then he makes up his mind if he wants to lay on him or simply go for a hug.]
[Vergil smooths his hair back into place for all the good that it does when it will inevitably end up back in his eyes again come morning. Even now, a few rebellious loose strands fall out of place.]
No more bad dreams, [he echoes in agreement before there's light, repeated jabs to Nero's ribs.] Assuming you let me sleep at all tonight. This appears to be a recurring issue when I let you sleep in here.
[He uses the continued poking and prodding at Nero as a means of settling and laying back down himself without really having to completely move Nero off him entirely.]
[Whoop. Broke the dad, temporarily. Nero gives him his moment to contemplate the reverse hair ruffle, only smiling. No matter how tempted he is to tease a little about how surprised he looks.
Jeez. You knock a few of those strict slicked-back strands loose and you can really see the resemblance between them.
Nero is astute enough to move this way or that, letting Vergil lie back without too much fuss.]
Good thing you ate your toast. I was gonna have to keep you up all night just in case.
[As for Nero, he looks extremely comfortable right where he is and shows no sign of departing.]
[Vergil hums thoughtfully. As he begins petting Nero's hair again, he says,] I believe I'm starting to understand why some species devour their young.
[The petting of Nero's hair and allowing him to remain flopped on top of him like an occasionally wriggly weighted blanket likely somewhat undermines any potential notion there's anything serious behind the remark though. Vergil spares a glance down at Nero before looking up at the ceiling.]
[He doesn't say itβnot because he's concerned it wouldn't be well-received, but rather because he feels it isn't necessaryβbut he's a little glad Nero didn't leave him on his own. Well. Not a little. A lot, actually. But still, he's glad. As much as Vergil doesn't wish to particularly place his well-being on Nero's shoulders as his responsibility, Nero proved to be not just a good distraction for putting the nightmare out of his mind, but a comforting one. He's safe. He's himself. He's a mild pain in the ass and a little too smart with his mouth for his own good, but he... He cares. He cares a lot and perhaps more than he should or Vergil deserves from him, but he cares.]
[It's something Vergil is still working out for himself. The notion that people care. That it's okay to let them. He's not... Well, no, he's actually terrible at allowing for that. But he's been trying to let it happen more lately. He doesn't question it as much when Dante goes out of his way and does something considerate for Vergil. He tries not to rationalize the kind things Mizu does for him as being something rooted in her usual pragmatism. As much as he can, he tries not to bristle and go looking for thinly veiled insults when Nero wants to help. None of it is easy. He still slips up from time to time, and he knows his instinct will always be to lick his wounds in private than allow them to be witness to any sort of vulnerability or weakness. But he's trying. He's trying all the time to convince himself that he finally has everything that he's ever wanted.]
[Turning his head aside to rest his cheek against the pillow, Vergil lays there silently for a little while before he reaches a decision.]
I love you, too, Nero.
[It still feels like a risk to say. There's likely never going to be a scenario in which Vergil does not feel like he is tempting fate, and they are probably always going to be words that Vergil will want to draw back the moment they leave his mouth. But he knows he's not the best at clearly demonstrating it, and worse yet at receiving and recognizing it in return. So, regardless of how Nero reacts or what he saysβif he even says anything at allβor Vergil's own discomfort in saying it, he decided it's more important to acknowledge it. Because there have been and likely will be plenty of doubts and uncertainties in their relationship as father and son, but Vergil knows this should not be one of them.]
[So, he says it with no meandering preamble or confusing allusions. He learned his lesson with all of that a while ago, and offers the plain truth instead. What Nero does with it is entirely up to him, but it's his to have regardless. As it always should have been the moment he was conceived had Vergil not unwittingly withheld it from him by his decision to run. The guilt of that is not likely something that will leave Vergil anytime soon, but it's not where he places his attention right now. Right now, Vergil is with his son who made the conscious choice to stay even when he knew Vergil would not have taken any particular offense had he chosen otherwise, and is more grateful for that decision than he can likely ever express.]
Ha ha ha... good luck, old man. I bet I taste like motor oil.
[The simple pleasures of annoying your dad. Nero doesn't think he'll ever get tired of savoring them.
He's about to get up and move to a more sensible position, maybe slide under the covers and settle in to actually fall asleep, but then Vergil says something he genuinely never expected to hear.
And like... look. He knows, on some level, that Vergil loves him. Parents are supposed to love their kids, and Vergil's gone above and beyond to prove that he wants to be the best father he's capable of being. He's said it, over and over again, how much Nero means to him and all the things he'd do to protect him. Even had trouble finding words to describe it. But if the idea of having a father who exists in his life is strange and new, the idea of hearing him say that he loves him is on a whole other level. Especially when that father is Vergil. Mr. Never Ever Vulnerable Under Pain of Death.
There's a moment where Nero just stares back at him with a disconcertingly blank, mystified look on his face. It might feel like an eternity, even though it's only a few seconds. It's the time it takes Nero to vividly recall what he almost said a little bit ago, to realize Vergil guessed it, to think he ought to just say it, to second-guess himself, and to repeat the process another six times before he finally gives any indication what he's thinking.
Yeah. Okay.]
Feels weird for us to even say it, huh? [From where they started to where they are now... that Nero can actually think it and mean it when he says] I love you too, Dad.
[To Vergil's credit, he tolerates the silence better than he might have months ago. Not to say that Vergil doesn't find it unnerving still, but he is at least able to exert enough patience that even as the seconds feel like they are stretching far too long, he does not begin to spiral into imagining the worst outcomes. Difficult as it is to soothe himself entirely, Vergil is able to at least bear in mind that expressing what he feels is not a bad thing. And if Nero does not yet feel the same, that's more than understandable. Vergil has been plain about his instantaneous devotion to Nero the moment he learned the truth, but Nero has also been clear about his own needs for a few things before he could sort through what he felt about Vergil and their relationship. Thus, even with things going well as they have been (and that's largely the reason why Vergil can soothe himself at all in Nero's prolonged silence), there are no guarantees.]
[Besides, Vergil didn't say it for his own benefit. And he certainly didn't say it because he expects to hear it back. It's an important thing for Vergil to remind himself of that as Nero stares blankly as he processes. He said it because he felt it was important for Nero to hear it. Regardless of the outcome.]
[...Oh, but how pleased and warm does Vergil feel to hear Nero say it back.]
[Vergil is so good, so well-trained in tamping down on his reactions. He taught himself how to cut them off at the pass, push them all so far away until it nearly felt like the emotions were happening to someone else. He isn't nearly so aggressive with them these days, but he still maintains a tight control over his emotions. He cannot now, however. He tries, of course. It feels immediately foolish to try, of course, as the attempt is futile in the end, but instincts and habits die especially hard when they were what keep one going for as long as they have for Vergil.]
[He turns his blurry gaze away from Nero, but despite his best efforts, his smile is not lessened in any capacity. Vergil is privately grateful his bedroom is at least dark enough that it would be difficult for Nero to tell how much his face is flushing over how difficult it is not to smile. It is absurd how much he's smiling. Utterly ridiculous. But he cannot help himself. Not when he knows it's something he's earned, something Nero came to feel with enough time and work between them. Vergil has probably never been prouder of himself, certainly not as a father. He definitely hasn't been as grateful to Nero. Not as himself, in any case. He takes a breath before he speaks again.]
Come, [he says pushing down the other side of the blankets for Nero to get settled.] You should get some sleep.
[Awwww, gee, look at him. He's so pleased. It's adorable.
But that's kept to himself, and a little warm smile of his own. Nero would never in a million years make a crack about Vergil smiling, or his honest reactions to what he knows must be an important thing for him to hear. That's why he said it, after all. Because some things are better said out loud than left to implication. Especially when they both know Vergil would consider it presumptuous to even guess such a thing.
When Vergil moves the blankets he finally sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed, just enough to kick off his lounge pants and dress down to his boxers. Then he slides under the covers and settles in with his arms pillowed behind his head.]
I'll tell you a bedtime story, if you want. Comes with the package.
[As Nero settles himself in to sleep on the other side of the bed, Vergil lets his eyes fall shut as his smile continues on.]
If I want, he says. As if there's a choice and he won't begin pouting at me until sunrise if that's what it takes to make me change my mind.
[Never mind even if Nero somehow summoned the mightiest of pouts, it wouldn't likely deter Vergil from sleeping all that much. He managed eight years of sharing a bedroom with Dante. He could surely just roll over and manage a night of Nero attention-seeking out of a hope Vergil would eventually acquiesce.]
Go on. Tell your story. But you had best sleep afterward.
[He laughs, under his breath but genuinely amused at the accusation.]
Hey, it is a choice! That's why I asked. But now you're locked in.
[And he absolutely didn't have a story in mind. So he thinks a moment, tries to come up with something. And he ends up going down the path of "bedtime..."]
Once upon a time. There was a kid who lived in an orphanage. And he used to stay up late at night so he could sneak out and get into trouble... or find a good signal for his handheld to watch TV from the mainland.
[He smirks, pleased with the silly way he's phrased all this.]
One time, he wanted to watch a creepy monster movie he found. But he couldn't get a good signal no matter where he tried. So he waited until everyone was asleep, and snuck up into the old bell tower. It was dark and creepy and there were cobwebs everywhere... but he managed to get the signal, just enough to watch the movie.
And it scared the living shit out of him.
[Another laugh, recalling the memory.]
So by the time he ran back down the tower, footsteps creaking, noises everywhere, he was a total mess. But when the sister came to the dormitory door and saw him all covered in dust and cobwebs, snotty and crying his eyes out, all she did was take him by the hand and bring him to the kitchen for tea and toast.
And that was the last time the kid ever went up that belltower. Even if it did get the best signals in the whole orphanage.
[Vergil is a little more attentive than he otherwise would be to Nero's story once it becomes obvious that he's sharing a memory from his childhood. Truthfully, he anticipated Nero to make up some foolish nonsense. So, it's a pleasant surprise to have yet another piece of Nero's childhood to count among the rest that Nero's shared with him. It's easy to picture the boy from the photographs trying his best to be brave and failing miserably, too scared by his environment and the film he just watched to even be all that frustrated with himself for getting so scared in the first place.]
He really never went back?
[Vergil is at least willing to play along with how Nero's presented the memory.]
Nope. Never. Instead, he learned how to fix his antennae so it'd work better.
[It's a funny story, even though it brings with it a bittersweet realization. Nero had to run to the dormitory where the nuns slept when he needed comfort. Sister Maria was kind and consoled him more than most of the others would, with her late night treats and attention. She was as good to him as she could have been. But there was no mother or father whose room he could infiltrate, whose bed he could crawl into when he was scared.
He cherishes these moments. But sometimes he does mourn that they couldn't come earlier. That that mischievous, dust-covered, sobbing little boy couldn't know that someday he would have them. Nobody should have to be alone when they're afraid. Especially not late at night.
The thought comes and goes quickly, and with it comes the sudden, unexplained urge to reach over and set his hand on Vergil's arm again, grasping his elbow. (Through the blankets, if need be.) Maybe it's affection. Maybe it's checking to see if he's still there, if he's real, if this isn't just a dream he's having himself. But the hand remains there and eventually gives a little squeeze.]
[Vergil opens his eyes when he feels the hand on his arm, glancing in its direction when there's a light squeeze.]
It was just a bad dream. [It's a reflex more than anything. Perhaps a poor one at that, he realizes a second too late after the words have already left his mouth, but a reflex all the same. He doesn't mean to be dismissive, and certainly not after everything Nero has gone out of his way to do for him tonight. Vergil reaches for the hand on his elbow, hoping he's quick enough to get ahead of any potential hurt feelings. Privately, he wishes he was better at this than he has the tendency to be, but he knows he doesn't necessarily have the time to dwell on it.] But you said as much yourself that we are in everything together. And it was...better. Not having to sit with it alone. Even if all it was in the end was a bad dream.
[Nero doesn't seem bothered by the reflexive brushoff. If anything, he's used to it. He's pleased for Vergil reaching back for him though, and leaves his hand in place when it's apparent that he is.
He's even more pleased when Vergil makes, for him, a rather vulnerable admission.]
I'm glad. Even if it's just a bad dream, being alone with it sucks.
[With one side of his face smushed against the pillow, he offers a smile with the other side and tightens that squeeze on his elbow, one more time.]
[Beatrice would be proud of her son. Vergil's had the thought before. Nero gives him numerous reasons to think it and more importantly, believe it on a frequent basis. But he thinks and believes in it now so strongly as he looks at his child smiling at him. The heart Nero inherited from his mother shines through that smile, making it look more like a reflection of hers than Vergil's for the moment. And it's such a good thing, Vergil thinks. Whatever Beatrice's fate, at the very least, an important part of her lives on so strongly in Nero, the part that Vergil knows she'd want most for Nero to take from her.]
[He rubs the back of Nero's hand lightly before stilling his hand, leaving and encouraging that light point of contact between them as he closes his eyes once more.]
But I rigged up my relic to hook up to the TV and I've been watching a bunch of 90s wrestling and I just got to the 1996 world championship if u wanna watch with me.....
You abandoned the use of an apostrophe when you already demonstrated you know how to use it in a previous message. Rather than placing the question mark where it belongs, you decided two at the very end of your message was appropriate. And you seem to not understand capitalization.
And that's not accounting for the mistakes in your preceding messages at all beyond your inability to use capital letters.
If you were stupid, I would understand and say nothing of it. But you're not, and I know you know better. Therefore, it is laziness that drives you to communicate the way that you do. And if you think that I would accept that as an excuse without comment then you truly have mistaken me for someone else.
[But being a brat and finding a whole new vector through which to Bother Father is fun!!]
omg lighten up, will ya? It's a text message not my doctorol thesis. it's supposed to be quick, I'm not gonna give myself a headache proofreading the fuckin thing.
But hey now I know for sure it's you π
yeah I'll be there. If the surprise is a grammar handbook I'm gonna be pissed tho
[And now he's not bothering to spell words all the way. Another acronym that Vergil doesn't recognize and dropped letters... The most foolish being the choice to write "fuckin." How hard is it to add a "g" to the end of it, Nero!?]
[But Vergil lets it go. There appears to be at least some vague attempt to meet him halfway at least. Vergil will satisfy himself with that for now.]
It's not, but you have certainly made Christmas easier to plan for this year.
I promise you will find the surprise well worth the walk to the station.
[Nero getting a strike past Vergil's guard is not an unheard of thing. Nero is better than he tends to give himself credit for when it comes to their sparring. His instincts over the past few months seem to be improving as he's gotten to know more of Vergil's technique. He still isn't able to read Vergil as well as Dante, but that's the decades of their combined experience and the connection between twin brothers at play more than some deficit in Nero being reflected. It's also not even all that unusual for his strikes to knock Vergil towards the ground. Vergil is just so quick to catch himself that he's on his feet and striking back before Nero can have the opportunity to gloat in the moment about getting a hit in on his old man.]
[So, it's not the hit or the trajectory, but rather that lack of response that stands out as unusual. Vergil's world spins with the strike and while he does not end up face-first in the dirtβhe has enough in him to at least still land comfortablyβhe does not surge forward and retaliate. Vergil blinks at Nero instead, waiting for the vertigo to pass. They've been at it for a while now, but he breathes a little harder and harsher. It's not quite as though he's out of breath or thoroughly exhausted, but training with Nero usually leaves him relatively physically unaffected by its end most days.]
So much for pulling your punches... [he mutters to himself. The ground still appears to be swaying, but Vergil simply uses Yamato to keep himself steadier when he rises back to his feet. Standing does not alleviate the lightheaded sensation, but he does not begin to sway or wobble when he opts to sheathe his blade for the moment. Vergil puts a hand to his forehead, bowing his head a little as he squeezes his eyes shut to remove the visual input out of the equation. He masks the move by running his hand through his hair, pretending to return any loosened strands back where they belong.] Not bad, but I won't let you do that again.
[Nero's proud of his improvement over the past few months. It's still nowhere near as strong as he'd like to be, and Vergil still gives him quite a thrashing more often than not, but he's at least more emotionally balanced now. He's not had another meltdown the level of that embarrassment after their first session-- if only by intense effort to bite down on his frustration altogether, refusing to demonstrate the bulk of it until he's on his own later working on his heavy bag in the garage. (He has broken it four times already.)
Today, he's doing... fine enough. A few good hits, a few more dumb mistakes. But he's starting to learn his own potential, finally getting the hang of the new skills his blood grants him. And that means he can improvise-- Nero's absolute specialty when it comes to battle. Intense skill and masterful planning and extensive experience are all powerful tools in one's arsenal, but so is the ability to make up some wild shit that nobody will ever expect. This is how he manages to whip out a wing in midair, pluck Vergil out of their bladelocked clash, then sock him hard with the other wing, sending him to the dirt.
Yes, he is extremely proud of this, looking smugger than hell when he lands in front of Vergil. But he knows his father well enough by now to know there ought to have been a follow-up there. Even if he's not sure what, something has already struck him as "weird." The lack of retaliation, sure but also... is he... breathing heavy?]
If I did, I'd never hear the end of it from you. [Pull punches, that is. Vergil never does (or at least, never admits to it...) so why should he?
Red Queen's ready for more (Nero generally refrains from shooting bullets at his damn showoff of a dad, if only because it's a waste of bullets.) But Nero hesitates. It is that "weird" feeling that prevents Nero from rushing in for a follow-up while his father stands there... fixing his hair??]
You need a breather, old man? Did I hit you too hard?
These training sessions wouldn't amount to much for you if one unexpected strike was all it took to make me yield.
[Acknowledging that aloud is where it begins to occur to Vergil that it's a bit odd the lightheadedness hasn't abated completely by now. Even if Nero had struck him hard enough to be the source for the sensation (which Vergil doesn't think he did if he gives it a bit of consideration), Vergil's natural healing factor should have put an end to the repercussions of the strike already. Vergil does not allow for this observation to slip into his expression, however, partially out of pride and partially because he does not want to spark some kind of anxiety in Nero over what is most likely a negligible matter. He's already hesitated. They both have. That's enough.]
[Vergil chooses to shake it off. He's persisted through far worse than anything Nero's done here today. A bit of dizziness is only momentarily disorienting. He can manage even if it doesn't show signs of easing up. He promised Nero the morning for this session, and Nero was going to get the whole of the morning from him. Vergil forces his breath to even out.]
There will be time for talk later. Remain focused on the task at hand, Nero.
[Psssh. Stubborn old ass. Whatever it was, it seems to have passed enough to let Vergil start yapping at him about being unfocused. So he's fine.]
Hey, I'm focused. [He slings Red Queen back over his shoulder and plants his feet in a ready stance.] Square up, Pops.
[He watches Vergil like a hawk, waiting for him to make the first move. He's found that striking first himself generally ends in Vergil easily reading him and interrupting. So rather than immediately get stymied or play defense for long, he likes to leave himself open, then try to counter.]
[One might consider it cocksure to allow Vergil to set the tempo without a weapon in hand, but Vergil doesn't leap to such a conclusion right away. If there is one thing Nero is showing signs of improvement with, it's learning to read his opponent and letting his response be more thoughtful than just a display of raw power and strength. He's imperfect at it and Vergil's feints deceive him into moving right where Vergil can knock him to the ground, but Nero is improving.]
[Vergil moves himself into a ready position for just a moment before he surges forward. But his aim is not so direct a path. A flurry of mirage blades are made manifest and sling ahead of him to where Nero stands. (On those, Vergil does hold back for these training sessions. There's still force behind them, but they always shatter before they can pierce skin. It's one thing to bruise, another to cut.) They serve as distraction though as Vergil teleports to strike with a sheathed Yamato to take Nero out at the knees if he's not paying close enough attention. At least, that's the plan and what Vergil ultimately follows through on enacting. But it is with significantly less finesse and precision than Vergil anticipated that he does so.]
[In all his years, Vergil's speed has never bothered him. And yet that lightheadedness comes back in full force once he's come to an abrupt stop, and he feels his stomach do a flip. Something absolutely isn't right.]
[He could just get out of the way altogether. But that's boring! So instead Nero jukes to the side, just enough to miss the mirage blades, and when Vergil blinks out of sight he knows exactly where he's going-- if not what he's planning to do there. But either way, the moment he sees the blur blur that is his father doing the bullshit trick shit again, Nero springs up with a high jump. It is probably showing off to then kickflip off of Vergil's shoulder and into a backflip... but at least it isn't his face.
He draws Red Queen mid-flip and brings her down in a slam that misses Vergil, by design. It's more of a distraction so he can kick his dad's legs out from under him, an echo of the same move he just tried.]
[It's hardly the first time Vergil has served as a springboard for Nero. It would be an unusual bit of sparring if Nero didn't do something like that at some point with his fondness for flashy, unnecessary flips. (And Vergil cannot even blame Dante for that. He may have fanned the flames, but it's become abundantly clear to Vergil that wrestling is what began the spark for such flashiness.) But where Vergil usually remains unmovable despite the force it takes, his increasingly swimming vision puts him at a stagger instead. Nero's swipe at his legs almost entirely unnecessary. Too focused on trying to regain steadiness on his feet, Vergil can't even begin to attend to what Nero is doing beyond Red Queen scraping at dirt and spraying earth everywhere. He isn't able to parry or move the sweep to his legs, and everything visually moves so quickly and at odd angles that he cannot comprehend where the ground is meant to be. He swiftly joins the blade in colliding with the ground, slamming into it with enough force that it completely knocks the wind out of him.]
[Vergil is quick to move out of that position on his back, but not for the purposes of their sparring. Yamato lightly clatters on the ground beside him as Vergil rolls over and pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He's not sure if it's the lightheadedness or the coughing fit that ensued with all the air leaving his lungs, but Vergil's stomach abruptly upends all of its contents all the same.]
[When it's over, Vergil tentatively and slowly sits further back on his knees. One arm holds his stomach while he keeps the other firmly planted on the ground. He doesn't quite trust sitting all the way back just yet. Not while he's trying to catch his breath and the occasional cough escapes him. He closes his eyes as he focuses on evening out his breath.]
I'm fine... [he says almost reflexively either in response to something Nero said or preempting it. Vergil isn't entirely sure, and frankly doesn't care right this moment which it is. The point is that he does not need Nero working himself up over this. Something isn't right, but Vergil isn't in any sort of danger because of it and, most importantly, Nero had nothing to do with it. He just needs a moment at the least, and at the most, they're likely done sparring for the day.]
[He's... kind of surprised that worked so well. Sending Vergil staggering is not something he's NEVER done, but never quite this hard. And he does not take his hands off Yamato, ever, so when Nero hears that clattering he's immediately out of the fight and attentive.
Right in time to watch Vergil throw up.]
Holy fuck, Dad!
[Fucking hell!! Did he hit him THAT hard???
Red Queen hits the dirt alongside Yamato and Nero is immediately by his side, a hand on his shoulder.]
Are you okay? [Asked decisively after Vergil has already said he's fine. Because Nero didn't believe him.]
[Vergil feels more vulnerable than he would like, and there's an instinctive part of him that wants to shrug the hand on his shoulder off. But he's just cognizant enough not to give into that instinct.]
I'm fine, [he says, firmly as he opens his eyes again. Vergil may not be willing to be so physically dismissive of Nero, but verbally? He can only temper that so much right now. Turning his head aside, Vergil spits. It's not enough to get the unpleasant taste off the back of his tongue, but it's better than nothing. He fully sits up, a little more confident that his stomach is closer to empty than not. With his now free hand, he pats the hand on his shoulder and says,] I just need a moment. That's all.
[Un/fortunately for Vergil, his vulnerability just makes Nero want to rush in and protect and care. He's got a bewildered sort of worried glare on his face as he watches his father recover.
Vergil expresses that he needs a moment, so after Nero slowly withdraws his hand. He puts out a finger in the "one sec" gesture and then heads over to his bag, which has been sitting off to the side since the spar started. Inside (along with ibuprofen and gauze) is his water bottle, which he brings over to Vergil and offers, crouching beside him.
And the only coherent thing he can put words to right now comes spilling out.]
Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you that hard.
[Vergil watches Nero as he steps away to fetch his water bottle. He does not reach for it right away. Not until his apology comes spilling out the way it does. Vergil reaches for the water bottle then.]
Nero, stop. [Being still now allows for Vergil to more easily hold Nero's gaze. Vergil looks at him with a furrow in his brow, his expression serious and firm. He doesn't want Nero blaming himself or apologizing. Even if he were solely responsible, Vergil wouldn't accept it.] Whatever this, you know I spar harder with others.
[Mizu and Vergil only hold back as far as avoiding anything that could kill the other. Dante and Vergil go until they both dread the thought of moving any longer that they are so tired and sore. Nero is more of an outlier in that regard. Vergil doesn't exactly take it easy on him, but neither does he demand Nero approach these training sessions with the same intensity as even Dante.]
[Vergil takes a swig of water to swish around in his mouth, turning his head aside to spit it out again before taking an actual sip.]
[The glare gets a little bit grumpier at the brushoff, even though he speaks fluent enough Vergil now to know it's his attempt to assuage his worries. It works in the sense that now he's more irritated than he is actively worried.]
Yeah, well. Wouldn't be the first time I did that to someone.
[Also if Vergil thinks that's going to discourage the concern entirely, he's wrong.]
Either way, we can call it if you're not feeling hot.
[Vergil says nothing to the bit of attitude that's returned to him. He'd rather Nero's irritation over his anxiety even if it means tolerating a bit of lip from him.]
That may be for the best, [he reluctantly agrees at little more than a mutter. Vergil glances away from Nero with a furrow in his brow, more frustrated than anything. He doesn't know what this is, but he knows that he's of no use or in a position to properly train Nero right now if he's that easily knocked aside. Vergil takes one last drink from the water bottle before passing it back to Nero.] Gather your things, child, and we will resume this another time.
[Once Nero has taken the water bottle from him, Vergil works on getting back to his feet. He manages without stirring up a threat of heaving (dry or otherwise) again and the motion is generally fluid as it ought to be, but there is a moment where he must subtly protect his balance by shifting a foot back once he's fully upright. It's not as disorienting as earlier at least and he only blinks once or twice with a mildly unfocused gaze before his attention is on Yamato.]
[...Which is down there...]
[...On the ground...]
[...]
[This is becoming tedious, Vergil decides with the furrow in his brow deepening further.]
[Tempting as it is, he does not say "so I won, then?" Knowing Vergil that'll just piss him off, and he's already inordinately upset about this little... puking spell he's suffering from. (That's how you know the guy's actually not feeling well, he agreed to quit fighting without the slightest bit of cajoling.)
Nero recovers his backpack from where it's thrown off to the side, putting his water bottle away. He doesn't even need the pain meds or bandages today. Hell yeah, progress! He puts the strap over the opposite shoulder from Red Queen and makes his way back to Vergil, oblivious to his troubles.]
[Give him a second! Don't rush him! Youths these days...]
[It would have been Vergil's preference that Nero was still busy with his bag. It was one thing to mask his unsteadiness getting back to his feet alone, but now there's the chance for scrutiny on his way down and up. Vergil supposes he could complain of his stomach still aching enough that he doesn't want to chance bending over and jostling what remains of the contents any further, but he rules it out immediately as an incredibly flimsy excuse. One that may also lead Nero back into being concerned about him and completely defeat the purpose of providing an excuse to avoid bending down to collect his blade.]
[There really is no way around this.]
[Never in Vergil's life has he been so concentrated on how exactly he bends down to pick something up off the ground. He stares at the Yamato, trying as best he can to block out any perceived motion that comes along with bending down for it. He bends at the waist, trying to find the compromise between what would be a natural bend and what he feels comfortable, letting the bend in his knees lower him the remainder of the way. Vergil keeps his breathing even, drawing his attention to that as he gets his hand around Yamato before bringing himself back upright. And he manages to do alright with that as well. There's no sway or wobble. No real hesitation that would belie how much everything is spinning.]
[Until he takes the turn to walk and leave a little too quickly, that is. Vergil cannot help the drifting feeling that comes with that or the way he automatically and quickly has to catch himself to keep from tipping too far that he's in danger of falling.]
[...Damn.]
[To Vergil's credit, he does not freeze even as he becomes distinctly aware that there's absolutely no way that Nero would have missed that slight stumble. He simply begins walking forward, stubbornly denying the existence of aforementioned stumble by drawing no further attention to it.]
We may have lunch once we arrive home if you do not mind it a little early today.
Nero doesn't think much of the invisible production that goes into Vergil picking something up from the ground, nor does he notice. He does see the stumble though, and steps up to walk alongside his father with a familiar crease of his brow. Suspicion. Also worry, Vergil, tough shit!]
I don't. But you sure you're ready for food? I always feel bleh for a while after I blow chunks.
[Vergil knows that look on his son's face, but before he can concern himself with it too much, Nero goes and says the phrase "blow chunks." He wrinkles his nose in obvious disapproval.]
Must you phrase it like that?
[He shakes his head a little before looking ahead.]
[Nero only gets about two phrases deep because he's getting that disapproving look from Vergil again. He half-expects Nero to continue beyond what examples he provides, or at least threaten to do so, but he circles back around to Vergil's well-being again instead.]
After hearing all of that? No. I don't believe I am, [he says, dryly before giving a... Well, calling it a more honest answer seems dishonest when it's not the truth. But it's not another comment about Nero's vocabulary at least.] I told you I'm fine, Nero. It was just a moment of dizziness and nausea. It's passed.
[That disapproving look... man. He loves it so much. Applied to something pointlessly low-stakes like this? Absolutely worth it. Nero looks wickedly pleased with himself for a moment before, yes, we're back on the subject of Vergil's health.]
It's passed, you say, but you still look wobbly.
[He makes no accusations... just an observation.]
Maybe you better take it easy when we get home. Kyrie and I can cook dinner.
[His glance at Nero is a narrowed one when he's accused of looking "wobbly." Whatever the hell that is meant to mean. There is a degree to which there's palatable tension radiating off Vergil now.]
I am not wobbly, [he says, snapping a little in the process. If Nero were still under the impression that Vergil hadn't taken it as an accusation, that likely clarified that for him easily enough.] I know how to manage myself and am capable of determining what it is I need without your unnecessary input.
Now, for the last time, I am fine. You may end your prodding and questioning.
[The shitty attitude gets first wide eyes, then an outright glare from Nero.]
Excuse the fuck out of me, old man.
[But alas Vergil, for he is not dissuaded.]
If I was the one throwing up and stumbling, you'd be all over me trying to make sure I'm okay. I'm gonna do the same for you whether you like it or not.
I would do that because that is part of my responsibilities as your father, Nero. You heal and recover very nearly the same as a human would. Illness and injury pose a greater threat to you, and I could not possibly sit idly by while you are clearly suffering.
[And it may be tempting to throw that back at Vergil as the argument for issuing such concerns now, but he's quick to cut that off at the pass.]
I appreciate that you care, but unless you happen to find me on death's door again somehow, there is little reason to exercise such concern.
[Throwing up and being a little dizzy are hardly anything compared to what Vergil has survived through in the past, and absolutely do no merit alarm in his opinion. He's not at some great risk and he is not suffering. There's simply no need for such an overreaction from Nero.]
[Nero stops as well, pivoting to face him with a that glower out in full force. He folds his arms and looks very skeptical as Vergil tries to argue with him.
All this because the guy can't cop to having a little vertigo...]
I'm not a little kid. We're both adults. I get to look after you the same as you'd look after me.
[And FURTHERMORE...]
Why? What "little reason?" Do you guys not get sick or something?
[Not a little kid, but who is petulantly glaring with his arms folded right now? Vergil bites his tongue, however, knowing better than to point that out regardless of how...aggravating he's finding all of this. It's beside the point that he doesn't find the intensity of Nero's reciprocation of concern to be appropriate.]
I cannot speak for your uncle. I only know that the last time I can recall being ill was before my mother died, and I've little memory of it.
[It's not likely that Nero would exist if he had been prone to illness after that, but that is a fact he keeps to himself.]
Severe and significant injury has only ever posed a threat to my physical well-being for nearly forty years. And while I will concede that you struck well today, you haven't the power to do that much harm to me in a single strike as of yet. So, there is no reason to be worried.
[But that is certainly not the point of contention here, not really. Not the one he's going to let Vergil wriggle out of the discussion with. Yes, he does notice how he tries to do that from time to time.
But at the same time, he's not going to sit here and argue with him about whether or not he's feeling okay. If it's such a big damn deal he'll take Vergil's word for it.
So after a long, suspicious glare, Nero rolls his eyes and turns around to keep walking.]
Fine. Whatever you say. But don't get your panties in a twist over an honest question.
[One more Look back over his shoulder for good measure.] I'll worry about you if I damn well want to.
[Stubborn as the day is long... As if he needed evidence of their familial connection. Vergil folds his arms and remains there a moment longer, rolling his own eyes with the slightest shake of his head before following after Nero. Vergil stays silently a few paces behind. His silence is not likely particularly companionable right now, but it's not icy either. It simply is with Vergil opting not to push past the abrupt lull in their discussion with his health no longer being an available topic. Vergil doesn't find it comfortable to have Nero tell him to essentially accept that he's going to worry, but he isn't continuing to doubt Vergil and badger him with repeated questioning about how he feels. The sleeping dog can be left to lay there.]
[And a good thing, too. It's questionable he would have been able to walk and talk at any great length for long. Vergil unfolds his arms after a bit of walking, opening his chest up a bit as the air he inhales feels a little...thinner somehow. It does very little to alleviate the sensation. Even with as leisurely as their pace ultimately is, Vergil starts to feel increasingly winded. Vergil finds himself wanting to slow down, but he utterly refuses and keeps the same pace he has been. It's not long after that he begins to cough. It's not the retching coughs that came earlier, but a much drier cough.]
[Feral cat, Nero reminds himself. Feral cat. Even if it's annoying as fuck when he takes basic concern for his well-being as an attack. And his continued implication that Vergil The Father is the Carer and Nero The Son is the Cared For and that anything else is lunacy.
But you know, maybe he is being a little overbearing... he'd hate it too if he randomly puked and he had Vergil hovering all over him. Though he's hardly hovering, asking if he's okay twice and saying he maybe ought to rest when they go home... like what, does he got a hot date tonight? Gonna go swordfight with Mizu some more? Mizu will probably be delighted he's under the weather if it means he can get a few good stabs in. God damn, is this family fucking weird.
Vergil is slowing down behind him, so Nero does too. Then he hears the cough. Stops. Turns around. And gives Vergil this absolutely withering look of concern in lieu of asking if he's okay.]
[Vergil is forced to come to a stop when Nero does.]
Oh for the love of... [he mutters at that look he's receiving, rolling his eyes and folding his arms.] You might as well say it if you're going to look at me like that.
[Okay now he IS kind of being a shitty brat, but the last vestiges of offense at Vergil's earlier tone have now been worked out of his system. He's over it.
He shakes his head and turns around to walk again, albeit slower and at a pace Vergil can keep up with.]
[Vergil narrows his eyes at Nero's back as he steps away. To have the audacity...! And then to start walking so noticeably slower! No, Vergil opts to not let that one stand. He follows after for only as long as it takes to pass him at a normal pace. It does not matter that the beginnings of fatigue start to creep into his very bones, nor is he making it any sort of production the way his lungs burn just a touch over the exertion.]
[He is fine. And he refuses to be treated like he's a moment's notice from collapsing.]
[If Vergil deigns to glance at Nero as he passes by, he will witness the biggest, most dramatic eyeroll the world has ever seen. Seriously, dude?
But okay, sure. If he's feeling fine enough to rush ahead like a petulant little shit, who's Nero to tell him to stop? He just shakes his head and keeps going at the same pace as before, now free to watch his father from behind.]
[Vergil expects a comment from Nero to come at some point soon after he takes the lead, but his son appears to have fallen silent back there. Vergil is half-tempted to look over his shoulder back at him, but he resists the urge and keeps his eyes forward. Forward and focused on where he needs to go so he doesn't contemplate how sore he still feels or that he's breathing much harder than he ought to be at this pace.]
[Vergil can only mask so much even without scrutiny. The vertigo, he can hide well enough in motion with controlled steps, but just how much he feels he's exerting himself right now? Vergil can only do so much to keep his breathing even before that sensation of not getting enough air has him trying to take a deeper breath. Vergil pushes himself though. He's pushed through worse than this. Much worse.]
[That does not stop the pit of dread in his stomach thoughβwhich seems to be determined to remain somewhat cramping and uncomfortableβat the prospect of walking the entire way home. If he's already feeling this wiped, he is going to be laid out by the entire walk. And more or less proving Nero's point that he's not fine. He clenches his jaw, but he does not yet yield. Even with as much as he just wants to sit down and stop moving, Vergil cannot bring himself to do it.]
[He coughs again, this time the fit longer and stronger. Before, he could have written it off in the absence of any other symptoms as just having swallowed wrong or something similar. This fit, however, clearly tickles in the back of his throat and he has to stop walking. Vergil doubles over where he stands. The motion is dizzying, but the coughing has more of his attention at the moment to be concerned about that.]
[That and well, now that he has stopped walking, he can feel how distinctly exhausted he is from that alone.]
That damned Fox... [he growls between coughs.]
[Because he cannot think of any reason why he feels like this. He doesn't get ill. He's never been unable to push through fatigue and exhaustion. He barely knows what it is to be sore. And yet...]
[Like yeah, he knew his dad was feeling sick. But it must really be bad if Vergil can no longer hide it.
Nero waits for the coughing fit to really escalate before he steps up to him, setting a hand on his shoulder. He's not gonna say "I told you so." What's the point in rubbing it in and making this worse and more embarrassing than it must already be for him?
But like also... they ain't walking all the way back home when Vergil can barely walk.]
Come on, old man. [His tone is gently pressing, not mocking or smug.] Let's get home.
[Part of Vergil wants to recoil from the hand at his shoulder just like before, but the jig is well and truly up, and he's simply too tired to put in the effort of establishing his own space from Nero again. That feeling persists perhaps especially because of Nero's gentle tone with him, but it's that same gentleness that leaves it impossible for Vergil to dismiss him again.]
[For all that he doesn't really know what to do with it, anyways.]
[Historically, if Vergil found himself injured beyond what his healing ability could more immediately handle, he was always left on his own to manage the situation. He had to get himself somewhere safe. He had to vaguely tend to his wounds with his limited knowledge and resources. He had to remain vigilant for signs of a follow-up attack and be prepared to defend himself. It was always down to Vergil whether he lived or died.]
[Oh, sure. When he was still a young child and adolescence had not changed the interpretation of his condition from helpless innocent to suspicious miscreant, he perhaps could have hidden himself with some well-meaning family of humans. But there was a difference between using them for warm meals and a roof over his head for a few nights, and relying upon them to care for him. Even soon after his mother's death, Vergil doesn't think he would have tolerated it well despite how much he secretly craved it.]
[So, it's foreign still to acknowledge that he physically is not perfectly fine, and stranger yet to accept anything remotely close to help. Asked for or otherwise. His time as V had not changed that, and neither had that night Nero stayed with Vergil after Vergil had a nightmare.]
[He feels a small relief that Nero does not make the suggestion of carrying him. At the very least, Nero appears to be granting Vergil his dignity and still allowing him to broadly handle this.]
I should still be able, [he says with a slight nod. If it were under his own demonic power, Vergil doesn't know that he would be able to do it if walking has wiped him out as much as it has. But the portals are under the power of Yamato, not his. And he should yet still possess the strength now to wield it for that purpose if he managed it while he was dying.]
[Vergil doesn't hop to opening a portal though, standing there a moment to let himself breathe and allow the coughing to fully settle first. With his free hand, Vergil reaches for Nero's shoulder and pulls himself back upright by it, allowing Nero to help as he wills. The world spins again, but he leans some of his weight onto his son to maintain his balance. Vergil gives it a moment to lessen before releasing Nero and reaching to draw Yamato.]
[He offers Vergil as much assistance as he thinks he'll accept, a stable shoulder to pull himself up on, a steadying hand. He takes weight as Vergil leans it on him and shifts to stand sturdier.
It's a relief when Vergil doesn't start griping about it or trying to argue that he's fine to make the long walk back home when he's now stumbling and on the verge of hacking up a lung.
He's dreading the response to this, but has to put it out there...]
I can try too, if need be. [But for the moment he lets Vergil do it himself with no further insistence or comment.
He's letting him handle it for now... but Nero is not above whacking him on the head and fireman-carrying him home to give him the Tombstone into bed.]
[It would not be unwise for Nero to learn how to more effectively wield the Yamato. Vergil hardly possesses any intention of being separated from his blade again and Nero seems to have little interest in it (at least so long as Vergil is around), but there still yet may come a time when the Yamato serves as the line between life and death to a descendant of Sparda once more. And regardless, it is Nero's to inherit some day, and for his own progeny to inherit after him. He ought to know its power and how to properly wield it in case Vergil is not that to ensure such knowledge and skill is not forgotten.]
[But now is not that time to be so prudent. There are more immediate matters for them to concern themselves with than that. Vergil simply nods to the suggestion, not commenting on the merits of Nero trying one way or another. Straightened out, he takes a few steps away from Nero to provide himself with space to work.]
[Yamato has never felt quite so heavy in his hands before. Not even a child can he recall it feeling like this. Still, he draws the blade, slicing the air to draw open the portal. Little criticism can be given to his form. Even if Vergil's swings are slower to avoid potentially setting him off-balance again, he maintains his form. Tempting as it is to hold his breath until success or failure makes itself known, Vergil continues to match and maintain his breath as something alongside his movement. He draws a long, slow exhale until Yamato is fully sheathed, not allowing his posture to slack until the portal opens before him as expected.]
[He looks back to Nero, and waits for him rather than immediately stepping through.]
It would behoove you to learn one day, but it is not necessary today.
[It just seems kind of crap to take Vergil's beloved sword back from him again. It was one thing when he had no idea who Vergil was and Yamato was a gift given by Dante, who he also didn't know that well. Now that Vergil's alive and well and clearly attached to his weapon, Nero's not about to go demanding to practice with it like a brat.
There's also the fact it used to be his arm now, which... is weird, and actually way weirder than Nero even imagines it is. But that's beside the point.
He watches Vergil open the portal, frowning when he can see how much effort it is. The fucker didn't struggle with it so much when he was staggering out of the garage with Nero in a bleeding heap behind him. He must really be sick. But like he said, does Vergil even get sick? He'd muttered something about the damn Fox... was this her doing again?
Nero just nods at his assertion and steps through the portal. Shit will never feel less weird, but it's undeniably convenient at a time like this. He reappears in their driveway on the other side, and once Vergil has joined him he offers him that shoulder again.]
C'mon. You should sit and rest for a bit. You want some tea, or like a ginger ale?
[The portal collapses and closes shortly after Vergil crosses its threshold and joins Nero on the driveway. He spares a glance at the offered shoulder, but ultimately chooses not to take it. He'd already walked so far on his own that he is not about to suffer the indignity of someone supporting him make the ultimately short distance from where they stand to the couch.]
Ginger tea is fine, [he says, heading for the front door. Even if he's still perhaps a bit too prideful and stubborn to let Nero help him walk, Vergil doesn't adopt his usual pace and takes it a bit easier in getting there.] If you're feeling adventurous and wish for some yourself, you may add a squeeze of lemon and a bit of honey to the pot.
[He doesn't call Nero directly out for the faces he makes at some of the tea blends Vergil drinks, but that doesn't mean he doesn't notice how much Nero is trying very hard not to make any of them when he knows Vergil is looking in his direction.]
And if you are so dedicated to treating me as an invalid, you ought to return some of my books to the library before the end of today. [Because he had plans today, but it's clear that Nero will not allow for any of them.] Just bring the stack in my room to me and I will separate the ones that need to be returned from those I am keeping for a while longer.
And extend an apology to Mizu for my absence if you happen to cross paths.
[Since those plans are similarly tossed out the window now.]
[The rejection of further aid is expected. But at least Vergil's putting in a tea order. Meaning he's not gonna argue about that and try to make himself a four course afternoon tea menu or some shit.
Even he he follows it up with an absolute load of self-pity guilt shit, which makes Nero verbally scoff.]
Oh, shut up. Treating you like an invalid. Don't be such a drama queen.
[He closes the door behind them. His backpack gets tossed to one side of the doorway. Red Queen is delicately slid off his back and placed on the other, like an umbrella.]
It's not anybody's fault you're sick. Sucks, man! But what, are you gonna go to the library like this? Or be in any shape for Mizu?
[He claps Vergil on the shoulder as he passes by, on the way to the kitchen.]
Just take it easy. I'll take your books back, you take a nap. Maybe you'll sleep it off and feel better after.
[Vergil makes a face at being accused of being a drama queen. Rich coming from someone who just offered to walk him to the front door as though he could not manage it on his own, but... Vergil chooses to bite his tongue. Even if there is a slight growl at being clapped on the shoulder and he has to grip Yamato all the tighter to keep himself firmly planted where he stands.]
I don't nap.
[Which is less about Vergil being particularly stubborn and more just a statement of fact. Vergil's sleeping habits have not changed since they moved into the house from his studio apartment. He sleeps when he must, but he limits that to sleeping at night. He gets the minimum amount required. Nothing more, nothing less.]
[But if his suspicions that this is the Fox's doing are at all correct, he doubts very much that any amount of sleep will alleviate it. There will inevitably be some other kind of trick to curing what ails him, and it's most likely deeply unrelated to any sort of medical intervention. Most likely he needs to confess some deep dark secret or complete a random act of kindness or some other such interpersonal nonsense to appease her.]
[Vergil sits on the couch, using Yamato to control his descent to sitting. He's not really in any danger of collapsing, but he doesn't want to provide any impression that he's close to doing so. It feels much better to be sitting and he must stifle the relieved sigh at being off his feet.]
If you do happen to see Mizu, I do not particularly care what excuse you provide, but do not mention of any of this to him, [he says, moving Yamato to rest against the arm of the couch nearby. There's a small beat before he adds a quieter,] Please.
[There come the sounds of clinking and cabinets closing as Nero goes digging for the tea. The sink runs as he fills the kettle with water, then a click and a clunk as he places it on the burner and cranks the heat up high.
Nero then comes out to the couch, but doesn't sit. He leans over the back beside where Vergil is seated, resting his chin on his fist as he studies his poor, ill, pleading father.
His voice takes on that gentler tone again. It's the one he uses when Julio or one of the other boys starts getting outrageously fussy. He is not ever going to tell Vergil that.]
Dad, there's nothing wrong with not feeling well. Why would Mizu hold it against you?
[Vergil frowns at Nero when he asks the question about Mizu.]
That's notβ... Iβ [It's with a huff that he comes to fold his arms and looks off towards the fireplace. Vergil purses his lips to keep himself from continuing until he can manage to speak without sputtering again.] Just do as I ask, Nero.
I'm gonna. I'll tell him you fell into a hole or something. I just don't get what the fuss is about.
[He doesn't really intend to pry, either. Didn't know it was such a touchy thing to leave Vergil actually sputtering about it.
And in the interest of not prying, he tries to change the subject before it seems like he might be.]
Listen. [He sets one hand squarely atop Vergil's head, ruffling his hair in a familiar manner.] If you want me to fuck off, I will. But being sick sucks ass, and you shouldn't have to deal with it by yourself. I wanna help.
[Vergil's frown deepens once it registers what Nero is doing to his hair. He ducks away from Nero's hand, swatting at it until Nero takes it back and Vergil can sit back upright without further ruffling. Loosened strands likely draw out more of the family resemblance between Vergil and Dante, but Vergil does not allow them to be for very long. He makes a small, annoyed noise before pushing his hair back into place, but does not give Nero an answer right away. His hands fall back down to his lap, and still he says nothing.]
[Nero presents it as a binary choice, and Vergil supposes it is. Either he allows Nero to help or he denies him. (Although, who is to say that the stubborn child will not still force the issue even if Vergil says he does not want any help?]) Vergil does not truthfully know what he wants. Glaring at them as though the answer might present itself if he glares long and hard enough, his hands curl into light fists in his lap. Everything within him loathes the idea of allowing himself any sort of dependency upon anyone else. It bristles and goes on the offense immediately, ready to do whatever it might take for him to hide away until this illness passes. But a part of him... A part of him knows the promises he's made to Nero about not handling things alone. It also knows how that night wasn't nearly as long or terrible as it could have been when Nero stayed with him after her a nightmare.]
I've looked after myself for nearly forty years. There was no one else. [Part of him wants to be uncharitable and say no one ever wanted to be there, but he knows that's not true. Vergil never gave anyone the opportunity to try. He never asked them to stay, and he always ran. And then he was so far removed from even himself that... But regardless still of the reasons why no one was ever there to look after him, Vergil was still alone.] Even if there had been, they could not have done anything.
[They would have died. And then Vergil would have as well. Simple as that.]
I'm fine on my own. [He tightens his fists in his lap, pursing his lips.] But if you wish to make yourself useful, I am not exactly in a position to stop you.
It makes sense, and it isn't far off from what Nero guessed might be the issue. Vergil spent so long alone, dealing with everything alone, he's terminally unable to back down from that position of independence and self-reliance. And when other people notice he's vulnerable or worse, point out to him that he's vulnerable-- by offering to help, perhaps-- it feels like an attack.
He can kind of relate, honestly. Nero used to be similar, isolating himself, insisting on working alone whenever possible. But after a certain point he was never really left to his own devices. He had Credo, or Dante, or Kyrie. Always, always Kyrie. But it can't be easy to break oneself out of that mindset.
Somehow refraining from going for the hair-ruffle again, he lets out a soft sigh and stands up again. Just another knot of his father's demeanor he's gonna try to untie, slowly and gently.]
I know you're fine on your own. But you don't have to be, if you don't want to be for a while.
[He leaves it at that for the moment, turning to head to Vergil's room to grab those books he was talking about before the tea gets ready. And honestly, he's not gonna get any better agreement from Vergil than "I'm not in a position to stop you," because aid is a thing being done unto him that he must suffer rather than anything he'll feel comfortable welcoming.
[Vergil glances over the back of the couch as Nero steps away towards Vergil's bedroom, but says nothing to Nero's assertion one way or another. He turns his attention back over to the fireplace, at the family portrait above the mantle. Vergil was barely older than that when he found himself on his own. His gaze drifts to the hand on his shoulder in the painting before looking to the last person who tried and he allowed to look after him. At least until... Vergil glances in the direction of his bedroom again with a quiet sigh.]
[He wouldn't be here if that child hadn't protected and carried him through to the finish line nearly two years ago by Vergil's measure now. It's simple fact.]
[By the time Nero emerges with the books, Vergil has removed his boots and tucked his legs beneath him on the couch. It's about as relaxed as Vergil tends to sit on the couch. He looks over to Nero when he hears his approaching footfalls.]
Fucking hell, did you check out the whole library?
[He... thinks he got them all. Vergil's room is, by his estimation, about 75% covered in books. Nero grabbed all the ones that appear to be from the library, with the stickers and spines and everything, and it takes all four of his arms to carry them out into the living room in four huge stacks.
One wing sets down its stack, then the other. Then they vanish as Nero lowers to the coffee table and sets down the other two stacks.]
I'm gonna have to rent a truck to bring these all back.
Now who is being dramatic? [Vergil scoffs lightly at Nero's commentary about the amount of books he's checked out.] You act as though you could not comfortably carry a truck filled with books.
[He shifts in his seat, putting his feet back on the floor so he can sit on the edge of the couch, closer to the coffee table. He takes some of the books off the first stack into his lap and begins with his neat little piles. One stack on the floor for those that will be returned and a stack on the couch beside him for those he's keeping.]
[...As he's sorting, he turns a light shade of pink as he realizes the trashy romance novel Oleandra insisted he read still hasn't been returned. It is quickly shoved into the middle of the return stack where it will hopefully remain unnoticed. He thought he returned it weeks ago now, but it would seem it got lost among the rest. Perhaps he ought to take more time to go through the books in his room more often to avoid situations like this in the future. He moves on to continue sorting.]
If it would be easier for carrying the books, the bags I use for the farmer's market are in the kitchen. They should hold them easily enough.
I can, [thanks for noticing!] but I'm still gonna need the truck for that, huh?
[Nero waits patiently as Vergil sorts through his books. He takes one off the top of the return stack, looking at it curiously and opening it up. On the first page, his face scrunches up slightly. The scrunching increases as he works his way down the page. Finally he snaps it shut and returns it to the pile, shaking his head. Is that even in English?
He turns a similar shade of pink, hoping Vergil didn't just notice that.]
If you're not too dizzy, you could get some reading in. [He doesn't need to tell Vergil that, really, but it's a diplomatic suggestion for something he might do while he's under the weather.] Catch up those 17 or 18 books you're behind on...
[Despite the sheer volume of books, the return pile is actually carrying the lead. To say Vergil's literary appetite is voracious is perhaps a significant understatement.]
If that is to be my aim then you should take a list of books to check out when you go, [he says without looking up, remaining otherwise focused on his task.] Otherwise, I fear I will run out.
[He pauses on one of the books. Its cover gives away that it's a far more modern novel than Vergil's usual fare, and one look into the pages will find it not written with words that fell out of favor decades if not centuries ago with clear, direct syntax. Looking up, Vergil holds it out to Nero.]
You may wish to keep this one separate and check it out for yourself if they lack an audio version. You may find the protagonist a kindred spirit given his equally foul mouth.
[He's probably about to make another crack when Vergil hands him the book. He looks a little surprised but takes it, looking it over. Then he opens up to the first page and skims the text, mouthing the words silently as he gets to the bottom without any severe face scrunching.]
What is it? Did you read it? [He glances up at Vergil curiously.]
[While Nero busies himself with reading the first page, Vergil resumes his organizing. With the first stack of books organized, he transfers his keep pile to the coffee table for ease and pulls the first few books off the second stack.]
It is a spy thriller. It was featured as a recommended novel by a member of the library staff. The cover and title looked a bit more like a movie poster, so I thought you might like it. I took the liberty of reading it first just in case it didn't live up to first impressions. I hope you don't mind. I just know you find some mysteries to plod along and didn't want to waste your time with it if it didn't suit you after all. But there's enough action and twists that the novel keeps a quick pacing. I believe you'll find it exciting until the end, and may perhaps even make a few guesses at the truth as you read.
[Vergil isn't exactly winded by how much he speaks, but he feels that shortness of breath from earlier. He lets out a harsh little exhale as he continues placing books in their appropriate piles. Talking a lot and with the sort of passion that always comes out of Vergil when he starts talking about anything literary appears to be just as much of a potential trigger for his symptoms as overexerting himself with physical activity.]
[Irritating, to say the least. It's not as though Vergil really talks all that much to begin with...]
Nero, would you mind bringing me a glass of water as well when you bring out the tea?
[Nero continues examining the book as Vergil... well. Exposits about it, with great passion and thorough detail. It's not like Nero reads for fun that often, even as he's been dutifully plodding his way through Little Women and Frankenstein because his mother liked them. But a book that Vergil picked out and read, specifically because he thought Nero might like it? When it doesn't seem to suit his taste at all?
There is a sweet, genuine affection in the smile he cracks as he turns pink and glances away, setting the book aside in its own pile.] Sounds really cool. Thanks. I'll check it out.
[He nods to the affirmative regarding the water. And in fact, the kettle is just about to boil, so Nero ducks off to the kitchen to take care of it.
He returns a few minutes later with the tea in the pot, two teacups, and a large glass of ice water, all of which he carefully sets apart from the book piles.]
[By the time Nero returns with the tea, Vergil has cleared the second stack and is making a decent dent into the third. Although the ratio has perhaps shifted a bit to an increase in how many books are to be kept, it's obvious still that more books need returning than those that are still in need of reading. He glances at it as Nero sets it down, silently appreciative that he keeps it carefully apart from the books.]
Assuming you did not over-steep it this time.
[What might seem like a critical remark is actually a gentle tease at some of Nero's early attempts at brewing tea for Vergil. Although really, who was the one to still choke it down to avoid hurting the other's feelings? Arguably, that one is the bigger fool of the two.]
[Vergil finishes with the handful of books he's brought to his lap before he reaches for the tea.]
[He scoffs and teases back.] It's ginger tea, you can't over-steep it. [...Also he set a timer. Those early attempts were totally embarrassing. No wonder he thinks tea is fucking gross when he's been making it wrong, turns out.
Vergil will also find that he did not add the lemon and honey, knowing Vergil would probably prefer it straight.]
Kyrie was gonna go shopping today. When she's back later she's gonna want to make you soup. Fair warning... it'll be the best soup you've ever had.
[Vergil pours both cups, setting the pot down and taking his as Nero makes mention of Kyrie and the threat of soup. He sighs a little because he knows already the matter of Kyrie is going to be a far more difficult situation to navigate than his son. Especially when aforementioned son is so fiercely protective of her.]
Let's see how I do with tea before introducing soup...
[Right now, he cannot say the thought of eating something particularly appeals to him regardless of what it is or how good it tastes. The cramping in his stomach has subsided enough that he doesn't feel nearly so in danger of vomiting again, but he is not keen on agitating his stomach again further.]
[He takes a sip of his tea.]
Could you perhaps convince her to wait until tomorrow if I do not feel hungry today? I imagine it would be upsetting to her if after I ate, I were to "blow chunks" as you so delicately put it. [And Vergil will not be in the mood to offer reassurances to her. At least, that is the implicit argument he is trying to make with this.] I promise I will try to eat it then if I am not feeling able to eat today.
[Vergil carefully frames it around the matter of his stomach and hunger because they are factors. But the real issue is that Kyrie can be... Well, to put it delicately, a lot. She feels a lot of emotions and quite intensely, and Vergil doesn't know what to do with half of them on a good day. Vergil does not know how much he is up for after already having to navigate Nero's concern to have Kyrie pile hers on as well. Especially when he knows how delicate her feelings are and how utterly indelicate he is in turn. It's not a good combination, and it would be wise for Nero to play a bit of interference if Vergil is not up for it today.]
[Yes, he knows he's inviting in all of Nero's preaching about the virtues of his girlfriend by saying as much. Even a compliment as small as that can inspire several minutes effortlessly. But it is a statement of fact that Kyrie is kind, too. How else should someone whose immediate thought was to repay him even before she'd even begun to properly warm up because described?]
Although I believe you underestimate her persistence.
[It's true that Kyrie would not likely do well with Vergil's more foul moods. Any sort of irritability from him, a forceful or unkind word, and she's likely to not just fold, she will outright crumble. But there was no amount of telling her that it was unnecessary to repay him meant she was going to let what he did for her in Wintermute and bringing her home to Nero go unanswered. Were she not so determined in her own right, Kyrie likely would not have lasted as Nero's girlfriend for long. How could she with as stubborn as he is?]
That said, if either of you attempt a bedside vigil at any point, child, you will find yourself to be the one in need of it.
[It is largely a hollow threat in that Vergil would not actually follow through on it. But the point of avoiding a big production about this mystery illness remains a true one nonetheless. Making Vergil tea and soup, and being willing to exchange his books at the library are enough and already more than he's accustomed to or finding comfortable to tolerate. He takes another sip of his tea before setting it aside to resume sorting his library books. He's a little over halfway at this point, so he may as well concentrate efforts on finishing.]
[Vergil is spared from further gushing by that simple statement, for once. Nero could go on and on about how Kyrie once saw he was working in the training yard with a cold, and insistently shuffled him off to his dorm to rest, where she brought him fresh fruit and tea and a stack of comic books he had no idea she owned or where she acquired them. Once he was out of the orphanage she was the only one who ever showed her concern for his personal well being-- apart from Credo, who that same day had given him a side-eye and said "you should stop for the day and go rest," then continued on down the line. That was the way he did concern.
Uh. Anyway.
He laughs at the threat, picturing the mental image of a vexed, frustrated Vergil trying to strangle Nero through his vertigo and coughing fits.]
Okay. But if you start zoning out and quoting Keats, I'm gonna do what I gotta do. Deal?
[Vergil pauses a moment in his sorting and raises a slight eyebrow albeit not out of confusion or skepticism. If anything, he's...impressed by Nero's reference. The boy has been quite open about how often the poems Vergil favors tend to fly over his head, and he doesn't always understand the appeal of them. But it would appear something has sunk in enough for him to make a reference like that.]
If I am dissociating and quoting Keats, the matter has truly turned dire and I doubt I will be capable of any sort of protest at that point even if I do still possess enough awareness to object, [he says with a slight shake of his head as he places the next book in his lap on the keep pile. He's already read it once, but if he's to be cooped up for any length of time, he may not mind reading it again. He then offers his more explicit, playful agreement in Nero's preferred vernacular.] Deal. Whatever you feel is necessary, you may do.
[Check it out! A Poetry Thing stuck in Nero's brain! (He recalls the bookstore clerk gushing about the tragedy of John Keats while Nero uncomfortably shuffled with his hands in his pockets, trying to subtly encourage him to just ring up the book.)
Also: "dissociating" = "zoning out." Noted.
Chuckling at his father's slangy agreement, he puts out a hand for a fistbump. This... may or may not end with him sheepishly recovering the hand a few seconds later.]
[Vergil does not notice the offered hand at first, focused more on his books when Nero first extends it. But he happens to glance up, and oh. What is he supposed to do with that again? His brow furrows a little as he tries to recall the fuss Dante made about it. He recalls more of Dante's whining about leaving him "hanging" at first, but then he thinks he vaguely recalls what he is supposed to do.]
[Vergil very lightly bumps his knuckles against Nero's before resuming his task. Hopefully, he got it right and did not just make a fool of himself. Vergil is quick to return to his books, his complexion perhaps a touch pinker for it.]
It depends on their length and how long I can go without some form of interruption, [he says to Nero's question, giving him a brief look that indicates yes, Nero is one such interruption.] But I would say three would be the lower end, five on the upper end.
[He blinks a little at Nero's reaction, the color in his complexion not abating immediately.]
Yes, well. [Vergil clears his throat a little and looks back at the books he's sorting.] I enjoy reading...
[He does not have much by way of hobbies otherwise. There is only ever so much to do with gardening and without necessarily a direction given towards cooking, he's a bit more...listless with that. So, reading it is. As it always has been. As he told Nero, he had a bookshelf like the one in his room now as a child, but the difference that it was actually full of his own books. He'd read so many of them cover to cover several times.]
I know. It's just impressive. You're really smart.
[It's good there's a library close by that can feed that voracious habit of his. Just makes Nero wish he was a little better at it himself. Though he fully intends to sit down and push through that book Vergil picked out for him, come hell or high water. Maybe even when he gets back from dropping the books off.
It, uh... is not going to be a one-sitting thing for him, most likely.]
[He hums lightly as he reaches for the top of fourth and final stack to sort.]
I suppose I am better off not asking if you're only just now figuring that out, [he says, the joke being at his expense given just how much reason he's provided Nero to think him otherwise. Not that he believes any of this to truly be a reflection of his intelligence, anyways. The most that can actually be said is that he is well-read and is making up for a tremendous amount of lost time with the library at his disposal.] Your uncle doesn't understand why I frequent the library so much instead of owning the books myself. The question isn't entirely unreasonable considering how modest my collection is now compared to what I owned during my childhood, but I believe you can see why it's best I continue making use of the library.
[Even if he owned only a fraction of the books he's read since coming to Folkmore, he wouldn't have had the ability to walk or move around in his studio apartment by the time Nero and Dante joined him. And at this point, in the house, they most certainly would have escaped containment from his bedroom and overtaken much of the living room.]
[There is also the small matter that he will not be able to take any of these books with him when they leave this realm eventually. Vergil has spent most of his life unattached to objects, and he would like to remain as such until he can actually enjoy a true degree of permanency.]
[He could make a comment about there being different types of intelligence... but Nero is good enough to only laugh at Vergil's self-effacing joke. After all, it's not like he's a mega genius of any sort. And he still remembers the offense Vergil took the time he teased him for being a book nerd. He prefers to approach that particular angle of humor very carefully, if he approaches it at all.]
Yeah, it's better this way. No interventions. No coming home to find you crushed under a stack of books the size of a building...
[He looks at a few more of the books from the stacks as Vergil works through them. Opens to the first page and skims the text... sometimes nodding, sometimes making a face and shaking his head before quickly putting them back in the stack.]
[Vergil huffs a quiet laugh at the notion of being crushed beneath the weight of his own literary habits. Beyond his own typical restraint when it comes to generally emoting, he keeps the laughter contained to avoid potentially bringing on another coughing fit. He smiles a little at Nero's consternation with some of the books he looks at while Vergil finishes organizing the last of them into their two separate piles.]
There, [he says, placing the last book in the pile to be sent back to the library.] That's all of them that need to be returned.
[From his "keep" pile, Vergil selects one of the books before reaching for his tea again. He tucks his legs back underneath him on the couch, settling back to where he was before when Nero first brought out the small mountain of books. He doesn't have any interest in lying about in bed, but imagines Nero is going to insist he stay put. So, he might as well have something to keep him occupied while Nero is out.]
[Ha, ha. Made Dad laugh-- even if it was quiet and contained.
Vergil finishes sorting the stacks and Nero sighs a bit at just how many there are. No, it's nothing he can't handle... particularly with four arms. But it's also not gonna be the quick, easy errand he expected.
He's not about to make a big deal out of it. Nothing that would discourage Vergil from sitting the fuck down and getting some fucking rest while he's sick.]
Okay. I'll drop these off for you. You want anything from the market while I'm out?
I haven't a need for anything personally, and the kitchen should be well-stocked. I went to the farmer's market only a few days ago.
[But if that isn't the case, Kyrie will surely let Nero know sooner rather than later. With Vergil out of the rotation of people to make meals for the foreseeable future, he imagines she will volunteer to pick up the slack while Nero is worrying about Vergil. Which Vergil knows that boy is going to do even if Vergil happens to be the most compliant possible patient.]
[That's a joke. He hopes it's taken as a joke. Not entirely certain it will be but, hey...
With the help of his shopping bags, Nero manages to pack up more of the books without having to resort to superpowers of any sort. It is, however, more books than any normal person could comfortably carry, made featherlight by his strength.
He departs then, leaving Vergil to his own devices for round about an hour.]
[Vergil heaves a sigh once Nero is gone, allowing himself to slump a little more where he sits on the couch. He remains convinced that this is Thirteen's doing, which means it's not likely something he can just wait out like one would a normal illness of this magnitude. There has to be something that needs to be done before his symptoms will truly abate. But what is he meant to do like this? If he can barely walk without feeling the world sway beneath his feet, there's not much hope for being able to really engage with others as so often tends to be the solution.]
[It's only a few minutes ultimately that he spends pondering this condition in Nero's absence. With little ability to investigate himself right now, he sets it aside to read instead. By the time Nero returns, Vergil is more or less exactly where Nero left him. He occupies the same corner of the couch, but has left a leg extended on the couch itself. At some point, he poured himself a second cup of tea, but it's since been forgotten and left to go cold while the glass of water Nero brought him remains untouched. It's not some form of childish protest, however, that he's neglecting any further liquid intake. He's nearly a hundred pages deep already into his novel, and it's likely clear from how he does not look up from the book in his hands or say anything by way of greeting that he is merely engrossed rather than being particularly stubborn.]
[At the very least, no aerobics happened and he stayed put.]
[Once Nero is a couple steps into the house, he finally speaks albeit somewhat absentmindedly.]
Did you manage alright without the truck?
[He finishes the page before finally looking over to Nero.]
Yeah, only mildly threw my back out, once or twice...
[Nero is carrying fewer books than he left with, by a good margin. But he's not empty-handed as expected. He walks up to the couch and sets a book bag with expertly-stacked titles alongside it.]
Whole bunch of your holds were ready, so I checked them out for you. This oughta last you... [He pretends to be doing math in his head.] Three days?
[The surprise Vergil experiences at seeing Nero not return empty-handed doesn't exactly cross Vergil's face sans the way he shyly averts his gaze briefly while Nero sets the books down. The pleasantness of the surprise is a little more evident though with Vergil's slight smile.]
I'll try to stretch it out to four, and give your back more time to recover. [Vergil shifts and moves on the couch to provide Nero with room to sit, tucking his knees close so he can rest his current book against them with a single hand. He's tempted to say that Nero didn't have to do that, but it's a foolish thing to point out something so obvious. Nero didn't have to go to the library in the first place, never mind picking up some of Vergil's holds. He did it anyway. Because that's the sort of person that he is.] Thank you, Nero.
Sure. Anytime. [Nero's practically beaming at the thanks, and even moreso at the smile. Honestly, his motives were to encourage Vergil to actually get some rest while he's sick. Best way to do that? Positive reinforcement via his favorite hobby and books that he wanted to read anyway.
That smile, though. Man, it's worth all the headaches and hoops sometimes just to see his dad smile at him like that.
It's a moment before Nero actually sits. He goes to the kitchen first to get a glass of water for himself. Makes a detour to kick off his shoes. Then he circles back around the couch with one more book in hand-- the one Vergil mentioned that he might like, which he checked out himself this time.
He flops on the couch next to Vergil and makes himself comfortable, showing every intention of settling in to read.]
[As Nero steps away into the kitchen for his glass of water, Vergil turns his attention back to his book. Normally, he would anticipate Nero's return to the couch would be his only warning before one of his three living, breathing weighted blankets made himself at home. But this time, Vergil is uncertain. He doesn't think Nero is about to treat him like a precious thing, easily broken if mishandled even slightly. It would only agitate Vergil given enough time if he did that, and that's not Nero's intention. However, considering the earlier upending of Vergil's stomach, he wouldn't necessarily fault Nero for wanting to take it a little easier on Vergil right now as far as jostling him around is concerned.]
[Vergil glances up, and ultimately does a slight double-take when Nero settles onto the couch. Nero's gotten past most of his self-consciousness about how he reads. So, the sight of him with a book or willingness to read in Vergil's presence isn't unheard of these days. Nero's selections, however, tend to be among the books Beatrice loved or one of Vergil's books of poetry. They're books he can only tolerate in small bursts as such, and Nero's enjoyment of them is at times limited. (Which is all well and good when Nero is most likely reading them for the sake of a connection between himself and his parents, not necessarily for his entertainment.) Thus, it's more happenstance than anything that Vergil comes across Nero reading. Nero sitting down with Vergil with the intention of reading himself (and reading a recommendation Vergil made, no less) is a far more novel experience.]
[And a pleasing one at that. Not that Vergil's minded the hours upon hours of wrestling and movies he's chosen to watch with Neroβhe's actually gotten more invested in both than he thought he would in the beginningβbut Vergil possesses far more limited hobbies for Nero to choose from, and he's not ignorant enough to believe that reading wouldn't occupy a fairly low position on Nero's list of preferred activities in general.]
Hm? [As it turns out, Vergil was a little distracted by his silent marveling at Nero choosing to read with him.] Oh. Yes, I feel fine right now.
The dizziness was only occurring when I moved too quickly. Reading doesn't exactly require particularly quick movements that would trigger it again.
[Which is a good thing because if he was too dizzy to read...]
Bite your tongue if your next words have any resemblance to "I told you so."
Hey now. [Nero laughs at the pre-emptive warning, and leans his head back in a playful backwards head bonk, nudging Vergil's leg as he lies down with his feet hanging over the arm of the couch.] I didn't say shit, old man.
[... and he wasn't going to say "I told you so." Probably. Most likely. At least, not in a way where he meant it as more than a way to annoy his father...
Nero does settle in, pulling out the book and thumbing through it before he starts attempting to read in earnest. This is honestly more about making Vergil feel better about bailing on their spar, about cutting short their afternoon than it is that he really desires to sit and read right now, but... hey. His dad's sick for possibly the first time in his life. He could use a little company, so he might as well get started on this book while he's at it.
Reading alongside Nero does offer a few minor challenges though. It's not silent for long before he speaks up.]
[At this point, Vergil is well accustomed to the disruptions to his reading when he isn't alone with it. With Dante, it's incessant chatter about whatever comes to mind which Vergil has gotten quite good at tuning out. Well. He tunes most of it out. Dante still has the tendency to occasionally say something that sparks his temper or otherwise hooks him into a conversation whether he likes it or not. And if it's not that, then it's Dante's need to constantly keep moving that eventually pulls Vergil from his book to deal with his little brother elbowing him in the side or nearly clocking Vergil in the jaw with a knee or foot every couple of minutes. Mizu has a tendency to read with Vergil albeit she favors nonfiction, typically reading something that contributes to her research on London. So, occasionally, she shares something she's read or asks him a question to clarify the veracity of whatever claim has been made by the author. Most of the time, a brief response is all she needs. It's rare that she goes looking for conversation, and she tends to be just as still as Vergil. Nero, oddly enough, tends to occupy a middle ground between Dante and Mizu on both fronts when he hangs about while Vergil reads. If he chooses to make conversation with Vergil, he tends to either keep it brief or something that will be of interest to him. He can't keep nearly as still as Mizu, but it's blatantly obvious to Vergil that Nero tries his very best to tamp down his urge to fidget lest Vergil nudges him back into his own space.]
[Thus, Vergil never held any expectation that Nero would stay perfectly still nor perfectly quiet with his own book. At some point, he was bound to speak or move, or both. Vergil hardly minds, glancing up briefly from his own reading.]
Tantalized means to have tempted someone with something they really want, but without giving it to them. It's typically an impossible desire they're being tempted with, but not always. It's derived from Tantalus in Greek mythology, if you're familiar.
[Which he says as a way for Nero to remember the meaning of the word easier, not to condescend or make him feel stupid for not being able to guess at the word's meaning. Honestly, if Nero doesn't know the myth, that's a mark of failure on the part of schooling in Fortuna either for only teaching the myths surrounding Sparda or being unable to actively engage Nero in learning. Regardless, it's not a reflection of his son as far as Vergil is concerned.]
[Nero never cared all that much about school, or the ways in which he struggled with it. It was mostly boring as hell, and a waste of time that could have been better spent doing other things: playing outside, learning to fight, exploring the forest, listening to music, watching his forbidden TV... climbing on rooftops... going places he wasn't supposed to... Reading in particular never came easily for him, words getting all jumbled up in his head and making long passages increasingly difficult to understand. It was also unengaging, mostly dry-ass churchy shit about Sparda (sorry Gramps, but it was probably all fake anyway, right?) He liked comic books (the visuals and smaller amount of text help,) and he's read more than a few technical manuals trying to decipher them. But apart from that, reading for pleasure was not his thing.
Since meeting Vergil and learning about his mother, there's been times he's become self-conscious about his thoroughly average-to-below average reading interest and ability. Initially, he feared that his father might think he was stupid or slow. It felt like one more irreconcilable difference between them, one more way Nero could fail at being a good enough son to acknowledge.
Most of that, thankfully, has gone away. Vergil even reads to him now and then, and he finds it easier to understand by listening. He's even comfortable enough to ask for word definitions when needed (more often than he'd like.)
But still... it is a little embarrassing to admit when he's not getting a reference.]
Greek mythology? I don't know anything about that...
[But then a memory slowly dawns on him. Kyrie loves to read, and back in the day she would notice how Nero grumbled or slowly drifted his attention away from any attempts. So sometimes she'd offer to read to him, action-packed or scary books or things she knew he'd be more interested in. More often than not, Nero was too busy being enamored with Kyrie to pay attention to the book.
[It's not altogether that surprising for Vergil to hear that Nero doesn't understand the reference. He's about explain it a little further when Nero chimes in with his reference that Vergil doesn't understand as indicated by the slight furrow in his brow as he looks up.]
I assume that's a film...?
[Vergil hesitates to say that it's based on anything in Greek mythology. What film adaptations Nero has shown Vergil have varied wildly in how closely they follow their source material for better or for worse, and he doesn't know where Greek mythology would land exactly. Vergil feels safe assuming it would likely vary greatly depending on the myth in question as to how far it might stray. Some of them were quite action-packed after all, and would probably make for great cinema in Nero's eyes, but others would probably be as interesting to him as watching grass grow if they were presented at all authentically. The title gives nothing away as to what myth it's referring to exactly, however. Hence his hesitation.]
Yeah, it's one of those old fantasy movies with the stop-motion monsters and stuff. Pegasus? And Medusa? And the lady chained to the rock, with the sea monster?
[He... THINKS that's Greek mythology? All the names the same as star constellations and all. That means it's Greek, right?
Oh, and-]
Ah, and Hercules? I mean, he wasn't in Clash of the Titans but I saw those movies too.
[Well, now that's just confusing. Although not the part about Hercules' absence from Clash of the Titans.]
I would hope he wasn't included in something meant to tell the story of Perseus given he is both his younger half-brother and great-grandson... [Vergil shakes his head a little as he momentarily closes his book, leaving a finger between pages to hold his place. He gets to the part that does not make much sense.] How exactly did this film get its title? Perseus' myth comes after the Titanomachy, and if memory serves, Atlas is the only Titan ever remotely associated with him depending on the author.
[He frowns a little further.]
Of course, setting aside the inaccuracy to the original myth, Perseus' story has enough story to be told on its own between the slaying of Medusa and Cetus without the addition of the Titans. They are not included in the film, are they?
[Vergil really cannot think it would be any good under those circumstances because there's creative liberties and then there's simultaneously bloating and diluting a narrative needlessly.]
[Nero does not outright say "what on earth are you talking about?" It is at least mildly written all over his face, though.
He lets Vergil ramble for a moment, then catches the question and tries to remember the movie. He's seen it more recently than on his handheld television but it was still a while ago.]
Uh... no. I don't think there are any titans, come to think of it. [A beat.] It's a good movie though. We should watch it sometime.
[Then he cracks a sly grin, upside-down from his spot leaning his head on Vergil's leg.] You can tell me all the ways it's not the same as the book.
[He heaves a sigh with a slight shake of his head.]
I am beginning to yearn for the days when you were less cognizant of how much you are able to get away with by virtue of being my son. [Patently untrue. While he can't say he exactly enjoys being wound up on purpose like that so often, Vergil doesn't entirely mind it either. And he would certainly prefer Nero doesn't feel he needs to walks on eggshells around him either. It's better that they both don't feel such a hair's breadth away from everything falling apart. With his free hand, he grabs hold of Nero's face by his chin to scrunch up that shit-eating grin.] How unfortunate that polite young man was all but an illusion. Instead, I have this foolish hooligan to call my kin.
[He gives Nero's head a little shake before letting him go.]
I'll watch your film that is likely littered with egregious inaccuracies, but you would do well to learn more Greek mythology beyond what you would see on a screen, child. It may even lead to you appreciate things you already like more than you do now.
Sorry there, Pops. You were gonna figure it out sooner or later.
[Remember when Vergil and Nero were too uneasy to even touch one another? Now they're at the point where Nero's getting his face scrunched for mouthing off. Bothered FatherTM. He cackles and permits the head shaking, delighting in being called a foolish hooligan.
Then Vergil suggests he experience more Greek mythology. And actually?]
Sure, you can read me the book sometime. It sounds cool.
[Vergil opens his mouth to clarify that Greek mythology is by no means contained within a single book, but decides against it. Let that be something Nero discovers on his own while Vergil has this buy-in for now. He runs the fingers of his free hand through Nero's hair lightly.]
I believe if you approach it with an open mind, you'll quite like it.
[Some parts of it may be of less interest to him than others, of course, but there's plenty of monsters and action in most Greek myth to keep Nero plenty entertained if he's able to track what's happening. And what Vergil says is true. Greek myth serves as a foundation of Western literature, and he's more than clever enough to draw those comparisons. Vergil knows it. He just needs to give it a chance, and have it presented in a manner he can enjoy it rather than have it be some dry academic discussion.]
The Greeks wrote poetry about wrestling, you know. And not just about the mythic heroes against their monstrous foes. They held the sport in high regard, and as the greatest demonstration of human strength. [He huffs a small, quiet laugh.] Of course, their wrestling was far more violent than the wrestling you watch. Even the Romans felt the Greeks needed to "chill out," to borrow a phrase from you.
[Vergil's extremely formal usage of "chill out" makes him laugh. Especially because Vergil is also laughing.] Ah, so the Greeks had good taste, then?
[He assumes "more violent" than professional wrestling is probably referring to the fact that his wrestling is staged. So does that mean they were actually beating each other with chairs? And writing poems about it?
Yeah, actually, he could get behind this shit.
Nero leans his head back into those head strokes like a cat seeking the contact.]
So you're saying the fact it's violent and there's monsters makes it... tantalizing, for me?
Quite. [He smiles with an equally pleased hum at Nero's correct use of the word "tantalizing."] Although you do not share in Tantalus's fate. Whatever you desire shall never be impossibly beyond your reach, dear child.
[Perhaps it is a bit odd for so true and sentimental statement to come now, but Vergil is nothing less than sincere in that belief and finds it merit saying given the day's events. To him, Nero is limitless in all that he can do. There is nothing he cannot accomplish nor obtain once his mind is set to it. Whatever it takes, he'll push himself to see it through to the end. Nero simply is all Vergil thought to be the impossible with all his strength and love.]
[But still he borrows a small page from Dante and Nero's book, lessening the weight of his words a little with a slight tease, mussing up Nero's hair in the process.]
You're far too damned stubborn to let it be otherwise.
[There's a moment there, very brief (also upside-down) where Nero gets a flicker of real, genuine sentiment in his eyes from Vergil's words. It's an incredibly kind thing to say. It also rings truer than it ever would have before. What Nero desired more than anything else in the universe was a family. People who'd love him unconditionally for being himself, and not for any other purpose or selfish motivation. He never got that wish as a kid, but he'd built a family with his beloved Kyrie. And now not only does he have her, but he's here in this house with his uncle and his father. His father. Real and in the flesh, stroking his hair and telling him he'll always have what he wants. What else could he want, than this precise sort of exchange-- than to feel that warmth and love from his dad?
The deflecting joke makes him blink hard, then laugh. The tears are neatly chased away and he can find the words to respond to that.]
Damn straight.
[Then with another smile over his shoulder, he resumes reading his book and lets Vergil get back to his, as well. Everything is perfect and peaceful and content.
For almost ten minutes this time.]
Uh. "Scrupulous?"
[I'm sorry, Vergil. He pronounces it "scrupple-us."]
[There's a brief pause before Vergil offers his correction on Nero's pronunciation, the furrow in his brow returning slightly as he makes certain he knows what word Nero means.]
Scrupulous. [Correctly pronounced, but with a neutral tone that does not condescend for his mispronunciation. "Scrupple-us" was not a bad guess for how it is written. He doesn't immediately throw out the answer though. This one, Vergil thinks, Nero can probably come to the correct definition on his own.] Have you come across the word "scruple" before? It's a related word.
[Vergil is willing to wager he has at some point or another given his upbringing in a religious cult. In that instance, even if he still doesn't know the exact meaning, context should certainly fill it out enough to point him in the right direction. And barring that, his mother's literature has certainly used the word. Nero may have taken the time to look the word up while trying to read the books on his own and can make the bridge all on his own in understanding the word. Hence the confidence Nero can probably reason this one out one way or another without as much direct input from Vergil.]
[Vergil is right. Nero has heard that word before. It's just going to take him a moment to recall, because the context was some religious service or other that he was zoning out for.
After a think, complete with scrunched brows and pursed lips, Nero recalls it.]
"Guard thy scruples more diligently than the greatest treasure." [Said in a mockery of some dry-ass old fart speaking to the congregation.
He takes another moment to consider that context and then finally has to confess.]
[Vergil heaves an audible, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head slightly. It's a small wonder that didn't just inspire a headache, but perhaps that is a credit to an increased tolerance in contending with Dante's nonsense for so long. He lowers his hand and looks down at Nero.]
And when setting aside the height of comedy and cleverness that is your adolescent sense of humor?
[Okay, no matter how dumb or puerile it makes him look, that was absolutely worth it for Vergil's disdain alone. He's grinning, holding back a laugh, which also covers up that he just... isn't entirely sure what the word means.
Something that you have... that should be protected securely... but not your balls...]
That is an excellent guess from your example, and money could very well be part of it, [he says, sounding notably pleased with this answer. It could be easy to assume he's merely pleased by the sincerity alone and that's not an entirely false assumption. But Vergil is glad to see Nero using context to find the meaning. That's more important to him than the accuracy of his response.] Scruples are your moral compass. They are the things that tell you right from wrong. To the priest you were mocking, those come from his faith and he would likely deem those who turn away from it to be without scruples. But you well know that religion is hardly the only means of developing morals for oneself.
So, knowing that, if I described someone you had not yet met as being scrupulous, what would you assume about them? What do you assume they would be like were they to be faced with a difficult choice?
[Ugh. School flashbacks. He's being called on in class and the teacher knows he was drawing or looking out the window and that he isn't going to be able to answer this without sounding fucking stupid in front of everybody...
Well. No. It's a little swell of those old feelings, but it's not so bad when it's Vergil. He can hear the way he's tempering his voice so he doesn't sound condescending or like this is beneath him to explain.
Still doesn't make him like being asked questions like that, or keep him from squirming just a little bit.]
They... do what they think is right? Whatever that is?
[Vergil smiles. On anyone else, it would probably appear to be an understated, little smile of approval. But on Vergil, it might as well be a beaming, proud grin.]
Exactly right, [he says with a small nod.] Someone who is scrupulous is generally considered to be incorruptible. They follow their morals closely, and often without deviation. However, if a situation arises that challenges their morality, they may struggle more than another person with a more flexible sense of morality. That lack of flexibility also gives the word an additional meaning of meticulousness depending on its context.
But the classic example you will most often see in literature of a scrupulous character is usually one struggling between what they've been raised to believe right and wrong, and a desire or temptation of some kind. Some of the books your mother favored often involve strong, genuine feelings of love for a man that the heroine should not love due to the societal norms they were raised with. Although in those stories your mother loved, love triumphs over all, not every author writes such happy endings and reaches the same conclusion as that priest.
[For as quiet as Vergil is, he becomes immediately and incredibly verbose the moment he's allowed to discuss something like this. Of course, this sort of chattiness is not a particular issue most of the time, but with that shortness of breath, Vergil leans a little towards the coffee table for his glass of water to have a drink by the conclusion of his words.]
[Nero is now used to Vergil's longwindedness. He's learned to try and follow along as best he can and offer the occasional nod or "huh" or other indication of understanding. And though his dad does probably go a bit overboard with the definition, Nero can't deny he does get it, and the multiple examples do help it sink in.]
Yeah, okay... that makes sense.
[He refrains from cracking wise about Vergil needing a drink after that. Since you know, he's the one who keeps interrupting for word definitions.] Thanks. You're better than a dictionary. [He reaches back to give Vergil a fond pat on the leg, then picks up his book again to fit the meaning of "scrupulous" into the sentence.
Ah, okay... though he still thinks "balls" would work. Like, metaphorically maybe!]
Such high praise, [Vergil says with a slight wrinkle of his nose. But even with his light deflection, Vergil knows it's sincere from Nero after the months he spent reading Vergil's books in secret and relying on a dictionary to help him grasp at the meaning. Not to say a dictionary can't be of some use, but Nero doesn't have to then potentially start looking up words used as part of the definition. And a dictionary lacks the ability to place it into context that will make the meaning truly stick the way Vergil can. Vergil sets aside his glass of water once he's done with it, and settles back into reading alongside Nero.]
[The little disruptions slow Vergil's reading down a bit as he must pause in his reading to either provide the definitions or help Nero reason his way through it, but he hardly minds it any more than he does when Nero ends up wiggling his way into a different position. If anything, the disruptions are helpful in their own way as Vergil comes to realize that the shortness of breath is apparently not the only bit of fatigue he's liable to experience throughout the course of this illness. It's a strange and foreign experience, but his eyes begin to feel increasingly fatigued with reading words on a page. The little breaks to explain something to Nero provides him with the opportunity to take a break and prolong his ability to read for just a little bit longer.]
[What's doing him less favors, however, is Nero's nearby warmth and weight.]
[Vergil fights against it for as long as he can. When he doesn't have Nero as a distraction, he opts to look away from the page, refocus his eyes elsewhere for a moment before returning to reread the paragraph again. He slows his pace down considerably, trying to make the words stick in his mind and grasp at their meaning. But there's only so much fight he can put up. Vergil eventually sinks a little further into the couch during some of Nero's fidgeting into another position, more reclined than he was before. Rereading a paragraph becomes rereading a sentence, a word as drowsiness has him blinking in and out of consciousness.]
[There's a light thump as his grip on his book loosens to near total release, the novel falling onto his chest. But Vergil does not so much as stir let alone suddenly jerk awake over it dropping.]
[So, it turns out that under the right circumstances Vergil may, in fact, nap after all.]
[The book does have some vocabulary words in it, but not so many to make it unreadable. The beginning part is a tense scene where someone is following the hero through a dark subway at night. It's exciting and well-paced, barring the words Nero keeps tripping on, and he gets into it enough to skim over a few words he'd otherwise ask Vergil about.
And then there's this shit: "The police arrived at the station in a macabre parade."
Muh caber? Ma sabre? Mackabray?
He almost feels bad interrupting again after a long pause without, but...] Uh... what is...
[Then he hears the little thump. A telltale slow breath. Nero shifts very carefully to look up and see that Mr. No Naps has fallen asleep. Well, good! Stubborn bastard needs the rest. He looks almost cute with that book on his chest...
Nero waits a few more minutes to ensure his wiggling and movement doesn't stir Vergil, because you just know the idiot will never allow himself to fall back asleep if that happens. Once he's pretty certain he's steadily sleeping, Nero sits up, setting his book on the coffee table. He gently moves Vergil's book to join it, then grabs the throw off the back of the couch and unfolds it (Kyrie lives with them now, of course they have a throw on the couch.) Gently tucking it around Vergil, he leaves him to nap on the couch and goes to tidy up the living room, including putting Vergil's book bag back in his room and closing the blinds to make it a bit darker.
Sleep tight, old man. Nero will protect your nap like a mackabray guardian.]
Especially after being up in the mountains and developing a headcold. The steam has helped a lot and Kyrie has emerged from the adjoining en-suite wearing makeshift pjs and bundled up in a hoodie that is definitely too big and smells too much like Nero to be hers.
Honestly, she's appreciated having some time to herself to wrap her head around everything that's happened today because it has been a lot to come to terms with and try to keep her usual, positive outlook on things. It's been a relief to drop her guard and just let the hot water wash over her and process. She's exhausted, she's very probably going to be sleeping poorly tonight with a cold coming on as well as sleeping in a strange place for the first time. She hadn't realised just how drained she feels until she'd stepped under the shower head.
She's busy toweling her hair dry as she steps back into the bedroom and announces her presence with a smile and a cheerful:]
[On one hand, Nero is still reeling in the overwhelming surge of emotion that hit him like a truck earlier. Kyrie, here? Safe? After months and months of missing her like someone had cut his heart out of his chest? Found safely and rescued gallantly by Vergil? And neither of them had horribly alienated the other by the time Nero caught up with them? It's like a dream come true.
But there is still a lot... a lot that Kyrie needs to be caught up on. Things he was ready to tell her seven months ago now, but so much has changed. He's changed. And Vergil has too. So he wants to be very, very careful about how he catches Kyrie up to speed. If he manages to do it without her storming out of the house or throwing kitchenware at a devastated Vergil, then he'll have succeeded.
And if not? No. No, he simply refuses to consider it.
When Kyrie emerges from the shower he is actually lying facedown on the bed. He's dressed down to one of his workout tanktops and a pair of sweats, but he sits up on an elbow as soon as she's present.
He can't help but smile like an absolute smitten buffoon just looking at her. It's really her. Here.]
Mm-hmm, warm and toasty. That's a really nice shower you have.
[Case in point, the pink flush on her skin and the rosy cheeks that may or may not also have something to do with appreciating Nero in his tanktop. Her eyes flit down to his right arm, whole and human again, and once again she marvels at the utterly incredible things her beloved seems to be able to accomplish.
She quickly twists the towel into a turban and smiles back at him when she catches him grinning at her. She knows that face. She's missed that face. It's only been a few weeks for her, she can't even imagine being parted from him for seven months.
So, taking his smile for an invitation (and feeling emboldened by the knowledge that the door is shut and the house is empty), she helps herself to the bed and scrambles across until she's able to snuggle up against him and scoop him into a hug.]
[He opens his arms to welcome her, rolling up with her and stopping only when he's afraid he might smoosh her. This leaves him on his opposite side, cradling her close but not so close he can't look at her.
He lifts two fingers to tuck her hair out of her face.]
So it's all a... really long story. I won't bore you if you're tired tonight, but...
[Dang it, towels just can't contain her hair, but Kyrie doesn't mind in the slightest. She twists to get rid of it, tossing it towards the bathroom door so she can remember to put it back later, and nestles in closer as she looks up at him.]
You know you could never bore me, but maybe you can keep the gruesome parts to a minimum so I don't have to imagine what went on.
[It's bad enough knowing that he risks his life on a regular basis without having to hear about the gore and bloodshed, honestly. She reaches across to skim her fingertips up and down his right arm, still not used to the novelty of touching smooth, human skin where there had been hard metal so recently, and before that, demonic scales and glowing light for so long.]
But absolutely don't hold back on the important parts, I want to know everything.
[Nero surrenders his arm for inspection. Some part of him hopes it passes, even when he realizes what a ridiculous thing that is to worry about a few seconds later.]
Man... where do I even start?
[How far back does he go? There's a lot of this he doesn't even really know for certain, but has surmised or put together from the pieces of the puzzle he does have.
Well. At the very beginning, maybe, would be a good spot.]
Okay. So... Dante is Sparda's son. And Vergil is Dante's twin brother. And one time Vergil went to Fortuna and he... he met my mother. Her name was Beatrice.
[He sighs, honestly wishing he knew more than he does about this part. But Kyrie knows full and well how clueless he'd been about his origins as a kid.]
He didn't know about me. And he doesn't know what happened to her. But that's where I came from, I guess.
[Kyrie is nothing if not patient. It's a virtue she's cultivated over the years, which has certainly made some aspects of her relationship with her partner run that much more smoothly (particularly during the early days). She watches him softly, all the while letting her fingers skim up and down his arm until she comes to rest on his hand, which she turns her attention to threading her fingers through his. She's missed holding his hand, and she vows not to take it for granted again.
Some of what Nero is saying she's managed to piece together herself. Dante and Vergil being twins is probably the least surprising thing. Vergil himself had told her that he hadn't known about Nero's existence, so she nods at that, her face soft and accepting. The name of Nero's mother is new information, and she again files away the strange coincidence of her name to her own private amusement. There is nothing funny about any of this, and she doesn't want Nero to feel she might think that.
She gives his hand a gentle squeeze.]
Perhaps... we could look for your mother when we find our way home. Even if she's no longer in the city, we might be able to find out something about her, if you wanted to.
[She lifts his hand to her lips and kisses his knuckles.]
[He swallows and tightens his fingers around hers. The suggestion hits him like a punch in the chest.]
I do want to. I don't know what we'd find after all this time, but... Dad gave me some pictures of her. Somebody had to know what happened to her and... Anything would be nice to know.
[He doesn't want to get hung up on that, though. If he's honest with himself, the subject of his mother still feels very raw and painful. Nero isn't sure how he can possibly deal with that, though, or how he's supposed to process any of it when she's such a big question mark.]
Anyway. So... that's why I have powers. And why Sanctus captured us. And why Dante gave me the Yamato. Because he's my uncle, and Vergil's my dad, and... I'm Sparda's grandson.
That's pretty amazing that he still has pictures after all this time. We could ask around, see if anyone recognizes her. I know the archives were pretty badly damaged after the demon attacks, but maybe there's something left on the city census; you might even have more family out there.
[She looks up at him and reels it in, seeing the worry lines etch his brow. Very gently, she reaches up and strokes his cheek, brushes her thumb over his lips. The known quantity in his heritage is impressive enough, if not a little daunting. She lets a playful smile creep onto her face at that.]
You know... if this had got out when the Order was still at its height, you would have been idolized and I'd probably have been excommunicated.
[He never even considered the possibility of other family. It's hard to know what to think about that in the moment. Sort of a mix of hopeful longing and resentment. If his mother's family was out there somewhere, why did he end up left on the orphanage steps all alone?
But there's really no sense in getting worked up over a "what if," so he takes a breath and lets Kyrie's fingers soothe away the grump and furrow on his face.]
Yeah, if by "idolized" you mean thrown in a cage... [And he doesn't even WANT to think about what they'd have done to Kyrie in that case. He shakes it off and bites his lower lip.]
Does it weird you out? Sparda wasn't a god, but... you know. It's kind of weird, right?
[Kyrie knows that the Order were a cult, that they did terrible things and harmed hundreds of innocent people to pursue their goals. She knows all this, she still has nightmares about the things they did to her and Nero, but deep down, she still struggles to let go of some of the mythology. Maybe, once, the Order had been better, maybe it had rotted over the centuries into what it degraded to. She still believes in Sparda, that he was a great and powerful entity who humanity owes a great debt to. Even now, looking at Nero, it's surreal to know that he's a part of that myth, that legacy. But if anyone was going to be...
She shakes her head and murmurs her dissent.]
I mean, it was a shock when your father told me who he was and when I realized what it meant. But no, it doesn't weird me out. It might have done... but now I know that he was more than some 'god', he was more than that.
[She nestles in against his side and rests her free hand on his stomach.]
[For the first time in the conversation, Nero looks at least a little more at ease. He lets out a breath and cracks a vague smile, leaning forward to bump her forehead with his.]
Good. 'Cuz my gramps might be a legendary demon knight, but I'm still just Nero. I promise.
[Like yeah... so many demons over the years used to sneer at him and call him "Sparda's kin" and "blood of Sparda" and all that shit. He always knew it was a connection somehow. But it feels a lot more real knowing exactly how close to Sparda he is. Even with what he knows about Sparda as a person and not a figure of legend, there's a kind of disconnect in his head at the very idea.
Like... imagine going to Grandpa's house for the holidays, and it's Sparda. Fucking wild.
Anyway. Now that that's covered... time to wade into some murkier territory.]
So... what do you think of Vergil? You guys seemed to be getting along okay.
[Kyrie nudges back against his forehead, huffing a light puff of laughter through her nose.]
You've never been 'just Nero' to me, you know that. You're just my legendary, slightly Dark Knight Nero now.
[She pats his stomach cheerfully, indicating that she's teasing him to put him at ease.
Mostly.
It's very strange to think that he is a direct descendant of someone she worshipped as a god and it might take some adjusting to, but having got to know Dante over the years and recognized the all too present humanity in him, he's not quite so intimidating.
Vergil, on the other hand...]
I like him. He's very different from his brother, if they didn't look so alike I'd find it hard to believe they're related.
[She pushes herself up to look at him, smiling fondly.]
But you know, it's not so hard to see the resemblance between you two if you look carefully enough.
[Well. You've seen his screenname, obviously he does. He chuckles and eases into a more comfortable position on the bed, letting Kyrie flop and snuggle however she pleases once he's settled on his back.
Nero can't help but smile a little wider when she points out how much he and Vergil look alike.]
Yeah. I had a hard time believing it myself... hard to think he's my dad too, except it's like looking in a mirror sometimes.
[He's going to have to get into this somehow. Slowly. Carefully. So he takes a breath and wets his lips.]
He, uh. He's had a really rough life. I don't know all the details but he was... gone for a long time. I think in the Underworld. He's kind of prickly and sometimes he's like a feral cat. Hissy and nervous and poorly socialized?
[A soft, good-natured laugh.]
He's been trying really hard though. Trying to be a better person and a father. He's changed a lot. I wouldn't be calling him "Dad" if he hadn't earned it from me.
Nero! You can't say things like that about your father!
[Kyrie laughs but she's also slightly scandalised. She can't imagine getting the nerve to call Vergil something like a hissy, poorly socialized cat. He comes across as so stern and severe, she can't imagine what it would be like to actually anger him.
But... Nero trashtalks people he likes. Not her, never her, but Nico? Dante? Constantly. It makes her laugh.]
I'm looking forward to getting to know him better, hopefully somewhere a bit warmer. He was so kind to me when he found me, I need to find a way to repay him for everything. Do you think I should cook him a special dinner to thank him?
[She adjusts herself so she can sprawl over him, snuggling into his body heat and the warmth of his hoodie.]
I'm so glad you've found him, I can see how much he means to you. I just wish I'd been here with you while it happened.
[Maybe he'd tone it down a little bit but he absolutely would. He and Vergil are finally at the place where they can rib each other and it doesn't come off as really pointed and mean. It's a place they were gonna need to reach, in Nero's regard.]
I think he'd like that. He's kind of blase about food but I know a few things he likes by now... he really likes tea and books, actually. I bet he'll love talking to you about his books.
[It's wonderful to hear that he was so kind to her. That she wants to repay him and get to know him better. He hopes, from the bottom of his heart, that she still feels that way in a moment. He absolutely has to tell her.]
There's, um... there's something I need to tell you about him though. It's about what happened last y... last month. In Red Grave. [And in the garage. Though he can already feel himself starting to falter as he gets closer to it.]
It might be kind of hard to hear but I need to tell you. Can you hear me out?
[Kyrie lies comfortably with her head pillowed on Nero's chest, just below his shoulder, enjoying the familiar dull pulse of his heartbeat beneath her ear as she listens to him talk. It's comforting and soothing and might be enough to lull her to sleep but she feels him tense beneath her and everything changes. She shifts a little to sit up, wriggling so she's upright and facing him with a frown on her face.]
I knew something was bothering you when you called, has it been eating away at you for this long?
[She can't imagine that he's had months to sit on this; is it something so terrible that he can't even share it with his family? She reaches for both of his hands to hold in hers as she looks at him.]
Of course I can hear you out, you can tell me anything.
[He's very quick to clasp her hands, squeezing them back.]
Oh, no, no. It hasn't been eating at me-- I mean, I've basically come to terms with it, I'm just... [Worried that she won't.
But enough of the mystery. He sighs and shakes his head, then wets his lips before he goes to explain.]
So Vergil. Before we met, before we even knew each other existed, he was dying. He was weak and half out of his mind trying to save himself. He needed his sword. So when he sensed it, he came to Fortuna and...
[Nero laces his fingers with hers, particularly those of his right hand. Here's the cruel truth that hit him like a truck that day, left him reeling on the phone to Kyrie.]
He was the one who attacked me that day. He tore off my arm to get Yamato back.
[He was the one who attacked me that day. He tore off my arm to get Yamato back.
The whole world grinds to a halt, all sound turns to static in her ears and Kyrie forgets how to breathe for a split second. She's paralysed, transported back to that sickening moment of utter horror when she'd gone to the garage. Her world had tilted on its axis to find Nero bleeding out on the floor, soaked in his own blood, dying for all intents and purposes, and she had been powerless to do anything more than try desperately to staunch the bleeding and beg Nico to call an ambulance as she'd cradled him in her arms and pleaded with him as he lost consciousness.
Please be okay
Don't go
Don't leave me
I can't do this without you
I love you please stay with me
You're everything, I can't lose you
You can't die you can't die
Even now her nightmares are coloured red with the blood she can't stop, and she feels the dead weight of him in her arms as she tore her skirt and tried to fashion a tourniquet to stop the endless river of blood that poured from the ruined stump of his right arm.
She'd thought a monster, a demon, had broken the sanctity of their home and harmed him. But this? This is so much worse.
He has to be mistaken, this can't be true.
Her voice is tiny when she finally answers, her face ashen in disbelief.]
[He promised himself he wouldn't panic during this talk. That he'd let Kyrie feel however she felt, and he wouldn't go overboard trying to explain things or defending Vergil where it wasn't warranted.
But it hurts so fucking bad to see her distressed. It takes everything in him not to break that promise to himself and start rushing to say something, anything that would make it better.
He closes his hands--both of them-- over hers, bringing them in to place against his chest.]
He was the demon in Red Grave. Something... happened to him, and once he had Yamato it only got worse. He split in two. There was V, his human side, everything that was good in him. And then everything that was left was that... monster.
[It's hard to explain that part when he still doesn't understand much of it himself. He's never quite wanted to quiz Vergil either, since he's so obviously touchy and wary about the subject of his past. But nor does he want to leave out any of his understanding for Kyrie. It's twisted and frightening and fucked up, but he absolutely will not keep it from her. Not if he wants any hope at all of his family all being mended into one.
So he explains the Red Grave situation. How dire things were when they arrived, how V was so desperate to put a stop to Urizen and the mistake he spawned that cost so many lives. How V was dying, and Nero more or less carried him to the bottom of the Qliphoth, where Dante had defeated Urizen. How V and Urizen rejoined into one Vergil, and the bombshell when Dante told him that Vergil was, in fact, his father. The man who'd assaulted him and crippled him was his own, unknowing father.]
When I called you... I didn't know what to do. He'd done so much wrong, and I spent so long wanting revenge for my arm, but... I couldn't let it go just like that. I couldn't just leave him and Dante to kill each other. I didn't want bloodshed to do the talking in this family anymore. I just... wanted to look him in the eye as his son, and see what he would do about it.
[By now, there's a telltale wet shine in Nero's eyes.]
Kyrie. I know how... screwed up this all is. I still don't understand a lot of it. But if I thought he might hurt you, or me, I'd be a thousand miles away with you and never even look at him again. He knows he was wrong. He's been working so hard to change, and to be a father for me. You don't ever have to like him, or trust him, but...
[At last, he closes his eyes and leans forward, bonking his forehead into her shoulder.]
I forgave him. Maybe I'm stupid and too trusting, but... I wanted to give him a chance.
[Kyrie doesn't quite know how to respond. It's a lot to contend with, on top of everything else she's learned about Nero's family today. She barely notices when Nero places her hands on his chest, can't look away from his face as he pours his heart out with the story.
It would be one thing if the attack had been perpetrated by the side of Vergil devoid of any and all humanity, but that's not the case. That small spark of optimism, that it can't be that bad, snuffs out. Then the human side of him had dragged Nero back into the unpleasantness, knowing what had been done to him? Knowing how close they'd come to losing Nero? And what about the demon side, how many lives had been lost to feed his unrelenting
She battles to keep her breathing under control, feeling her heart begin to race in a panic.
And then Nero's eyes well up, and her heart begins to break for him. Her own vision begins to blur as she watches him pour his heart out and she can understand the conflict he feels all too well.
She remembers five years ago, remembers seeing Nero stand over her brother's prone form with his arm glowing and having to fight the battling horror and disbelief and fear, not knowing where to begin reconciling the truths she had always believed. Even with Credo fallen at his feet, her heart had told her to have faith in Nero, just as it tells her to have faith in him and his instincts. He's always kept her safe. Always.
Stupid and too trusting? She can't call him that. Because from the moment she had met Nero's father, she had found herself drawn to him, felt safe (if not a little unsettled) being near him, and to know now that he was the monster who had nearly ripped her life apart?
She's shaking as he leans into her and she holds onto him, clings, but can't bring herself to say anything. What can she say?]
[He mirrors her unconsciously. Heart pounding. Arms trembling, even as he holds her tight to his chest. A few tears slip free and slide down his cheeks, and he presses them dry against the borrowed hoodie she's wearing. All he can do for the moment is slowly stroke her back in an effort at comfort. He doesn't know how else or what else to do.
It's a minute or two before he regains the ability to speak, and can even find the words to do it with.]
It's been seven months for me. He promised me he'd rather die than ever hurt me again. And you know I don't take anybody at their word, but... he keeps on proving he meant it. Over and over again, no matter how hard it is for him.
[He turns his head from her shoulder, pressing a very lazy kiss against her collar as he does. Well... to the hoodie, anyway, kind of intended to be her collar. Also ends up with one of the drawstrings kind of draped over his chin. But he puts up with it for the moment.]
I don't expect you to forgive him, or... like him, or if you don't want anything to do with him, I get it. I don't want to sound like I'm making excuses for him. But he's changed a lot and grown since I've known him. He loves me. And I... [He wets his lips suddenly, the rest of that sentence getting stuck on his tongue somewhere.]
No matter what, I promise that you're safe. I'll keep you safe, like always. And if it ever looks like I might not be safe, I'll protect myself. So please, just... let me keep giving him a chance.
[Nero lets out a soft, rueful laugh.]
He's a dumb, nerdy, awkward, uptight bastard who's still learning problem-solving skills. But he's my dad.
[Kyrie remembers the day she had met Nero. She remembers the sullen little boy sat apart from the other children in the orphanage, glowering at everyone. He had a bruise on his cheek and a swollen bottom lip. Mother and Father had been talking to Sister Sesta about what they could do to help support the orphanage's work, Credo had been introduced to one of his new instructors and was hanging off his every word and Kyrie had been left to her own devices to meet the orphans. She had felt uncomfortable, eyed with jealousy by a group of whispering girls slightly older than her, who made remarks about her best dress (Mother had said it was important to look one's best for these things), and she hadn't felt like stopping by to coo over the toddlers in the nursery. She had hurried over to the boy in the corner, feeling sorry for the sorry state of his face, and immediately offered him one of the chocolate coated caramels she had smuggled into the building. His eyes had lit up and he had smiled the brightest, most genuine and endearing smile she had ever seen, and she had immediately asked if he would like to be her friend.
She had never been ignorant to what people had said about him, never entertained the gossip that he was some ill-gotten bastard left on the orphanage's doorstep. She knows he was bullied, knows what it takes to earn his trust, and for him to trust deeply is something she knows takes him a long time. Even now she can count on one hand the number of people he would openly admit to trusting.
And she's so torn, because she would shout from the rooftops how deeply she trusts Nero and that will never change but this? This is so different from anything else because it's his family. Of course his judgement comes with the complicated influence of emotions added to the mix.
Her own aren't making things any easier.
His attempt at a kiss grounds her, makes her shift to brush her fingers through his hair in an effort to comfort him. He's so tense in her arms, and the way he's pleading with her to let him keep giving his father a chance to prove himself-
He loves me
Kyrie's breath catches at that, shaking as she cries against him because she can't possibly contend with that. It's family, it's his blood, it's what he's always dreamed of since he was that bruised, lonely little boy she shared her candy with with. How can he possibly think she'd want to take that away from him?
Because that so-called family nearly took him away from her. Permanently. What right does he have to muscle in and hurt him again? Nero's always kept her safe, as he says, and she has always tried to do the same in her own way. Shouldn't she stop this now, before Vergil has the chance to hurt him again?
...it's an awful, bitter thing to think and she's disgusted with herself.
It's even worse because from the outset, she herself has wanted to like and trust his father, and be liked by him in return.
Now? What can she even do or say?
She still has no words.
She kisses the crown of his head instead, and holds him tight.]
[The continued silence further uneases him. They're both still shaking. But they're both still holding tight, too, and Nero tells himself he did just lay an utter bombshell on her. It's okay if it takes a moment for everything to sink in. Hell, he wouldn't blame her if it took a few days for everything to sink in.
Like, it's gonna drive him fucking insane with anxiety and worry! But he wouldn't blame her a bit!
She kisses the top of his head and he closes his eyes, forcing out a few more stray tears. His hand continues rubbing lazy circles on her back, and he lets the silence go on for a few more minutes.
At last he swallows.]
Is there anything I can say to make it easier? Anything I can do?
[Her voice is small and shaky and she forces some composure back into herself. She takes a deep breath, drawing back from the hug. Her face is still pale, eyes wet and red rimmed, and she searches his face, now haunted by the similarities she had seen between him and his father and wondering how she can separate the two.
She should hate Vergil. He's a monster. She's everything she'd been raised to believe as evil and base in this world.
But he's the Son of Sparda, Nero's father and he loves him and she's sworn to herself never to hate any part of him, that she loves and accepts every inch of him, every drop of blood in his veins, demon, human, whatever.
She reaches for Nero, her rock, and takes his face between her hands.]
I wanted whatever hurt you dead. I wanted to rip it to pieces just so it could hurt worse than you, hurt the way I hurt when I saw you lying there... and he was your father?
[She shudders, tears rolling down her cheeks.]
How could you forgive someone like that after what he did to you?
[As long as she's crying, he won't be far behind. He surrenders his face to her, tearstained and red, shaking his head very briefly to her question.]
I don't know. I didn't think I could. I wanted payback. Not just for my arm but for everything he did to you and Nico. To Dante. To the city. I wanted nothing more than to kill him. But...
[He drifts off for a moment, scrambling to gather a hundred thoughts and feelings into sensible words. His right hand slips up to brush Kyrie's tears away with his thumb.]
When I found out he was my father, I just... like I said. I had to see for myself. I didn't want him to die without ever looking him in the eye and speaking to him. Maybe he was a coldhearted bastard and a ruthless monster, and maybe he did deserve to die but...
[One more swallow, and he comes to the conclusion he came to all those months ago after hanging up with Kyrie.] I didn't want it to be like that. I didn't want my father to be like that. For Dante to kill his brother, and for my family I didn't even know to fall apart like that.
[He takes a slow breath and leans forward, touching his forehead to hers.]
All I did was give him a chance. If he'd spit in my face or thrown it back at me, or acted like a [pause where he trips over almost saying "fuckhead"] creep or whatever else, then screw him, I'd know once and for all. But he didn't. He's tried so hard and apologized, and... I forgave him for hurting me.
[Nero smiles a little crookedly, then spares his hand to wipe his own tears.]
I can't forgive him for you. Or for anybody else or anything else he's done. But for what it's worth, he's said he wants to apologize to you.
[How anyone, anyone could ever have looked at this brilliant, beautiful man and ever thought he was nothing more than an uncouth, foul-mouthed punk is completely beyond Kyrie. His huge capacity to love, to forgive, to want what's best for everyone, humbles her every time she's privileged enough to bear witness to it.
She leans into the brush of his thumb, shares breath as he presses his forehead to hers, listens patiently as he articulates his thoughts. He's come so, so far and she loves him so deeply as he shows his capacity for forgiveness.
Kyrie thinks he's a better man than any other she's met. She might be biased, but it doesn't make it any less true.
She looks up to meet his crooked smile, her own smile watery in return as she watches him wipe away his tears, and she slowly processes what he's saying.
Vergil wants to apologize to her.
With all her heart, she wishes she could say she will accept that apology for Nero's sake and let that be the end of it. Be the bigger person, follow Nero's example and let their lives go on, embracing him as part of her family, learning to forgive and forget.
She just doesn't know if she can.
But she can't bring herself to say that to Nero. Not when she can see for herself how much this man- and it's a struggle to use that term- means to him. How much Nero loves him, even if he hasn't said it aloud to her. She knows what he cut himself off from saying.
Maybe she's not as good a person as everyone says she is.
Her thumbs trace the path of his hands, brushing the remnants of tears away that he might have missed. She's sure the uncertainty of it is written all over her face but she can't bring herself to look away from him, not when he's being so open and vulnerable with her.]
I don't know if I- I will hear what he has to say.
[I just can't promise I'll forgive him.
She inches closer, needing to be near to him. Those days leading up to his second departure for Red Grave had been tense and fraught, with her still simmering with anger and terror at the thought he was about to disappear and put his life in danger again and Nero thrumming with fury and grim determination to finish what he had started. They had barely spoken, it wasn't until the night before he left that Kyrie had left the self-imposed exile of the sofa-bed to return to their room and hold him, determined not to let him leave thinking she didn't care.
It's caring too much that has her tied up in knots right now.]
I still see you on that floor and I can't- I wake up and I can't breathe thinking I've lost you before I remember you're okay.
[He draws her into the embrace, putting his head over her shoulder and holding her as close as he can. His fingers move up and into her hair, cradling the back of her head.
For as horrifying and awful as it was for him to be attacked, for all the pain and the blood and the loss of his limb and his power both, Nero has always believed he had it easier. He passed out and remained out cold for much of the ordeal. He wasn't the one who had to find him bleeding and dying in the garage, who had to hold him until the ambulance arrived, who had to sit by his bedside in the hospital room. Kyrie had been so frightened and suffered so much in the aftermath of the attack, he was almost angrier at his assailant for her sake than his own.
He would never ask Kyrie to put her feelings about it aside, or to ignore them in favor of the family unity he does, admittedly, long for. He won't even ask her to give Vergil the same chance he did. If she'd told him she never wanted to look at Vergil again, he would have done his best to facilitate it-- no matter how much it would break his heart to do so. Kyrie deciding to hear him out is her own decision to make, and he would never ask her to even do that much.]
If you're okay with it, you can hear it from him. I'll respect anything you decide. And if you want me to be there, or to talk to him, or to do anything-- I'll do anything you want me to.
[He turns his head to kiss her temple, then to mumble very softly in her ear.]
I love you. More than anything else in the world. I'll do whatever it takes to make you comfortable and keep you safe.
[Kyrie's eyes close as she leans into him, letting a shaky breath tremble free. She shivers as he mumbles in her ear and turns to face him, hesitating for just a moment to speak against his lips, he's that close.]
Just be here with me with me now. As long as I know you're safe, that's all I need.
[She knows she needs to make a decision, knows that Nero needs to be put at ease, but she can't think straight. She's so tired she realizes; tired of putting on a brave face, tired of holding herself together, tired of missing him. She leans in, brushing her nose against his as she closes her eyes and rests her forehead against his.]
I don't trust myself to decide anything tonight... I just want to be with you. You don't know how much I've missed you.
[He smiles when she speaks against his lips, adjusts to let her move comfortably. The temptation to snatch a kiss while they're here is a little too great, and he does before resting his forehead against hers.]
Yeah, please, take all the time you need. Sorry to dump all this on you all at once, but... [Better now than having her find out later.
He grins when she says she missed him.]
Almost as much as I've missed you? [Vergil could tell her some truly embarrassing stories. Yeeesh.]
[The kiss is just what she needs and yet not enough, sweet and reassuring and enough to set her heart racing. She reaches to cup his cheek, smiling sweetly.]
Don't apologize, it needed to be said. Thank you for telling me everything.
[Forewarned is forearmed. It's been a lot to contend with, that much is for sure, but secrets never sit well, and they've always made it a point to be honest with each other. That won't change, not as long as they're together. And while they're being honest...]
Oh you can't have missed me more than I've missed you, but I suppose it has been longer for you than for me.
[She thanks him for telling him. And right then, Nero gets the first little breath of hope that everything will be okay. That he made the right choice in telling Kyrie everything to begin with, not waiting for her to find out later some other way. That would have been deceitful, manipulative... he would never be able to forgive himself if things went down like that and she later found out. This way, there are no nasty surprises later on. She can approach Vergil with all the knowledge Nero has, and they can all move forward together.]
Oh, yes I can. I missed you so much...
[Nero snatches another kiss from her. Then his face turns 2.5 shades pinker.]
I feel like I'm dreaming. Like I have been since I saw you at the station. My beautiful Kyrie is here.
[Kyrie colors up, as she always does when he's so ardent and sweet with his compliments and loops her arms around his neck over his shoulders, shifting her body weight until she's sitting on his lap. She feels so self-conscious when he calls her beautiful, even when she's wearing his borrowed clothes and her hair's a half-dry tangle.]
It's not a dream, I promise. I'm here.
[She takes the initiative and saves him a steal, freely offering him a sweet, lingering kiss.]
[Au contraire, Kyrie. He has a hard time remembering the last time you looked hotter than right now, dressed in his hoodie. (Nero says that in his head literally every time he sees her.)
With her perched in his lap, he sits up to lean back against the headboard. The easier to kiss her between gushing compliments.]
Right here with me. [Smooch.] Right where you belong. [Smooch.
Then he goes in for a longer kiss to match hers. It starts off sweet but gets... a little steamy when he can't resist some tongue.]
[She manages to sigh out her response before Nero goes in for a deeper kiss and she moans into his mouth as she tastes his tongue with hers. She is all too aware of how long it's been as her temperature goes up like touchpaper and she's aware of everywhere he's touching her and everywhere he's not.
And it's not enough.
One kiss melts into another, and another, and she laughs against his lips.]
[Nero looks genuinely dazed when she breaks away to ask a question he should really, really be thinking of. It is, alas, bouncing around in his head unconnected to anything, made irrelevant by thoughts of Kyrie, kissing Kyrie, and touching Kyrie, in that order.]
[She really, really hates that she has to ask this and break the mood, particularly when he looks so utterly adorable when he's befuddled like this, but Kyrie is mindful that Nero hasn't been living alone, and is even more mindful of who he's living with.]
[Nero grits his teeth, his gaze fading into the middle distance and briefly looking like it might burn a hole in the wall. You know, in all of his longing and wishing for family, he did not consider this aspect of it. And part of him honestly doesn't care (the horny part) but the rest of him knows if he and Vergil or Dante make eye contact tomorrow morning he's going to fucking die in a blazing inferno of humiliation.
So after a moment he turns, carefully depositing Kyrie on the bed.]
One sec please.
[He stands up and heads for the bedroom door, stepping out into the rest of the house for about 37 seconds.
Then he comes back, closing the door behind him, looking incredibly relieved.]
[Kyrie kneels up on the bed, mindfully trying to push down her eagerness as she waits for him to return. It would be too cruel for them to be reunited only for them to be kept apart by circumstance at the last moment.
So when Nero returns with relief painted all over his face, it spreads to Kyrie almost immediately as she jumps from the bed and rushes straight to him.]
Oh thank your grandfather.
[She is 100% teasing him and laughs accordingly as she jumps into his arms.]
[Nero starts taking his shirt off and is most of the way done with it before she leaps into his arms. The shirt remains dangling from one bicep as he catches her and tilts her into a princess carry, though he's making quite the face. Good-naturedly, at least.]
Euugh. He had nothing to do with it.
[He kisses her, then carries her back over to the bed to plop her down by the pillows, laughing under his breath.]
And you are not allowed to praise him anymore when we're-
[Kyrie can't stop laughing at his face, just as she had hoped. She kisses him back, refusing to let go of him as he drops her back onto the bed and tries to drag him down on top of her.]
Oh no, you're the only one I'm planning on praising tonight.
[Begone shirt, you have no place here. She tosses it away, over towards her discarded towel, and lets her palms rove over his torso as she shifts beneath him to get more comfortable.]
[Delivered confidently. Though if Kyrie praises Nero even slightly he will immediately crumble to pieces. If it's religiously, he will literally keel over and die.
Nero settles her out with her head on the pillows, kneeling over her. His bared chest is pretty much how she remembers it, the wounds from the Qliphoth incident long since healed. All his latest injuries came at Vergil's doing, while they were sparring... but thankfully, Nero's freshly healed from those, too. Thanks, Devil Trigger!
The one big difference, of course, is his right arm. Looking freakishly normal and ordinary, human skin, a hand just like the other. This will be the first time she's gotten a real decent look at his arm sans clothing, and sans the more familiar glowing mark of his demon arm.
He perches over her, taking a moment to admire her in that hoodie.]
You look so hot in my hoodie. [Put a little engine grease on there and he might actually start sweating.] I almost hate to take you out of it...
[Oddly enough, although she's used to seeing Nero in a state of considerable undress, this is only the second time she's seen him topless with a human arm. The first time was a long time ago but it was certainly memorable; she could probably pinpoint it to the point that she first started to see Nero as more than her dearest friend and the little boy she'd grown up with. It's not an unattractive sight in the slightest, but she's never found Nero's arm in its demonic state to be unattractive either. Strange, but beautiful in its own way.
Kyrie's hands travel deftly across the planes of his stomach, up to his chest and over his shoulders, touching as much as she can as if trying to memorise every inch of him. At the compliment about her in his hoodie, she smiles up at him with a slightly wicked gleam in her eye that very rarely emerges, and only ever in private moments like this. She bucks up to kiss him, a stolen peck of a kiss.]
You could always let me keep it on, but then you'd never get to see what's underneath.
[Teeeempting. She's really so sexy, swimming in his clothes the way she is. But he's not about to make that exchange when it's been months since the last time he even saw her, much less got to touch her.]
Another time, maybe. [He returns a grin, though nowhere near as wicked as hers.] You're like a present for me to unwrap.
[(Please rest assured that was as painful to write as it was to read.)
Sliding a hand behind her, he guides her to sit up and tugs at the sleeves of the hoodie to pull it up over her head.]
Ohoho. Stole my shirt too, did you? [She's even hotter in one of his big T shirts. He cannot resist kissing her, which does hamper his attempts to take that off her, too. As does his insistence on mumbling against her lips.] God, you're so cute...
[Lines like that really shouldn't make her laugh so much but she can't help it when he calls her a present.]
You are just the silliest-
[She's cut off with Nero pulling the hoodie up over her head; it's big enough that it doesn't even catch on her ears. The shirt is vast on her, the collar is so large that it's slipping off over her shoulder. She has no complaints about the kiss and mumbles against his lips:]
I'm just borrowing it, but if you want me to give it back...
[Oops there goes his shirt over her head, oh my. Completely bare except for her panties, she holds the t-shirt out to him with a smile with a pink flush spreading over her cheeks.]
[No matter how many times they do this, Nero always turns brilliantly pink whenever he sees Kyrie's body. This time is no exception. Though it is heartening that he can at least continue through his bashfulness now, not missing a beat as he takes the shirt from her and smirks.]
You can borrow it whenever you like.
[He leans down, kissing her boldly, one hand trailing fingers down her collarbone, down her chest, then cupping her breast. A deeply satisfied sigh escapes his throat, and he pulls away just enough to speak.]
Oh, baby, I missed these, too... [He's grinning when he kisses her again, letting both hands make themselves at home touching her breasts, her waist, her hips, and tracing a little trail around her navel. But now he's more pink than ever, and physically warm to the touch. Some things never change.]
[She smiles warmly, still blushing as she takes in the way he smiles at her and responds to her body.]
I'd return the favour but I don't think my clothes will fit you.
[Each time he goes to kiss her, Kyrie finds herself drawn to him like a magnet as she leans in and reciprocates. The contact is almost electric. She shivers delightedly as he touches her and arches in closer, as though she's attention starved and needy.
Even after all these years, she still yearns for his touch.
She murmurs softly at the back of her throat as he explores her body, refamiliarizing himself with her curves. She leans into him, her body feeling warm and flushed from the proximity of him and her growing excitement, and brushes her lips over his jaw up to his ear and giggles a little as he pronounces his appreciation for her breasts.]
I hope you're going to take care of them for me.
[She places her hand on his thigh and rubs along the rigid muscle, creeping higher. She whispers questioningly, promisingly into his ear:]
I'll try sometime. If it's clothes you don't like so much...
[Cracking stupid jokes as he plays with her breasts, and draws a trail down her throat and collarbone with his lips. The little needy movements she makes, the gasps and the quiet sighs, every single one of them reminds him of how much he's missed her. How did he ever survive this long without her?
He gives an enthusiastic "mmhmm" when she asks if he'll take care of her. And as for the reverse prospect... that's definitely a shiver that goes down his spine when she whispers in his ear.]
I might need to go and find some more, my options are limited...
[She tilts her head back, letting him have easier access to her throat as her eyes flutter closed. As lovely as it is to have the sensation of his lips against her skin and the strange new feeling of having two distinctly human hands on her body, there's a certain neglected part of her that craves more. She shifts slightly until she's able to straddle his lap, and settles herself with her legs astride his hips, moaning low as she finally brushes against him. They may still be clothed (barely) at the point of contact, but it doesn't make it any less electric when she rubs against his erection at last.]
I want you to tell me what you need.
[She knows what she needs but she's also very aware that he's the one who's been pining for her for seven months when it's only been two for her. As far as she's concerned, his needs outweigh hers... at least for now.]
[Muttered against her skin as though it occurred to him mid-thought. Fortunately, it doesn't seem to distract him very much. He pulls away only when Kyrie rolls atop him, replacing his hands on the curve of her waist. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as she grinds down, and with a roll of his hips he presses his hardening bulge up between her thighs.
He very nearly audibly says "fuck" as he groans. Alas, he only mouths it.]
I need... [He settles into a slow rhythm, grinding up against her. He also lets out a quiet laugh, now brilliantly pink from scalp to stomach.] To learn to talk dirty without goddamn dying...
[He spares a hand from her waist only so he can briefly, bashfully press his fist over his eyes. Then he lets it drop, an absolutely smitten look in his eyes as he gazes up at her. ]
I need to make love to you. All night. Until you're satisfied.
[As self-conscious as Nero is when it comes to swearing around her, at times like this Kyrie canβt help but take it as something of a compliment, a sign that his self-control is slipping in the best of ways.
Hers is hanging by a thread as it is as her world contracts to just the two of them, on this bed, wearing far, far too many clothes. She doesnβt need to shop for more, sheβd quite happily never wear clothes again if it meant staying like this.
Cheeks flushed, lips swollen from kissing and panting softly, she pauses from riding him as he proclaims his intentions and just melts. Itβs like falling in love with him all over again.
She nods emphatically.]
Yes-
[Her voice catches somewhere in her throat and she snatches another needy, hungry kiss from him, her hips moving on him again to punctuate how emphatically she approves of his needs.]
[He lifts his head, it could be described, aggressively to meet her hungry kisses. At the same time, he plants his feet on the bed to give him more leverage, grinding back up on her in a clumsy, greedy rhythm. Quickly he realizes it doesn't work, and refocuses to get them closer.
Lifting his hips, he tilts Kyrie forward, cupping her face through the kisses with one hand and sparing the other to tug at the waistband of his boxers. It's a bit of a struggle with physics, so determined is he not to move her or make her get off of him, but with a few bucks and wiggles he manages to inch them down until he can kick them off victoriously. There comes the usual extension of his blush all the way down to his stomach as Kyrie gets a glimpse at all of him, rock hard and aching for her.
Fortunately, it's mostly a physical reaction at this point. For him it's been nine months, man...]
[Kyrie meets his kisses eagerly, greedily, touch starved and desperate for everything he has to offer her. Unfortunately, the failed attempt at getting them closer only serves to knock her balance and she wobbles atop him, laughing against his lips until he tilts her forward and shifts their position. She cools her assault on his mouth when she realises what he's trying to do, trying to be helpful in whatever way she can.
Helpful would probably be stopping her attempts to kiss every inch of his mouth but she doesn't want to do that, she'll just restrict herself to sweet little nibbles and kisses as he concentrates on shedding his clothes. It's in her best interests not to distract him here.
Her very limited show of patience is rewarded as she glances down at Nero's completely bare body beneath her and it's safe to say that any residual cold she might have felt from her escapades in the mountains is completely banished at the sight of him straining for her to touch him.
Who is she to deny him?
Her touch is soft, careful and tender as she takes him in her hand and strokes him gently, eyes fixed on his face and his reaction as she does. No matter how many times they do this, how often she gets to touch him, she never gets tired of his response or the way he feels in her hand.]
I've missed touching you, feeling you like this...
[She trails her kisses to his neck, down to his shoulder. Her hips still astride him as she devotes her focus to moving her hand up and down along his length.]
[It occurs to Nero that this could be much, much easier now that he has four arms at his disposal. But uh... Kyrie's kind of had a big day already. He thinks the revelation of Nero's new... tricks can go ahead and wait for another time.
He wets his lips as she starts to stroke him, relaxing back against the bed so they can both indulge for a moment. Digging his shoulders back into the mattress stops him from wiggling too much, helps him resist grinding back against her hand out of sheer desire for more of her touch.]
I missed your eyes. And your smile. Your voice... and how warm you are...
[Nero's hands find her thighs, squeezing affectionately, working up and down to encourage her.]
[She writhes a little under the pressure on her thighs, sighing happily against his ear as she adjusts her grip to hold him a little firmer, a little more insistent.]
I miss waking up beside you. [A fact that is going to be remedied very soon!]
I can't be mad at you like that ever again, I can't bear not having you near me, I couldn't sleep knowing you were nearby and I wasn't holding you. Wasn't touching you... wasn't letting you touch me where I wanted you to touch me.
[Is that a hint? It might well be. She kisses his throat, then along his jaw back to his ear, and whispers bashfully:]
[He knows he entirely deserved the brunt of Kyrie's wrath... sneaking out of the hospital to go aid Dante's fight against Urizen was a big, stupid risk and didn't end up paying off anyway. He spent the whole month afterwards seething at his failure and knowing full and well he deserved Kyrie's anger... but also knowing that he had no choice but to go back and try again. He deserved it, but that doesn't mean it didn't fucking suck in every way imaginable.]
I'll never make you mad like that ever again. [Or at least, he'll try really, really hard not to. It hurt like hell, disappointing her that badly on top of everything else.] Guh-
[His thighs twitch at a particularly good stroke, and he turns his head to give her more room to kiss his throat. Laid out flat for her enjoyment... there's nowhere else he'd rather be.
With one exception, which Kyrie kindly mentions. Nero turns absolutely crimson, reaching to slide his fingers back through her hair, turning his face to whisper back to her.]
[Her whole body flushes white hot at the sound he makes, a reminder of how much his pleasure affects her even when she's getting very little out of it in return (except the knowledge that she is the source of that noise, which is an extremely empowering thought.) She murmurs happily, but her hand stills on him as he slides his fingers through her hair and he announces his intentions. Well... all but begs.]
Yes. Yes please, always... I'll always...
[She slides off his lap and nestles against the pillows, splaying her legs ever so slightly. There's one tiny obstacle in the way which she's all too keen to do away with as she starts to slide her panties down over her hips. She fixes him with her gaze, molten and longing in equal measure.]
[Nero all but scrambles up to his knees when she slides off of him, perhaps a little desperately grabby in his eagerness to help. He leans over her, gazing warmly into her eyes... which does make his fingers clumsy as he assists with her panties. Once they're off, he tosses them off the side of the bed to be found later.
Then as he climbs over her, one hand slipping between her thighs to stroke her, he gets distracted and drawn into another long, luxuriant kiss. Nearly sidetracked, in fact, until the slide of bare skin over skin brings him blinking back to the present moment and the task at hand. He draws his hand back and nudges her thighs apart, easing between them, leaning in to touch their foreheads as he lets out a held-in breath.]
[Sometimes the build up to the main event can go on for much, much longer between them, but tonight is not the night for that. Kyrie has no idea how long they'll have the house to themselves and she's determined not to waste a second of that time.
She whimpers as his hand finds her between her legs and she arches off the bed at his initial touch, breathing shallow and all but a lost cause when he kisses her again. She writhes against his hand, ready and aching for more, their intimacy this evening having already worked wonders for her readiness for him.
She reaches for his hands, guiding one down to his cock with hers so she can help lead him home. Her eyes meet his.]
[Even if he does still get shy and embarrassed, even if just physically, Nero has thankfully learned plenty in the years they've been together. The most comfortable way to spread her thighs, the angle at which his body can best enter hers. With her guidance and her plea, he doesn't hesitate to sink inside her, slow and steady. Nero would never admit it out loud, but he suspects he's a little big for her to start with, and he's always careful as they're first getting going.
He sighs with longing and relief as he hilts in her, pausing to lean over and kiss her again, making small adjustments to the way her legs drape over his, the way his knees take his own weight and hers. Then propping his hands up over her shoulders, he slowly starts to move, groaning softly. It's like getting a drink of water after crawling through a desert.]
[Thereβs only ever been one man for Kyrie, will likely only ever be one man, this man, and the way he treats her body with such care and borderline reverence is proof enough that she doesnβt even need to entertain the thought of searching for another. She enjoys the slow, familiar stretch of muscles adjusting to accommodate him within her and exhales with him as he comes to rest fully within her. Itβs so good, heβs so good, every nerve ending feels electrified by the contact with him and she moans softly as he adjusts their positions to make her as comfortable as possible. Heβs too good to her, itβs only right she return the favour.
Shifting beneath him, she tightens around his length and kisses him hungrily, the edge of her appetite for him barely even scratched and so tantalisingly close to being what she needs with every little movement of his hips. She drapes one arm over his shoulder, the other looping around his waist as she looks up at him with a joyful little laugh.]
Iβm so glad this part didnβt change with everything thatβs happened.
[Yes, she is referring to a certain body part, and she punctuates that with a gentle squeeze of said part, accompanied by a soft, satisfied sigh for emphasis.]
He'd been out and about a little because why wouldn't he be?? But he'd been out to grab some snacks and the likes from the place he usually wanders off to when he's bored or, you know, needing to stock up on things, but. The trip had taken him a lot longer than it usually does given how off he feels. Physically more than emotionally, but. Hey. This is sure to tank his mood if this keeps up, so. Who's to say with the emotionally part just yet.
On his way "home", he's had to stop a few times to catch his breath β bend over some and just squeeze his eyes shut as a means to try and get his head to stop spinning. Heh. Maybe he should have checked if his usual spot had painkillers or something back there, but. When the Hell's he ever need those before? Is his demon blood sleeping on him right now or something? Rude if so. Or is this him getting old? Also rude because Vergil's the old man between them even when they were kids.
Either way, by the time he gets back, his head is spinning, his face is a little on the paler side, and he feels way hotter than he usually does because, obviously he's a stud. Ba dum tsh. Dragging his feet across the way, he coughs into his arm and blinks his eyes a few times as he goes and drops his bags onto whatever surface he'd managed to bump into first. )
Hey. Anyone see a hammer around here?
( So he can smash it over his head in an attempt to stop this headache. )
[At this point, he's finally gotten Vergil to chill the fuck out and take a rest. It involved a truly staggering pile of books being brought to the library, and a lot of arguing, and more than a few threats, but he did it. Now that Vergil's taking a load off in his room, Nero's free to clean up the house a little and maybe get a head start on dinner before Kyrie slides in and takes it upon herself to finish.
Then Dante arrives home. Nero's at the sink, washing dishes, but he turns around at strange greeting. He ought to be accustomed to those by now.]
What, you got your hand stuck in something again? [If the shoe fits, Unky...]
The accusation would ordinarily get a scoff from the youngest son of Sparda, but. As it stands, he gives more of a cough followed by a huff as he raises both his hands up. )
My hands are both free and clean.
( Arms dropping down to his sides, he goes about rummaging through the bags he'd dropped down, rubbing at his brow with the back of a gloved hand as he does. )
( It's for his special lasagna he makes for Vergil and, from the looks of it, yes. He forgot it. Heavy sigh and eyes falling shut, he pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to will away the pounding happening across his head.
Couple seconds later, he forces himself to straighten up and coughs a little before he's slowly pulling away from the table, dragging his feet as he goes. )
( At that, he's slow to turn on his heel to face the kid. Don't wanna do it too quick and make himself feel like he wants to puke or something. )
Me? The greatest and coolest son of Sparda? I should be offended you even asked that.
( To which he gives him a wave and starts for the door again... only to have to clutch at the wall for a second or two because hoo boy, is the room starting to spin or something? )
Yeah, well, be offended if you want, 'cuz the other son of Sparda is currently laid up in his room because he was coughing and dizzy and puking earlier. I think there's something going around.
[Vergil claimed that the half-and-half twins don't GET sick, but clearly that's not the case.]
Why don't you take it easy and I can go get your sauce?
He waves Nero off β throws a smile back to the kid over his shoulder as he straightens himself up, then lets out a breath as he shakes a finger in the direction of the door. )
Look. Just because it slipped my mind, doesn't mean you got to go and save the day for your old uncle here. Besides. I could use the fresh air. Smells like a library in here.
( He's making his way for the door with those boots of his dragging against the floor and then he's... falling down to the floor. Well. Sliding down towards it since he's trying to hold to the wall for balance. Doesn't quite work, who would have thought, so. Down he goes. With a big heavy thump. )
First off, I don't got to do anything I don't want to do. And second-
[This is right about when Dante goes down like a sack of bricks. Nero just stands there a moment, staring. Then he walks over to stand beside his uncle and offer him a hand up. When he's coherent enough to take it.]
( The floor feels so nice and cool with his cheek pressed to it, strands of gray-white having fallen in front of his face. He can't remember the last time something got him so bad like this... has it really been that long? How'd he get over it the last time? Hell if he remembers. He wishes he did.
Eyes squeezing shut to try and combat the spinning of his head, he doesn't bother to move. Just lays there on the floor. The nice cool and not moving floor. )
The younger son, on the other hand, chooses to remain there on the floor for a bit longer until he's more or less sure the room has stopped spinning for the time being. That's when a hand presses against the floor and, using that demonic strength there in his veins, he pushes himself up off the floor. Slowly. Eyes squeezed shut as he does. Better safe than sorry!
He manages to get himself up on a knee β takes a moment to breathe β then slowly gets himself the rest of the way up. Slow, easy movements are the key here, which is a little annoying to someone like him, but. That seems to be the name of the game here. Once he's more or less up, he holds at the wall again and just presses his shoulder to it then. Again, got to take things nice and slow.
And then he's slowly making his way for the door to head on out. Nero's too busy with whatever in the kitchen, right? )
One hand goes towards that doorknob, and a shiny blue clawed hand rests on Dante's shoulder, then spins him around to face his vexed-looking nephew, folding his arms.]
Really, dude? You think you're gonna make it to the store like this?
He can't even say anything because his head spins and his stomach lurches and there he goes, bending over, hands on his knees and eyes squeezed shut. )
Jesus, Nero. You can't just go spinning people around like that.
He pushes Nero's hand off his shoulder and tries to straighten himself up some but it's just... a little hard to do at the moment, so he ends ups hunched over again, hands right back on his knees. He just... needs a second. Or two. Maybe three. )
It's not a contest. A big, stubborn baby who won't accept help contest.
[Nero gives him those few seconds, just to see if he'll miraculously shake off the vertigo on his own. When Dante insists he shouldn't worry Nero sighs audibly, then reaches down to pick him up and gently set him over his shoulder in a fireman carry. No wing help needed! He's trying not to move him too fast, at least.]
Alright. All of a sudden he's off the floor and over Nero's shoulder? This kid. Honestly. )
Why I oughtaβ
( But his words are cut short when he coughs a couple times there over Nero's shoulder, clearly not in the mood to try and fight him on this. Consider yourself lucky, kiddo. )
This what you did with your old man? And do you have any video footage if so?
Dad said you guys don't get sick ever. So this is like an extreme case of the man-flu. [A beat. De-man flu. Heh. [Look, he thinks he's funny.
Nero hefts Dante into his bedroom, and is even kind enough not to bodyslam him onto the bed. This time. He cracks open a window for some fresh air, muttering as he goes.]
Jeez, you guys really are twins. Same sickness, same insistence it's gonna kill you to accept a little help...
[Then he parks it on the bed alongside Dante, sitting for a moment.]
Maybe you'll feel better if you sleep it off. Dad doesn't nap, [delivered in a perfect snotty impression of Vergil's voice] but it could help.
( The moment he hits the bed, he groans because shit, his old bones. They ache. At least the spinning isn't as bad now? Probably because he's, once again, laying down. Still, he hates that he's been bitten with something and his demonic blood can't seem to shake it. A little concerning to say the least, but. Here he is. In his bed here... and Nero is sitting down on his bed. Oh. )
You mean to tell me I got this from your old man? I'm gonna cough all over him the second I can get up.
Anyone ever tell you violence isn't the answer to most things?
( Gosh, kiddo.
But he's just going to lay there. In boots and jacket and guns strapped to his back. Uncomfortable? A bit. But he's also had worse over the years and especially in his youth. )
( The nudge pulls a cough out of him which turns into a laugh and then a groan as he rubs at his head. It's not as bad as it had been when he was walking around all sluggish-like, but. It's still there. Least the room isn't spinning for him anymore. Now it's just a a throbbing in his head. )
Wouldn't want to get your lady love all sick now, would we?
( To which he gives Nero a weak little fingergun. )
[Another nudge, a little harder this time... he's aiming to take those guns off because honestly, Dante, nobody should need to tell you how to relax.]
No, but you'd better be ready for the best soup you've ever eaten in your life. When she hears you guys are sick she's gonna be all in on nurse mode. There'll be no stopping her.
( Chuckling through a cough, he presses a fist between his brows, breath leaving him a little shakily. He's in pain but he's not going to show it because... that's for weenies. He will just lay here and suffer through it as a true son of Sparda. Vergil wouldn't whine or complain, so. Therefore, neither can he. Well. He can to Vergil with his little brother status and all, but. To Nero? Never. )
Well, yeah? After I got out of the orphanage she was the only one who cared when I got sick.
[He finally gets him rolled over just enough to pluck Ebony and Ivory off his back, then lets him flop back over onto the mattress. He is much less gentle yanking Dante's boots off.]
Lucky you guys, now you've got both of us. I'm sure you're thrilled.
( He lifts his head up some when he feels Nero there at his feet but... drops it back down against the pillow because, no. That hurts a little. He needs to just lay here and move as little as possible. Kids, honestly. )
Sure. You got Kyrie. Vergil's got Mizu. Happy for you both.
No, dingus. I meant you and Dad have me and Kyrie looking out for you.
[He gets both boots off and tosses them on the floor, then sets Ebony and Ivory somewhere safe (not throwing, not to worry.) The rest is Dante's problem if he decides to deal with it.]
There. Now, you want some water, or should I just leave you be?
( Well. Not really, but. What's he going to do? Power through it the best he can and hope his demonic healing is just a little delayed in getting him over this. After all, how long can this really last? Surely not days or weeks, right? ...right???
Either way, he waves Nero off and presses his fist between his brows again, eyes shut and just... hating how he feels. )
V's days, day after gluttonous day, do not revolve around anyone but himself. However, he's made a habit of keeping an eye on Vergil, even making conversation no matter how awkward or stilted. Something remains easier, even as it's harder, with the 'complete' version of himself. The siren song of curiosity calls his name, yet what information he learns hardly satisfies him. There's no familiar to bond with and gain memories from, only conversation between two people alike in dignity. It's enough to make Vergil's absence from anywhere he usually is notable. V spends a couple days at Catfe without spotting him. The little Russian Blue starts mewing at him with firm demands pets and plain scrambled eggs do not satisfy.
"Me too," V sighs at her. He doesn't truly have the Lore to spare on treating Vergil's favorite cat, nor the one who has adopted him, but he spends it. Trapping the waitress in conversation about what treats the cats like probably paid for it. Yet the time has come to an end, yet another late afternoon early evening without sight of the man. He better not have vanishedβnot on Nero and Dante. V doesn't need him.
So he approaches one of the busybody spirits he's overheard gossiping about everyone's business but their own and asks where the Russian Blue's favorite lives. He gets directions to a house in the right neighborhood. It brings a small pep to his step that Vergil is well known enough that someone can direct him. It implies good things, however aloof the man may act. Thankfully, it's not that far, so V doesn't need a break on the way. Nor does he accept Griffon's offer of help. Last thing he needs Vergil to see is him getting carried about.
The house is a normal looking house with enough room for multiple bedrooms and an attached garage. He's not sure why the garage, given he doesn't know of almost anyone here with much in the way of personal transportation. Nero had a van, but surely the van hasn't come with him to Folkmore when so little follows them. Questions, but staring at the house from some ways away does not answer them. The trouble is that Vergil lives with Nero and Dante, and V has no way to know who will come answer the door. Each situation is vastly different. V could take another day or so to prepare, but even he's aware of how foolish that is. He may have more days, but they are not for wasting.
So he walks up to the front door, leans against his cane, and knocks. Eenie, meenie, miney, moe. Who will it be?
Nero is doing his best to remain calm and positive, but after several days of caring for both his father and his uncle on their sickbeds, the violent urges are starting to pile up. They're both frustrating in different ways, and everybody's starting to get stir-crazy, even Kyrie, and yeah it sucks that they're not feeling good, and for fuck's sake why does Nero care so much what two stupid old men do when they're sick? Except he's well aware if he leaves them to their own devices he's gonna end up dragging one or both of them home after they're found facedown on the pavement miles and miles away, and just-
It's been trying! That's all!
Fresh off making lunch, Nero is about to make an excuse to abandon the house for a while when someone knocks at the door. Excellent. An excuse. He's not sure who to expect when he goes to answer it, but he's definitely not expecting the impossible, rail-thin familiar form that greets him on the other side.
Nero is visibly struck surprised. He pauses a moment, glances back into the house, then spends a few more seconds fumbling for what he should say or do.
He settles on something simple, a nice and neutral: "Oh. Hey, V."
The roll of the die lands on Nero. Perhaps the most uncertain of them all, not because of how things were last V saw Nero but because of what he's learned since. Logic said Nero had to be Vergil's or Dante's. He knew that from the start. The obvious answer was Dante, and that answer was wrong. Vergil's claimed the role of Nero's father, as is his right. V... what can he do? If either of them will protect or rescue the other, it's Nero, not him. Nero has his father, his uncle... what could he need of V?
Whatever has happened with Vergil, Nero already knows more than V, so while it would be business for V to stick to that inquiry and nothing else, it would only burden Nero and not take him into account. Whatever has happened to Vergil has to wait.
That's when he notices Nero's arm, namely that it is made of flesh and blood. V blinks and glances at it a couple of times. However, it is likely in poor form to ask about the regrowing of a limb one is partially responsible, depending how one views it, is responsible for someone losing. The truth of the matter is that its presence, when Nero recognizes him and has forgiven Vergil for ripping it off, is that its return must owe itself to some demonic ability. Nero must be more powerful than he was last V saw him.
"Nero," V inclines his head. "Is this a bad time?"
If it is, he can quickly ask after Vergil and go. It would be so much simpler, but V cannot help noticing he hopes the answer is no, it's a fine time. Nero has time for him and chooses to give it.
He'd known V was present here in Folkmore. Vergil, correctly, let him know pretty quickly. It's just that knowing he's here and being face-to-face with him are two different prospects. And Nero was kind of hoping he'd process the whole weirdass situation and know where he stood on it before having to face V in person.
So much for that. Now here he stands, the man who Nero now knows is some kind of supernatural piece of his father-- who is currently inside whining profusely.
Nero didn't know V very well. They were... not friends, surely, but partners in a shared aim. Brothers in arms. And Nero cared about him in that respect. He'd rescued the man, honored his dying wish, struggled to bear him that last stretch into the Qliphoth, and listened to him spill his guts about a deep, secret longing. The revelation about his identity had obviously rocked Nero's world, but not so much that he didn't ask after V's safety in the moments after he'd vanished.
V is Vergil, his father. But he also isn't. But even then, Nero sees no reason to turn him away, or treat him like some stranger. That's all he needs to get started untangling this twisted knot, at least.
"No, it's not a bad time," he says honestly. Manners suggest he invite V in, but it's probably not a good idea when there's illness in the house. Or when Nero's about to commit a homicide. "Both of the old farts are sick, and I'm sick of arguing with them about it, that's all. You, um... you need something?"
No amount of 'he is a person, you're a person, talk like people' helps V. It would require he know how people talk like people. Memories of being a child, Vergil's long lonely life after their mother died, his month of existence in Red Grave City, none of it tells him how to behave. More than that, Nero isn't simply a person, a stranger, like the ones he's slowly started to speak with around Folkmore to maintain enough Lore to eat. Conversation it yet will be because it's not a bad time. Conversationβ
V's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the shocking information Nero drops. "Vergil and Dante are sick?"
He confirms it quickly with a question, though no one else could meet Nero's lightly crass description. What could get a son of Sparda sick? Both of them? Nothing he has any knowledge of, and that suggests their host. The show of power to bring two sons of Sparda to their knees impresses him. It's a sign how dangerous she is. If not her, then someone else as well. Multiple powerful persons on that scale are not what they need. Best confirm it's her.
"Nothing more pressing than their well being," V says. His lips flatten. This illness is not a problem of his making, but if he can fix itβ If nothing else, V owes Nero a favor. He wouldn't be alive without his help. "If I may be of assistance, please let me know."
No matter what V wants of Nero, it's a bad time to impose upon him. He's clearly taking care of a lot. "If they can be left to convalesce, perhaps you could use a distraction."
"They're fine," Nero says flatly, immediately at V's concern. "Just dizzy and weak and coughing. I guess half-demons don't get sick very often, which explains all the goddamn bellyaching about it..."
V offers his assistance, and Nero is sorely tempted to ask if he's got a gag or two handy.
"They're about to be left on the side of the road somewhere if I don't get out of this house." To further make the point, Nero steps outside and closes the door behind him. "What kind of distraction?"
V is not sick the way Nero describes, but he's weak. Everything takes so much effort, and he gets exhausted easily. If he were anywhere else, he'd be dead. V manages the much improved as unwell as ever. Fully human weaknesses. Vergil remembers those times. He may have closer experience to it than Dante, but it must infuriate him to feel such weakness as the whole, the half-demon both demon and human. To think, V may be able to do more now than him.
Nero steps forward, and V takes a half-step back to give him more space. It's well and good except that Nero asks what distraction he means. The question implied V came for Nero and had ideas in mind, a sound choice if only he'd made it. Instead he wracks his mind for a distraction, one that Nero might like and would not exhaust V. Something active, if only to give them more to do than stare at each other uncomfortably. He knows so little of Folkmore.
"I've heard tell of an arcade in Epiphany but not gone," V suggests. His only other ideas involve eating food. That has too much of simply sitting with each other, with no distraction save to take a bite of food in a bid for time. He shrugs. He doesn't need anything of Nero besides Nero. They could row a boat on a lake for all he cares. There's more conversations they need to have, he suspects, than one day can handle. That day may not even be today.
An arcade? That doesn't sound like V's kind of scene... and then Nero realizes he's suggesting it for his benefit, because he thinks it might be something Nero would like. (He's also correct.)
What a very familiar maneuver that is.
For a moment he looks at V, a little bemused, as though trying to read something in his face. What he's thinking, maybe. Whether or not he knows who Nero is-- though the fact Vergil's spoken to him means that the information probably came up. What he might think about that. Just when the moment starts to draw out uncomfortably long, he smiles and turns back into the house.
"Gimme a sec. I'll grab my stuff."
He emerges a few minutes later, pulling on his jacket and more certain than ever that the Sparda family all needs a couple hours' break from each other. For safety reasons.
"Let's go for a walk and see where we end up," he offers. "I need the fresh air and. Well. Guess we probably ought to catch up, huh?"
The silence gets filled, in V's mind, with Griffon's unhelpful chatter. Fortunately, V's gotten good at making no outward reaction to the bird's histrionics. Internally, unfortunately, is another matter and one Griffon gets a sense of, if not those around him. It's distracting, however, from how much dead air stands between V's suggestion and Nero's response, so that his anxiety has not entirely spiked when the boy speaks.
On the one hand, Nero implicitly agrees to spend time with V. On the other hand, it says nothing about the specific offer. V's not especially tied to the idea of an arcade, so it's overall a win. Nero talking with him and continuing to talk with him after what conversations they need to have is the real victory. Not that V would have softballed any challenges in the arcade to let Nero win in order to curry favor. No, any victory would be earned fairly. The same as it feels this win is.
V reads a little poetry while Nero gets his things and closes the book, tucking it away, as the door opens. Since all he sees different is the jacket, V supposes Nero likely checked on his patients and made sure they were ready to brave the world for a short span on their own without anyone caring for them. Knowing the Sparda twins, they would manage no matter what, but as Nero plays babysitter and nursemaid, perhaps not to his satisfaction.
He nods and starts walking... no direction in particular. As much as this part of Epiphany is his most explored, V has no destination in mind. Perhaps not Catfe, as he's already spent hours there today, but that's hardly direction. "There was a great deal we did not have time to speak of while making our way through the qliphoth tree," V comments, "It would do us both good to talk."
Vergil's summary of the rest of that day did not cover Nero's arm regrowing, perhaps not important a topic, but more to the point, there's how V treated Nero. It's not the relationship he wants with Nero now. "If there's any topic you most want to discuss, we can talk about it first."
Nero seems perfectly content to just follow along aimlessly wherever V goes. More of a walk than any kind of destination in mind. He has the distinct sense of deja-vu though, from the day he arrived in Folkmore and found himself wandering aimlessly after Vergil.
Vergil and V. It seems... rude somehow to conflate the two, but how can he not?
"You're looking a lot better. That's good," he remarks. "Though. Hard to look worse than you did last time I saw you, huh?"
Well, that's a hell of an icebreaker. But Nero's good at those.
"So is this... weird for you? With Vergil and all?"
The compliment from Nero earns a quirk of the brow. V looks no better or worse than he did when he arrived, which is to say than he did the moment he came from. So he clearly got worse before he succeeded in his missionβnot a surprise by any means, simply an unpleasant reality. With Nero (and presumably Dante, though to a lesser degree), it shifts from a matter of logic to lived truth. It makes him appreciate being hereβalive and "well"βand simultaneously irritated with Thirteen given that must be the effect she's going for.
He's not irritated with Nero over it. The remark probably means little, other than something to say. Perhaps along a similar line of 'you have twice as many arms as last time I saw you.' V will pass on saying as much.
"It's... unexpected," V says, "I never considered the possibility of meeting Vergil. His existence would mean both I succeeded and I no longer existed. Yet he was one of the people I met my first day in this place."
So there was no time to consider the odds of Vergil coming to or being in Folkmore. All the other vast amounts of information flooded at him was enough. He should have thought that far in advance. Except, Vergil isn't a threat, nor his presence a risk to V's well being. Not on Vergil's account.
V's response catches him a little off guard, and he has to think about it for a moment. Is it possible, maybe, that V doesn't remember all of what happened? That seems like something the stupid fox would do.
"What's the last thing you remember?" he asks, going off the hunch. At least it should prevent him from saying anything else really stupid, or... dropping any truthbombs he doesn't mean to, come to think of it.
Smart kid. V wonders how much of the time between what V remembers and what Nero remembers the boy will share. The question is likely to calibrate himself, but that information can get put to multiple uses. V doesn't expect to learn or know everything about the future, that infinity between him and Vergil that can only be hours. Yet some of it is surely relevant to know, of his interest and right. Vergil knows it all. Vergil remembers it all, but he said nothing of V's memories from that day.
"Vergil told me what he thought I needed to know," V answers that question first. "After I merged with Urizen, he and Dante left you to finish destroying the qliphoth roots in the demon realm."
That summarizes it really. A single sentence without notably more detail. His lips curl up. "I know that must leave a great deal out, even of what I cannot remember. I'd just caught Malphas's attention and thought it likely my mission would fail."
Someone saved him. It's the only explanation for how he'd make it farther. V considers Nero again. Process of elimination would suggest it was him. Dante forged ahead without waiting for them, and everyone else remained in the van. Yet it's too large a thing to assume based purely on that logic, when so much happened that chaotic day.
Vergil told him what he thought he needed to know... well, that narrows it the fuck down. So anything between "everything in excruciating detail" and "absolutely nothing."
V is then at least good enough to be more specific. So he was told about the twins fucking off and leaving Nero behind. Doesn't really clarify some of the more important bits...
"Malphas..." Nero murmurs. "That ugly bird freak? With the chicks on the back?" He remembers, of course. Just didn't catch her... its... their name? "I strung her up like a rotisserie and stuck a fork in her."
His tone gets a little more solemn. "Then you were... dying. Crumbling to bits. You asked me to take you to Urizen, so I did. Then the whole... pillar of light and Vergil bit, yeah."
His heart flops over in his chest, rather like a dying chicken, when Nero confirms that he killed Malphas, that he saved V. The one means the other given the situation he came from. He feels like a small child of eight again surrounded by demons and desperate, not for power, but to be saved. For someone to step in and stop the demons from killing him. Only the yamato answered his call, and with it, his power. He had to save himself, no matter how much it hurt. His chest aches with longing, that strange dissonance between knowing he'll be saved and not yet having been saved. Could the fox not have come for him moments later?
No, it seems. As difficult a time as V has now, dying and crumbling to bits is not a sustainable state to be in. Despite the burn in his chest, he inclines his head in recognition of what Nero says. Words take longer.
His legs carry him down the river of emotion that threatens to sweep him away. Nero was the key. Even if Dante was strong enough to defeat Urizen that day without Nero's help, V wouldn't have succeeded without Nero. Vergil wouldn't exist without him. They both owe him their lives. He had no idea how right that feeling was to go to Fortuna that night Dante lost to Urizen.
"Thank you," V says seriously. "You did more than I ever hoped."
Nero blinks. Turns slightly pink. Clearly has no idea what to do with the sudden and sincere expression of gratitude. Not that V had never expressed gratitude to him before, but it was more in the way of "I owe you one" or other cryptic, distant statements. It's a bit startling to hear this from... not from Vergil, but from someone with enough of Vergil in him to make Nero realize how bizarre open gratitude is.
"Um... sure. You're welcome." He reaches up to itch his nose, a nervous tic. "It wasn't a big deal. We were all on the same team."
V watches the way ahead of them to give Nero and himself some privacy from that bare emotion. He needed more time before he spoke, perhaps a matter of hours. No matter that he has those hours now, it always feels like he doesn't, like whatever he's doing may well be his last. Instead of dying of shame, he has to live with it. It sounds like it was too much.
It was a big deal, but V isn't going to reinforce that. It's no larger or smaller for shying away from it in conversation. Nor does he feel any less... everything about it. It matters to him.
"We were," V confirms. Save the world. Fix his mistake. Whichever lens best suited the person in question, the outcome was the same. Whatever else he did, whatever lies he told, V was always honest that he wanted to stop Urizen's reckless pursuit of power and that he needed help to do so.
Nero never pictured himself as manipulated or tricked during the Red Grave incident. He didn't need any convincing or prodding for a shot at avenging himself on Urizen-- even if the decision to abscond from his hospital room put him in the doghouse with Kyrie for the next month. He was, of course, absolutely in the dark when it came to the true meaning of events and the true nature of the enemy they faced. But that was as much Dante's doing as it was V's. He even sort of understands why Dante lied by omission, at this point.
It's less clear to him why V kept things so close to the chest, apart from the sheer unbelievable audacity of his story. Would Nero or Dante have even believed him if he did tell the truth? It probably wouldn't have changed any of Nero's actions or choices. And now, he certainly can't deny that, short of the entire mess being prevented from the beginning, things ended about as well as they could have under the circumstances. They all lived. Vergil lived. And V... Well. He's alive now, anyway.
"What else did Vergil tell you?" he asks, nearing what he thinks might be the real crux of the matter. "About me?"
Nero gives a practical answer, and whatever complicated feelings lie behind it, V can only take him at his word. It's disrespectful to do otherwise. He will not assume where that leaves them. Being on the same side is the bare minimum for remaining civil with each other. It says nothing to what their relationship might be here where there is not a common enemy that urgently must be fought. Whatever Thirteen is, even should V be able to defeat her, that might only spell his death and the end of Vergil's life with Nero.
It's not time yet for V to ask questions. He offered to answer questions for Nero, and the next question is entirely reasonable. If V hadn't spoken with Vergil yet or if Vergil said nothing of the matter, Nero would be in the position to reveal the truth to Vβthe alternative being to wait for Thirteen to do so. It's too shocking a revelation to be left alone.
"When we first met, I knew you had to be a Sparda," V says. "I assumed at the time you were Dante's. After speaking with Vergil, I know I was wrong."
He words it carefully, neither claiming nor rejecting Nero as his. He's had daysβdays!βto think about it, and it still confounds him. Oh, not how it happened. He understands when that happened, but what it means for him and Nero? It elevates the uncertainty between them to a whole new level.
V looks over at Nero. "Foolish though it may be, it was more confounding to learn than anything about this place."
Man... was it really that obvious to everyone else?
Like, okay. Nero had also known, in some respect, that he was probably related to the Sparda line. White hair? Superpowers? It's not like there are all that many other demon hybrids running around. But he supposed it never occurred to him how very few there were.
For a long time he, too, wondered if Dante might be his father. He was old enough, and they looked similarly, and had so much in common... but Nero also assumed that Dante would have told him so, were that the case. (In hindsight he wonders why he assumed that, given Dante acts like being straightforward with Nero will actually kill him more often than not. Not unjustifiably, Nero suspects, but still...) But it still surprises him to hear that V-- a shade of his own father-- assumed that as well.
(This whole V business is fucking weird, make no mistake, but it does provide some deeper insight into Vergil... a fact Nero suspects Vergil probably hates.)
V's words leave him a little caught off guard. He frowns, raising an eyebrow. "Confounding how? What do you mean?"
What people may glean about Vergil from their interactions with V is Vergil's problem, something the man no doubt realized as soon as he lay eyes on V. V will do, did, whatever his duty by Vergil. He is the reason Vergil exists. It's difficult enough without trying to cover Vergil's ass. Nor would it likely work. He's not one to take up a lost cause.
He is not sure how much thought Nero has given him or more accurately them, their relationship. If the boy has a clear idea of what he wants or does not, it would be simpler no matter what that answer is. V could set aside any thoughts of his own as to what it could be and accept what it is. Until then, the ground is unsteady at best and threatens to crumble.
"Oh, I know whence you come," V says, "I did not have all my memories when we first met, but they've stitched themselves together with time. It simply complicates what we might mean to each otherβ
"A question I don't expect an answer to today or by any certain date. You have more than enough on your hands right now."
He motions behind them toward the house and its patients they left behind. It's an issue Vergil is no help on. Vergil made clear he's Nero's father, and V is glad for him, for them both. In the long run, when they leave this place, it is no issue, but for as much of a life as V has, it's an answer he'll have to find. He doesn't even know what it would be, should Nero leave it entirely in his hands.
Nero opens his mouth to retort, but finds he doesn't know what to say. Obviously the situation with Vergil and V is quite unique. He's uncertain what the both of them actually think or feel about any of this or what they may have spoken of when they met up. He's also not sure what he would even begin to call V if pressed for a label now. A friend? An ally? A family member? But what family member, then? A brother? Maybe even a... stepfather?
He feels a sudden pang at that thought. Pictures Vergil's face crumbling to hear it spoken aloud. Is it possible to cheat on your dad with a weird supernatural remnant of himself?
But at the same time, is that fair to V? He'd described him to Kyrie as "everything good in Vergil." It feels quite cruel to deny that, to deny the sprouting feelings and realizations that would, theoretically, blossom into the way Vergil feels about Nero now. And even without any fucky-wucky time bullshit factored in, it feels wrong to treat V as a castoff, as a lesser person. Even if he literally is.
God. He went from having zero parents to having a father and a half and not knowing how the fuck to handle that. Ain't that just the way?
After a moment of silence, awkward fretting, glancing at V here and again, he finally lets out a quiet sigh.
"Well. Okay. What might I mean to you, then?" He folds his arms, looking a little self-conscious. "I'm not... sure how we should deal with this."
A clear no, Nero has not thought about it. That's fine. It's hardly a situation most people ever find themselves in, and as Folkmore has made abundantly clear, there is no shortage of issues on which to spend his time. It's one reason V's hesitated to call on the house and to speak with Nero or Dante. Whatever they thought of him before, they must think something differently of him now. An issue that seemed the past, only a part of Vergil's story, until the day V arrived. So they've had no more time to ponder it than him.
The question gets turned back on V, both eminently reasonable and imminently uncomfortable. Entirely unavoidable as well. It's only natural that Nero's opinion of what he wants would be influenced by what V wants. The question that stares him down in the mirror (when other people are not busy appearing in said mirror) in many iterations: what does he want? what does it mean?
"I must first preface that whatever relationship we might develop does nothing to undermine, demean, or lessen your relationship with Vergil in any regard," V says, "He is your father, and I am given to understand he has worked hard to make amends, gain your trust, and take on that mantle."
No one has implied V would do so, but his presence alone impacts their lives. The ties between him and Vergil cannot be cut, only acknowledged.
"Handling Urizen, I lacked the time to consider what you or Dante might mean to me. You would mean nothing if I failed, and it all seemed like it could wait until thenβdespite the fact that means until the point I no longer existed as myself," V says. It's so hard to speak of the matter itself, but he cannot speak around it entirely. "Even should you ever decide I mean nothing more than a stranger to you, you will always mean something to me. Something more than the means to stop Urizen and correct my mistake."
The word hangs in his mind.
"Family, I expect. The shape that might take remains more nebulous. Father, uncle, brother, they rise and fall as questions. As something we might be. The only clear thing about it is that whatever we are will take time and effort." His heart races, as though he's running and fighting with all his might. It's only one foot in front of the other, and that feels challenging at the moment. V leans on his cane at the immensity of what he's said.
"A title without what comes behind it is meaningless."
He knows how difficult this must be for him. Just because V is the human parts of Vergil doesn't mean that he's particularly adept at being honest, or forthcoming, or feeling feelings... cuz Vergil fucking sucks at those too. Nero does try to make the same approach work, listening quietly, giving him the time to get out what he wants to say.
He at once does and does not need the acknowledgement that whatever V is to him, it doesn't take away from Vergil. In fact, he finds himself deeply, deeply relieved to hear it. These are anxieties he didn't even realize he was feeling, but giving them a name has made them suddenly far more intense and looming in their dread. The last thing he wants is for some kind of spat to form between the two. Wouldn't that affect something, logically? Would V becoming angry or upset with Nero translate over to Vergil's feelings, too? He's barely found his father (and his shadow), the last thing he needs is to alienate him (or his shadow.)
Nero waits until V seems to be done speaking. Mercifully, he doesn't leave him hanging to sit there and wonder if what he said was being accepted or rejected.
"Yeah." Okay, it isn't the most in-depth response, but he does at least elaborate a bit. "You're right. I don't... know what we are, but I know we're not nothing."
He glances over at V. "You're not nothing. We'll... see what happens, I guess."
V feels as pathetic as he looks in the short time between ending his words, his long stream of words that he barely controlled, and Nero's response. He may as well have eviscerated himself and offered his organs to Nero, how raw it feels. How quickly that could turn to rejection and crumble to dust.
One word, and his feeling feel foolish. Childish even. Nero has never treated him cruelly and helped him where Dante focused on the mission, on Urizen, on (in his mind) Vergil. Nero is not the person to reject V out of hand. If he were, they would not be on this walk or having this conversation. A simple exchange about being busy caring for Vergil and Dante would have been enough. V would have respected that answer and left. Instead, it's this uncertain unsteady footing.
"That may be the most apt description of me I've heard," V remarks dryly. Not nothing, no matter what Vergil thought in the moment he discarded V. He's the human weakness left behind and more. That weakness is more than weakness. Without his need for others, his experience asking for help, he could not have reached out to Nero as he had. As he is.
"We have the time," V says. They're walking nowhere so far as he knows. It's farther from the parts of Epiphany he's become familiar with. They walk, and V has no further idea what they might do togetherβeat? fight? Nero rejected the idea of the arcade (just as well, V cares little for the location on a personal level, more at ease in a bookstore or library). "I'm in a guest cabin near Elder Mother Station. Until I find more permanent housing."
Nero is new to this "family" thing, but not to that raw, awful feeling of vulnerability. Of offering oneself to someone, wholly and sincerely. Too many times he's felt it, only to have the gesture thrown back in his face, or otherwise violently rejected somewhere down the line. He would be conscious of such a gesture coming from anyone, much less the shadow of his own father.
He shrugs and offers an awkward little smirk at V's observation. Nero doesn't consider himself particularly profound but sometimes he does hit the nail on the head.
So V is nearby... but Vergil notably didn't ask him to live with them. Yeah, Nero ain't touching that with a 20 foot pole, nor even bringing the idea up.
"I hope it's a nice cabin at least," he says. "That's not that far, right? That's good. If you end up needing anything you should let me know, now that you know where the house is."
Appropriate that Nero would identify what V is better than Vergil in some regards. Vergil knows V inside and out, having been him, yet that also leaves him too close. He's too close to V to understand everythingβto understand the idea of a future where V persists. They're awkward around each other and mean something, but neither of them ventures to put it into words. Nero goes there and hits it in one. He seemed less powerful, less trained, less familiar with his power than Vergil or Dante, but he's more... something.
V only observes for now. Everything is too tenuous to say anything about anything. V doesn't know Nero the way Vergil or Dante does. Say the wrong thing, and what little they have could evaporate. Get cut. Cast off.
"It's nicer than anything I've known," V says. He may push the limits of how long one is expected to stay. The Lapine neighborhood is also close. He may wind up there, living in a burrow like a hobbit. The housing in Folkmore is all adequate, what V has seen of it, but he chose the guest cabin because it's close to the neighborhood Vergil said they lived in. He's stayed for that reason. "You too should call on me if you need something."
Something Vergil and Dante cannot provide. So pretty much, nothing.
"Low bar. I mean, what... I guess you just kind of... showed up... kicked around Red Grave for a month..." Nero drifts off, realizing he is only mostly sure of the timeline of V's existence. He was comatose for part of it, after all. Thanks, Dad. He's also not sure how lighthearted remarks about it will be taken.
"Anyway." Change subject, quick. "I will. You know where I could get some goddamn sedatives? The two of them are the biggest, whiniest babies in the world right now and one afternoon of peace and quiet could do us all a favor. Talk about manflu."
It's not a sore topic for V. He'd gladly share that the local riffraff made themselves known attacking him so that he could steal enough of their money to hire Dante. Dante still took money, even if Nero hadn't. After they parted ways, Red Grave City was worse off than before. However, the fewer people made it easier when the demons weren't attacking him. If the food worse. Don't eat demons, kids, not if you can help it.
He says none of it because Nero veers away into another topic entirely unrelated. Nero doesn't have to know more than he wants to or be reminded of anything unpleasant, like the reason he was in the hospital in the first place. The question makes him consider the individuals he's interacted with and the various people offering services.
"Could check out the hospital wing at Amrita Academy," V says, "People keep recommending I go there." Except his health isn't an issue so readily solved at a hospital. They can't fix a soul being ripped in two, and V doesn't want them to fix it if they can. Vergil and V in Folkmore may be awkward, but two Vergils would be undoubtedly worse.
He smiles and shakes his head a little at the pun. It sounds like something Griffon would say. "Have you considered hitting them over the head really hard? That could do the trick."
Darling that's so sweet of you to say, but everything looks like marshmallows. I can bleach them! I'm sure it'll wash out, where do you keep the bleach? I want to get them fixed before the others get home.
And a handsome young man, about 6'3" with silver hair, a beautiful smile and the kindest heart of anyone I've known? Do you think you could bring one of those home too?
ooh I'll check but they might be fresh out of those
how bout a 6'3" punk with an attitude and the most beautiful amazing generous sweetheart of a girlfriend in the history of the universe πππππππππ
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Anyway yeah you heard right
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Wanna do something with it? I could use a work out.
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You mean like training??
Yeah that'd be good
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Anyway the answer is yes actually that's a good idea. I'm not very good at it yet
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But in all seriousness, let me help. You want to get better, right? I'm your girl.
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Somehow I think this is gonna be tough for you. You still in?
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Developing your Devil Trigger does involve working on your endurance, and that's NOT me making any sort of comment on any other type of performance you might have anxieties about.
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I don't know what to do but I need to get better. Get more energy to work with or at least know how to use it better you know??
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I don't think I'll get as up in my own head with you either
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Put if you pull YOUR punches because I'm a woman then I am going to kick your ass into next Thursday.
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I punch really fucking hard and I don't want to hurt anybody is that so fuckin weird
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[Yeah okay so she kind of snuffed it, but details. She got better!]
You punch really fucking hard? Great. Put it to the test and punch harder. You're not the only one who's looking to get stronger. It's not a real workout until someone's bleeding anyway.
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But fine whatever. Don't come cryin to me for playing rough
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And apparently we don't cry, or didn't you know that?
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text; un: dante
why are crabs so bad at sharing?
because they're all shellfish π
un: xBlackKnightx
What's a pirate's favorite letter?
Youd think it was "r" but actually his heart belongs to the "c"
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that's terrible
boo
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just wanted to let you know i'm going to kick your old man's ass.
thought i'd give you a heads up. π
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why??
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i'm bored and he's right there.
just giving you the heads up so you don't think it's anything serious.
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dude you can't fuckin lead with a line like that!! You could just say "Im gonna spar with Vergil today" or whatever and not make it sound like something happened!!
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( Kids. )
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ANYWAY thanks for the heads up. you guys have fun
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Does he even have a relic actually???
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don't know if he got it back or not.
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I'll try and find it for him. If nothing else itd be nice to get ahold of him easily
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good luck with that.
pretty sure he'd rather a carrier pigeon for contact than these things.
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Let me give it a shot. I bet I can convince him
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you're his kid and he's making an effort.
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You don't have to worry so much about us you know. We're doin fine so far
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Anyway never mind that. Go have fun beating up my old man
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[There is no note about where any of this came from, Vergil having deemed it unnecessary, but there is a note nearby to everything written in Vergil's hand that suggests whoever ends up home first, may want to sort out dinner independently. (There is a specific line of the note dedicated to Dante alone that there are still a few leftovers in the fridge that need eating before he even so much as thinks of ordering pizza, and no, strawberry sundae does not count as a meal.) Otherwise, if they are willing to wait, Vergil promises he will not return empty-handed. He is in Wintermute for the afternoon and better part of the evening. So, while he may not return at the exact time for the meal, he will still bring something home with him.]
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The same reason he's been reading Vergil's poetry.The box puzzles him though. The rose doesn't tip him off, and he's completely shocked when he opens the lid. For a moment he can't believe she's real. But when he lifts the revolver, the heft, the gleam of the barrel, the way the action and the chamber feel, and the little engraved rose on the handle make it unmistakable. It's his precious Blue Rose, and even two little boxes of ammo for her. Somehow.
Well. Not "somehow." It doesn't take a detective to figure out that Vergil did this. He found Nero's gun... or more likely, summoned it as he did the Yamato. The difficulty of this given the way Spoons are earned here is not lost on him-- nor is the fact that Vergil sneers at the use of firearms, and would have no other reason to do this beyond the fact that it would mean a lot to Nero.
Yeah. He tears up a little bit. Stares back and forth from the engraved box to Vergil's bookshelves. How do you make something like this up to a guy like that? If confronted all he'll do is brush it off and say something like, "it would behoove you to be at your best and most familiar level of armament in case of a combat situation... blah blah blah" or "I do not accept your gratitude, it is the least I can do, I am your father and it is in my paternal obligation, blah blah blah..."
Fuck. He's gonna have to think about this. Apart from the obvious gratitude, this is going to take a bit of planning... and maybe a bit of learning how Spoons work.
Though when Vergil does appear later that night, Nero is still awake. There's some loud, raucous cheering and hubbub coming from his relic, propped up on the table, and he's hard at work cleaning and tuning up his gun. There's an open beer bottle on the table and he is halfway through eating a monster grilled cheese sandwich on a plate, with a side of potato chips and yellow mustard slathered all over them.]
...looks at html
[Vergil sets down a bag and drink tray before peeling off his coat and hanging it up. It has not had nearly enough time to dry just yet from his time out sparring with Mizu, as the rest of his clothes have not. Yamato is left near to where his jacket hangs before Vergil picks up the bag and drink tray. Crossing the apartment and pulling out the chair opposite to Nero, Vergil sets the bag in the seat rather than on the table. Instead, he uses the remaining free space on the table from Nero's things to place the drink tray. Nero may spot the pawprint on the center of the bag or on the cups that speaks to the origins of the food from the dog-run food cart in Wintermute.]
Dante isn't home yet? [he asks, gently twisting one cup to look at its stickers for labels, and then another before putting pulling it from the tray. He sets it down near Nero's plate and drink for easy access. Vergil has brought fresh hot chocolate for each of them. The one specifically brought for Nero is additionally spiced with cinnamon and chili pepper. Vergil's question is less seeking confirmation that Dante isn't here, and more whether or not Nero knows where his wayward uncle has wandered off to this time.]
[He pulls free his own hot chocolate, setting it on the table.]
SHHH
He's busy pushing a cleaning cloth through Blue Rose's chambers, one by one, so he doesn't look up again until the hot chocolate lands beside his plate. Then he smiles more broadly, and makes a motion indicating Vergil should sit at the table, if he wasn't already planning to.
The relic is playing a wrestling video. A man has thrown another man headfirst into a metal garbage can and is now stomping on it, to the screaming delight of the crowd.]
Nope. Haven't seen him. Probably off at a club somewhere making passes at girls. [Or eating pizza, but that goes without saying.]
Thank you for my gun. That was a great surprise.
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Think nothing of it. [He picks up the bag and heads over to the kitchen proper with the remaining hot chocolate. That seems to be all Vergil will say on the matter of the gun being returned as he says,] There's curry and rice in here for you and your uncle.
[Vergil doesn't bother with indicating a time for them to eat it. For all he knows, they'll get hungry in the middle of the night and chow down on it, opt to save it for breakfast, or make a lunch out of it. Either way, he knows it won't go to waste. Vergil opens the fridge and crouches down to place the remaining containers inside. He pulls the last hot chocolate from the fridge, frowning at it a little before also placing it in the fridge. He doesn't say anything, but he's a little disappointed Dante isn't home to enjoy it fresh, but he supposes it will reheat well enough. Vergil stands back up, closing the fridge door with a foot as he puts the drink tray inside the bag. Both end up in the trash.]
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That's fine with him. Actions speak louder than words, after all... and he's had all evening to himself to think about what actions he could speak with here.]
Oh, nice! Curry's awesome. Place up in Wintermute?
[Having filled up on grilled cheese and chips, he will be saving that curry for later... maybe tomorrow. They say it tastes better the next day anyway. Kyrie's curry goes from "delicious" the night of to "fuckin' sublime" as leftovers.
He will be drinking that hot chocolate now, though. Taking a moment to enjoy the scent, he perks up at cinnamon and chili pepper. Then he very gingerly tests a tiny drop to make sure he doesn't burn the shit out of his tongue on that lid. Done that more than a few times before.]
Have a good night? You look only mildly soggy.
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[Normally, Vergil would not opt to remain in his slightly damp clothes, but he is hungry enough to postpone the shower and change of clothes until after he's had a chance to eat. He opens the first container, one that is slightly smaller than the other two and places it where Nero can reach if he's interested. Lamb dumplings encircle a dipping sauce that Vergil also removes the lid.]
[For a brief moment, Vergil thinks to leave it there. He answered the question and the specifics really don't matter. But then as he's removing the lids to his rice and curry, he wonders if perhaps that was Nero attempting to invite him into conversation. Tentatively, he fleshes out his answer a little bit more.]
I was sparring with Mizu. So, it was actually worse a little while ago. [Even with Vergil holding back to the extent that he does, Mizu and Vergil's sparring sessions are still intense, and snow ends up everywhere. Which is really no trouble during their duels, but afterward... Well, Vergil doesn't need to fish for excuses to linger about after they spar and she has recovered now, but the lack of dry clothes does have a tendency to shorten their time together a bit. He will have to remember to bring a change of clothes for next time. He spoons out some of the rice onto his plate.] I was able to dry off some while he was recovering before returning home.
[...And while they spent some time together. Soaked clothes shortened their time, but didn't prevent it. Not entirely. Vergil, however, leaves that detail of it out, glancing at Nero. It occurs to him that now could possibly be a time to clarify his relationship with Mizu. Nero and he talked through some of the more challenging elephants in the room that it doesn't necessarily feel quite as low of a priority as it had before, and while the boy didn't exactly have a right to know, he may appreciate knowing some piece of Vergil's life without having to ask for it. But... Vergil decides to leave it be for now. It doesn't feel yet like the right time to mention it.]
Have you been at that all evening? [he asks instead, nodding to Blue Rose.]
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He nods at the mention of sparring Mizu. Somehow that doesn't surprise him. He can't think of any other reason, really, for Vergil to go standing around in the snow. It's probably nice and quiet there, but even an introvert like Vergil has to have his limits as far as the weather goes. Nero off-handedly wonders how many times Mizu and Vergil stabbed one another. Or attempted to, anyway.
He'd kind of like to watch sometime. Though it feels a little hypocritical given his feelings on the other way around...
As Vergil settles in, he tilts Blue Rose to show him exactly what he's doing.]
Yeah. Didn't get the chance to clean her up with everything that happened... poor thing had blood and gunk all over her insides. [A gesture at his cleaning cloth pile.] Got her nice and clean now though. If anything needs shooting, she's ready.
Not holding my breath, but she's ready to go.
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[Internally, Vergil winces at the words that leave his mouth. The last time he offered overt praise, Nero rolled his eyes and unequivocally rejected it. Vergil could not particularly understood why Nero seemed to take such offense to it beyond perhaps its coupling with a joke that was not particularly well-received was the cause of it even with more time to think upon it. Still, even in the absence of such a joke, Vergil cannot help but abruptly avert his gaze to his plate rather than on Nero to see his reaction. He's been exceptionally careful not to comment on what Nero does since then to avoid the previous misstep, and here he's gone and thoughtlessly made a comment. He pushes past it as quickly as he can in an attempt to sidestep anything his words might have kicked up.]
I'm sorry I could not secure more ammunition for you right away. I know it would likely feel better to put her to some use sooner rather than later.
[Vergil imagines this is the longest Nero has gone without Blue Rose since he's had the gun. So, Vergil assumes Nero would be satisfied with just messing around with the gun in some light target practice to reconnect with the weapon and test that everything truly is in working order in the absence of getting real use out of Blue Rose right away.]
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[Nero is completely oblivious to Vergil's stresses about praising him. The last time when he did roll his eyes at Vergil, it was because at the time he found it patronizing and a little silly a thing to praise him for. He has, however, completely forgotten that exchange ever happened.
He shows absolutely no sign of being even slightly flustered or put-off.]
That's all right. I'm sure she was expensive. And I'm hoping I can work past the need for ammo anyway... or at least practice. [He glances up.] You've seen what Dante does with Ebony and Ivory, right? Or what you do with the... [He is not really sure what Vergil calls them, but he pantomimes the sharp, flying blades of energy that he conjures.]
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Mirage blades, [Vergil supplies, helpfully.] Although my blades are not the same as his bullets.
[Some of that is out of distaste for firearms that Vergil cannot allow the comparison to be without any challenge. That certainly cannot be ignored. But Vergil's mirage blades serve as more than just mere ranged attacks as Dante's bullets often serve for him. Although to that end, with Dante's (unnecessary) advice about not being too hard on Nero and their shared hesitation in engaging too much on the matter of fighting with one another just yet, Vergil tentatively offers a bit of advice.]
...It took me some practice to summon more than one blade at a time. And I'm sure the same was true for Dante and his bullets. It may be of some benefit to see if he will allow you to practice with Ebony or Ivory to start before trying it with Blue Rose.
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Vergil offers a tip though, and Nero thinks on it for a moment.]
I can do something... similar. Throw a little extra punch into every bullet. I imagine it won't be all that different to do it from scratch, without the bullets.
[Which leads him to circle back around to that other question again...]
How is it different than Dante's bullets? Could you show me how to do it sometime?
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You might think of Dante's bullets as a more...rudimentary version of my blades. His bullets pierce and damage, but I am able to do more than just that with my blades.
[It feels the best way Vergil can put it without outright calling Dante out for not developing his demonic abilities as far as he most likely could if he willed it. Not that his bullets could possibly do everything Vergil uses his blades for given there's no real good way for a bullet to serve as a defensive option. But just as Vergil is able to pin and more successfully launch his targets at will, Dante could likely do the same if he put his mind to it.]
[As to the second question...]
Whatever you wish to learn, I am willing to guide you in learning.
[Vergil hopes Nero understands his meaning beyond mere agreeableness to serve as a teacher. He doesn't anticipate that Nero will adopt many of Vergil's techniques. Vergil is more based in precision and speed in his technique rather than packing a powerful punch as Dante often does. If he had to guess from his small sampling of Nero's style, he's going to inherently lean more towards his uncle's way of doing things than Vergil. But if Vergil's techniques can be applied in a way that works for Nero, he's more than happy to contribute to his learning.]
[When Nero feels ready to learn, of course. Although, Vergil leaves that part unspoken to avoid making Nero feel pushed in any direction.]
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It's not that anybody is worse than anybody else. They just fight differently. Vergil's precision and expertise. Dante's rapid-fire flash and pizzaz. And Nero's... one big bang after another. Sounds about right.]
Well, let's go out and try it sometime. I'm sure I can do it. Channeling my energy was like the third thing I ever learned how to do with it.
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Start with your bullets with Dante first. Once you come to possess some mastery over that, we can talk. You will have a better sense of both what comes naturally to you and your current limits by then.
[Which, in turn, will provide them with the opportunity to figure out which of those limits can be circumvented or pushed past, and which Nero will simply need to accept and strategize around. To that end, there is a slight hesitation before Vergil adds,]
...I would like to see if we can expand upon your endurance. You possess a great amount of strength, but it concerns me that you run the risk of burning yourself out quickly. [And under certain circumstances that could spell disaster for Nero. A big attack is only as effective if it is both able to eliminate the opposition and leave Nero still standing.] If you are to push beyond what you can currently do, you will need that greater endurance to accomplish it the way I anticipate you will want to do it.
[Vergil tries to frame it in the most direct, matter-of-fact manner that he can to avoid making it seem a criticism of Nero's style or way of doing things. If anything, Vergil intends for it to be the opposite, and more a recognition that what he wants to accomplish is going to require a lot of him and likely push him harder than he's ever been thus far. And he knows Nero possesses the will to wield his strength as effectively as he can. There is no doubt in that. But developing that endurance... It's easily the hardest thing to develop. Both Sparda twins have struggled with it in their own journeys to master their demonic abilities even if there's a degree to which both of them (yes, even Dante) now make it look effortless.]
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Yeah, yeah... Dante told him not to compare himself to him and Vergil. He's younger, less experienced, and a whole fraction less powerful to boot. But it's awfully hard not to feel hopelessly outclassed no matter what he tries.
He can't really argue about the endurance though. His expression might be a bit sour but he does try not to sound too prickly in his response.] Yeah. I know. Physically, I'm fine, but I can't Devil Trigger more than a minute.
Dunno what to do besides just... do it, really.
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That is the most direct way, yes. But the more you develop your repertoire, you will have more ways to push yourself than just maintaining that form.
[Learning to manifest more than one blade at a time will help his endurance just as much as maintaining his devil trigger will, and will likely be of more interest to him anyway given that invites a bit more thought.]
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[He takes up his cup and has a sip of his hot chocolate. Then a second, when he tastes something not-chocolate in there. Is that... spice? Both in that it's a spice and it's spicy? Hmm... need to try a little more before he can put his finger on it.]
Shit. It's been like hitting puberty all over again.
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Regardless of how much aggravation you feel at the prospect of training like that, it will be worth it in the end.
[And a better way to learn than either Sparda twin learned even if Nero is justified in complaints of tedium with the method. In all honesty, Vergil finds himself a little envious of Nero even if he's unwilling to say as much out loud. While Vergil would never diminish his own accomplishments by implying it ultimately inferior, it would have been better to have Sparda guiding him in mastering his abilities rather than being left to figure it out on his own and through necessity. That was simple objective fact as far as Vergil was concerned, and not just mere speculation.]
But you had best think twice before attempting to show me up if you start outpacing me, child. I won't allow for that.
[He's teasing, of course. Not about the prospect that Nero could someday grow greater in strength and talent than his father before him, but the notion that Vergil would feel such immediate envy that he would feel the need to put Nero back in his place. Just as Dante and Vergil have arguably surpassed their father, it should only be natural that Nero ought to someday surpass Vergil as well. There may be a bit of a bruised pride and ego there still with as much as Vergil has sought the ability to dominate over all others with his power, of course, but it would be summarily eclipsed by the pride he would feel in Nero that it would not matter.]
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Sorry to say, old man, showing you up's gonna be my victory lap.
[So far, "old man" has been reserved for Dante in the sense that Nero frequently calls him old. Maybe it's a good sign that he's comfortable enough to try it out on Vergil... in the sense that Vergil is, in fact, his old man.
And also old.
He takes another sip of his cocoa, and with his other hand turns down the volume on his wrestling match. They've started pummeling each other with chairs now, and this indicates he actually wants to chat with Vergil.
Nero would ask how Vergil trained his powers back when he was young, except he gets the feeling he already knows the answer. And that he wouldn't get a straight one out of Vergil anyway.]
My powers always have been kind of fucky. Always been more or less how I could best make it work, rather than actually knowing how anything worked.
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[There's a thoughtful hum to Nero's brief albeit colorful means of describing coming into his powers.]
I suppose more awareness is one small benefit Dante and I both had in the brief time our father was with us. [Sparda never had the opportunity to teach his boys properly, but they were at least aware of their heritages and had more to go on than...whatever exactly happened to Nero.] How old were you when your powers began to emerge?
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I was always more athletic than the other kids. Ran faster. Way stronger, even more than the adults, especially when I joined the knights. But I didn't think anything was wrong until my arm happened.
[He absently reaches over to touch his now human-looking right forearm.]
I was 16.
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What happened exactly?
[Body parts suddenly becoming permanently demonic wasn't exactly part of Vergil's own experience, and he would hazard a guess the same was true for Dante. So, he cannot even begin to guess what would cause something like that in the first place.]
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I got hurt, saving Kyrie and some kids from a demon. Slashed my arm up pretty good. Then instead of healing the wound... changed. Turned weird colors, and started to spread until it overtook my whole arm. [He does not feel a particular need to describe the specifics of how it looks. Vergil's seen it.]
At first, I thought I got infected with something. Totally thought I was gonna die. Then I realized it was demonic. I just... felt it and knew.
[Which was, at the time, worse than thinking he was dying.]
I thought I was turning into a demon. I was really scared, and I knew the Order would freak out if they knew. So I pretended my arm was still hurt, wore a sling, and learned to fight one-handed.
[He was too frightened to tell even Credo or Kyrie. Especially Kyrie. And at the time he knew he wouldn't be able to hide it forever. Fortunately, his instincts back then had been correct; if Order freaks like Agnus had found out about his powers, at best he'd have been thrown in a cage and experimented on. At worse, plugged into the false Savior as a battery much, much sooner.]
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Given the circumstances, you did the best you likely could have. [Which is not some form of awkward praise from Vergil, so much as it's his observation of what Nero's shared with him about what happened when his demonic powers first manifested. Vergil finally reaches for his own hot chocolate and takes a sip. Unlike Nero's there's no spicy kick to Vergil's; it's a white chocolate with lavender instead.] I assume when you came to possess it, Yamato was able to awaken more of your power.
[It is, after all, what it did for Vergil. It would only make sense that the blade would do the same for Nero, especially if it was willing to submit to him as a temporary master in Vergil's absence.]
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It was broken. The Order had it in pieces in their lab, and their asshole chief alchemist was fucking around with it. When I went down there, his demons attacked me and... [He pauses a moment before he goes on.] I think I might have died? Or I at least came close.
Then Yamato saved me. Or my real power woke up. Maybe both? But the sword fixed itself and that's when I was able to use it.
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[There's the barest shift in Vergil's expression when Nero discloses his near-death experience. When he assumed that the Yamato must have done for Nero what it did for him, he did not think nor intend for it to be that similar... If anything, he would hope that was one thing they would not share out of all the possibilities. What sort of parent would he be if he were not to hope for as much? When he glances down toward his food, that shift in his expression remains, his quiet afterward now tinged by a sort of ache he does not entirely know how he would describe.]
We've that in common then, [he says, offering a mild explanation for his reaction, but otherwise choosing to let the matter rest. There is no need to dig into the specifics of his past now.]
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When he reveals that Yamato once saved him too, Nero makes a weak smile and glances away. He's certainly not going to ask for the specifics, there.]
Good ol' Yamato. [By reflex, he reaches over and sets a hand on Vergil's elbow as though to comfort him. So reflexive he isn't even aware he's doing it until he does, at which point he pauses and then slowly withdraws it once he... thinks it won't be awkward. Is he allowed to touch Vergil yet?] Dante said that's how he knew who I was. The way Yamato responded to me.
[Of course, Nero had not the slightest clue at the time. Not who Vergil was, not what Yamato was capable of, not even really why it was the catalyst to pull that phantom demon out of Nero's skin. First it was his arm. Then the voices in his dreams. Then that ghostly reflection that echoed Nero's true power, even if he wasn't strong enough to manifest it yet.]
At some point... I stopped being afraid. My arm was weird, but it never hurt and never felt wrong. And I realized everything my power could do, if I chose to embrace it. So I thought, maybe my arm was turning into what it was always meant to. I was always different from everyone else... and maybe I was supposed to be.
[He meets Vergil's eyes briefly, then glances back down at his hands wrapped around the cup of cocoa.]
Being part demon hasn't always been easy. But it's part of me. I stopped hiding my arm after the Savior shit. People can either take me as I am, or get bent.
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Good. [While not exactly timid or presenting as wilting, Vergil has a noticeable tendency to be quite careful in the words he chooses to use with Nero. Now, there is no such care taken insomuch it's clear that it is from his own convictions, from his very core that Vergil now speaks. It is something that he knows rather than something he's spent a great deal of time overthinking before attempting to voice. To that end, Nero may very well reject what Vergil has to say, and that is entirely his prerogative. But for Vergil? This remains firmly true for him.] Your demonic heritage is a gift that should be embraced, but it does not come without its price.
[For all that Dante likely believes that Vergil so blindly embraced demonic power and only relished in the strength it provided him, he did not entirely. After Eva's death, he spent his life hunted because he refused to conceal himself. While it was impossible for him to understand the full extent of what that meant he lost and what he ended up sacrificing in the name of that power until much later, he was not so ignorant that he didn't understand the connection between those that pursued him and his choice to not hide and embrace his father's legacy in the only ways he knew how. It was simply a hardship he was willing to accept.]
It is unlikely that the Order will be the last of those you find who would covet the power in your blood, but you will find there are also some who would doubt your strength because of the heart your mother gifted you with. [Demonic blood sullied by a human womb. Words that still to this day settle uncomfortable within his memories and yet he knows are unlikely to be the last ever spat about their mixed heritage.] But they only succeed in rending your strength from you when you surrender yourself to them. If you remain certain of yourselfβthe whole of yourselfβand you allow no one to lay claim to your power, you will always possess the strength to protect what matters most to you.
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His father is proud of him.
For once, he finds himself unwilling to divert his eyes and look away, even though he's keenly aware how brightly he's flushing, and how close he is to the verge of abrupt, impulsive tears. Tearing up, at least. He exhales shakily and wrests back control of his emotions, and knows exactly the sentiment behind them.]
That means a lot, coming from you.
[Merely human. Petulant mortal flesh. Cursed, the moment you were brought into this world. Even as they came in the midst of exhaustion and agony, Nero hasn't forgotten those scornful words, nor has he forgotten that they came from one (dark, unmitigatedly cruel, concentratedly wicked) side of his own father. To see him now, contained, humanized, balanced and proud of him...
When it becomes too much, he glances away, somewhere across the room. He unconsciously grazes his fingers over his chest (over the heart his mother gave him,) and quietly nods.]
That's all I ever wanted. The power to protect the people I care about. Kyrie, and... [One more very brief sideways glance at Vergil before he adds, almost shyly,] my family.
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You have that power. You always have. Even if you haven't always understood it or been able to access it, it's always been within you from the moment you were born.
[It is only a matter of learning to master it now, and that is something that will come with time and practice, all of which Nero is willing to take until he gets it right.]
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[He says it reflexively, then goes quiet for a moment. Then there's a loud, ugly snort, the distinctive sound of forcibly sniffling back tears. Another moment of quiet, tense with the possibility of another snort, but he manages to fight it off without one.
There's another moment as he debates saying what's on his mind. And finally, he glances back at Vergil for a moment.]
And thanks for... you've been trying really hard. I know it's been weird and difficult but I-
[He looks away, cracking the edges of a smile.] I see you. It means more to me than I can say. Thank you.
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[Well, they're admittedly part of that weird aspect of all of this. It has not been often and certainly not in a long, long time that Vergil's efforts have been met with positive acknowledgment never mind overt gratitude. He has to look away from Nero for a moment as well when Nero claims to see him. As much as Vergil knows so much of his circumstances were of his own making, he knows his self-imposed isolation was only truly tolerable because he did not allow for the possibility of an alternative. Without his mother, without his father, and without his brother, he carried himself as one who was always destined to be alone in the world, cutting off and burning every possible bridge others might try to form before it could even begin.]
[Except... Just once, he didn't. Even if he ultimately did not possess the courage or strength to stay back then, to allow himself that want of being understood and seen once more, he could not deny that just once, he let himself indulge in that feeling of being wanted and loved. The proof of it, after all, was seated with him at this very table now.]
[Vergil swallows thickly, tempering the swell of emotion in his chest for the moment.]
Even if based upon your own reasons, you had chosen to reject and refuse me as your father, there would be no greater fool than me if I were to abandon you again, Nero. [There would be no factor of ignorance that would have led to that outcome as it had in the past. And it never could have been through any fault of Nero's regardless of how gentle or harsh his rejection of Vergil would have been. It would have been purely Vergil's own shortcomings, a lack of strength and courage, that would lead him to make such a poor choice as that in those circumstances.] I am not here or doing any of this because of guilt or a drive to rectify the past, or out of a sense of paternal duty and obligation to my kin.
[He looks at Nero again.]
I am here because you are more important to me than you will likely ever understand.
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Honestly? He wouldn't have held it against Vergil if he did make an effort with Nero out of guilt, or duty, or obligation. Vergil could have stuck around because he wanted to borrow Red Queen and Nero would have agreed to it, at least initially. None of that really mattered when it all led to the same outcome: a father who existed in his life. A father who wanted him.
Hearing him say that...]
I can't explain it, you can't explain it... we're really sitting here grunting back and forth, huh?
[There's the other snort. And this time Nero is definitely crying, though it's in the form of a few tears spilling and his chest shaking, while he stays in control of his voice.]
You really are my dad.
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[You really are my dad.]
[There's never really been a distinction for Vergil. Father is just as much of a term of endearment as it is a sign of respect rather than a word to keep one's distance or signal a sense of detachment (or often resentment in Dante's case). But he knows Nero does not hold the same perspective. That much is obvious in how Vergil's name is often used to keep him at a safe distance while not denying him as a person. Father is a term that reflects fact and a position more than a person. Not to say that there is no emotion, no connection behind it whatsoever, but it's colder than just using Vergil's name instead. Dad, on the other hand... Even as a descriptor like this...? It's... Well, it's just...]
[It's for just a moment, but Vergil has forgotten how to breathe. Or perhaps he was too frightened to breathe because if he did, some illusion would shatter and he'd realize he misheard Nero after all, and it was merely wishful thinking in the end. But he breathes when he remembers it or perhaps the air in his lungs simply needs to move. Whatever the case may be, he breathes and nothing changes. Not in an unpleasant way, in any case. Not really. Even if stings a bit on that next breath, the air feeling sharper than it did a moment ago and he has to blink back uninvited emotion welling up in his eyes that he makes no direct acknowledgment of beyond looking away from Nero for a moment again.]
[Since learning of Nero's existence, Vergil hoped that Nero might make the allowance for him to be part of his life. However, beyond not casting him completely aside, Vergil didn't allow himself to envision what it might look like. Some of that was arguably due to a lack of imagination, but the real reason for it was the hope. Vergil could not allow for himself to hope because it would have been his ruin. Oh, if Nero could not have found it within himself to give Vergil the chance or to forgive him, it would have been awful. There is no scenario in which Vergil could find that ideal or anything less than terrible, but he could have lived with it. Provided that he did not allow himself hope, he could have done exactly as he said a moment ago and still refused to abandon Nero even while being kept at such a distance that the gulf between them is ultimately insurmountable.]
[He could not if he allowed himself to hope.]
[But he feels it now, and it's what took his breath away and brought unspent tears to his eyes as for the first time, a future feels all the more within his reach for the first time in... Well, he doesn't know exactly how long. But it's something he knows with every fiber in his being that he will do everything he can to fiercely protect it, no matter what it takes. Which feels so alien to Vergil as everything at once feels so large and overwhelming, and yet so quiet and simple all at once.]
[He doesn't know what to say, but it's not a loss of words that comes riddled with anxieties he's about to say the wrong thing that could spoil it all. No, it's a decidedly much better way to be rendered speechless. He draws another breath before he tries to speak, gathering enough of himself to borrow words in lieu of his own.]
I have no name. I am but two days old, [he recites, which Nero may very well recognize the lines from one of Vergil's books.] What shall I call thee? I happy am. Joy is my name. Sweet joy befall thee.
Pretty joy! Sweet joy but two days old. Sweet joy I call thee; thou dost smile. I sing the while sweet joy befall thee.
[He doesn't know if Nero will understand it. There's a good chance he won't given the times his nose wrinkled whenever V would recite lines of poetry. But it's close enough to an explanation and perhaps better than just grunting back and forth that he very well might.]
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A quick swipe at his eyes isn't enough to fully hide the tears, but it takes care of most of them. With another snort he's through the worst of it, and he can even vaguely look in Vergil's direction again. Seeing him struggling with his own emotions hurts, but in the good way. Like stretching a sore muscle to the point it finally relaxes.
Then, for lack of a better description, Vergil can't hold back anymore and bursts forth an explosion of poetry. Nero smirks the moment he recognizes it, thinking fondly of V and his inscrutable soliloquies. Only this time, he recognizes it from somewhere else.]
William Blake, right?
[He reaches over and clasps Vergil on the forearm, a gesture of affection that isn't too over-the-top and doesn't require Nero getting up from his chair. Mostly because if he somehow coerces a hug from Vergil right now he's gonna fucking cry hysterically.
And with it comes a profound statement of understanding and empathy. The only thing he can really think to say to something like that.]
Ditto.
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[He says nothing else beyond that, not feeling the need to, and leaves his hand there on Nero's arm for a moment or two longer before ultimately taking back his arm to gather up the empty takeout containers to dispose of them. He leaves the open container of dumplings still in the middle of the table for Nero, and his own unfinished hot chocolate. Vergil isn't particularly concerned about it getting cold as he won't likely be gone long enough for that.]
I should shower. And you... [he says, rising to his feet. Before he picks up his dishes as well to bring to the sink, he leans over far enough to gently ruffle Nero's hair. The gesture is equal parts affectionate and grateful.] You should finish with Blue Rose.
[Vergil may be far from an expert when it comes to firearms, but he knows Nero can't leave her half-cleaned like that.]
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He takes a moment to trace it in his mind: the way it feels when his father squeezes his arm. The way it looks when he smiles at him. He's entirely memorized it by the time Vergil lets go.]
Yeah. I'm almost done. Two chambers to go.
[Then Vergil ruffles his hair in the same manner Dante always does. Nero doesn't swat at him, though... not yet. Maybe in another few times when it'll come across more facetiously bratty than as a rejection. Maybe when Nero isn't so enamored by the novelty he doesn't want to at all.]
You gonna go to bed after that?
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[Vergil tosses the takeaway containers into the trashcan before rinsing his dishes off in the sink. He simply sets them in there for the time being rather than washing them for now. For as much grief as he receives over his fastidiousness, Vergil is occasionally capable of leaving behind a little mess. To deal with later, of course. But still. He's not about to lose sleep over an unwashed plate in the sink.]
I'll be up reading at least for a little while. See if your uncle decides to grace us with his presence tonight or not.
[That's not said as scathing or critical as Vergil might otherwise say it, but there is a weight to it all the same.]
[Vergil is often the last one to bed most nights. When he was in this apartment by himself, that pattern of staying up relatively late each night was just one he hadn't managed to give up just yet. For a long time, he's slept as much as he needed minimally, avoiding whatever nightmares may come to him and keeping certain he remained safe when there was no one else for him to rely upon in watching over him. But now? Now, Vergil knows there is some part of him that does not and cannot entirely relaxed until he knows Dante and Nero are at least settled in for the night when he's here. When he's with Mizu in her cabin, it's much the same with her. Even if they're not entirely asleep by the time he closes his eyes, it's enough to know whether it's Mizu or Dante and Nero that they're close by and they're within reach. They're safe.]
[So, despite the fact he hasn't grilled Dante about his whereabouts on the nights he doesn't come home, nor does he even really kick up a fuss that Dante doesn't seem to consistently inform anyone that he won't be home seeing as how he comes home the next morning no worse for wear, it still does not sit well with Vergil to have Dante out and his whereabouts generally unknown by the time Vergil knows he must sleep.]
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[That's "I'm going to sleep in your room tonight" in not as many words. Sure, he could take the pullout since Dante's not around, but he doesn't want to get jostled awake in the middle of the night by a returning Dante when he gets in. If he gets in.
Maybe he's out at one of those all night clubs or something? That'd make sense.
Also maybe he just wants to sleep next to HIS DAD tonight, so there!
Vergil's niggling discomfort over Dante being out does not escape his notice, though.]
I can send him a message if you want. [He will not go on to suggest that Dante's fine or he shouldn't worry or anything to even imply such a thing. Nor will he remind Vergil that HE could send Dante a message if he wasn't so goddamn stubborn and old.
He takes another sip of his cocoa, then resumes cleaning Blue Rose. Should only be another five or ten minutes before she's pristine.]
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That's not necessary, [he says on his way to the bathroom for his shower with a slight shake of his head.] Dante can take care of himself.
[...Vergil may be more convincing himself than Nero by saying that, but it's also not inherently untrue either. Both of them have been on their own for long enough that Vergil and Dante absolutely know how to look after themselves, and stay safe. There also just really isn't that much that could pose as a threat to either son of Sparda in Folkmore realistically speaking. So, there's probably nothing to really worry about, but... Well, he's just as intent on being the older brother that he always should have been to Dante as is to be a father to Nero, and Vergil simply does not believe in half-measures when it comes to anything. But he will at least avoid nagging his brother even through his son.]
[Disappearing into the bathroom for his shower, Vergil's glad to be out of his clothes more than anything else. They're mostly dry now, but it's never particularly comfortable remaining in clothes that were previously dampened or outright soaked by the snow. He's quick with his shower and readying for bed likely as Nero is finishing up with Blue Rose. Plucking one of his books from the shelf, Vergil returns to the table only long enough to pick up his hot remaining hot chocolate as a substitute for his nightly cup of tea before heading to bed. The hot chocolate ends up on the nightstand as he props his pillows against the headboard to comfortably sit up in bed and read. Since Nero intends to turn in, he turns on the light on the nightstand so the rest of the apartment can be darkened and Vergil's reading is less likely to bother Nero while he sleeps.]
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But hey, whatever. Nero will just message Dante of his own volition.
Vergil heads off to shower and Nero finishes up his cleaning, then neatly puts Blue Rose back together and stores her in her case. He packs up his cleaning supplies and turns off the relic, then heads into the kitchen to wash those dishes in the sink. By the time he's done, Vergil's out of the bathroom and he can head in himself.
He heads into the bedroom, teeth brushed, dressed down in a tank and boxers, and says nothing as he slips into bed on the other side of Vergil. Only then does he muster his courage and get out what he's been thinking ever since Vergil headed off.]
G'night. Dad.
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[He avoids staring at the boy, turning his gaze back to his book, but without any ability to read even if that were his intention. He merely stares at the pages before him, drawing a shaky breath as his vision blurs. Before Vergil can catch it, there's a soft plop against one of the pages, wetting one of the corners.]
[If he were asked, there is absolutely no way Vergil could possibly articulate the swell of emotion he feels in his chest. The moment he knew Nero was his son, that was simply it. He loved Nero beyond words, beyond anything or anyone he's ever loved before. There was no real choice in the matter, Vergil thinks. Each day that he's gotten to know him better has only solidified and strengthened those feelings even further. Vergil lives less and less solely for himself, and it feels that his continued survival through everything that has happened to him, that he has brought upon himself, takes on a greater meaning and purpose. It was all in service of this. But he knows it's not that simple for Nero. He's grown up without a mother or a father. He's found family in his own way, and he doesn't really need Vergil. But it's been his choice to give Vergil a chance. It's been his choice to forgive him for his wrongdoings and his shortcomings. It's been his choice to accept him as his father, as his...dad.]
[He'd have to be an idiot not to recognize how much of a gift that is.]
[He swipes at his eyes with the back of one of his hands before wiping away some of the moisture from the page to avoid it wrinkling later. If there's a little sniffle, he'd deny its obvious existence. It's clearly just a sound from him adjusting his hold on his book again so he can reach over to Nero with the hand closest to him to run his fingers through his hair ever so gently just the once. Quietly, he says,]
Goodnight, Nero.
π οΈ
Hey, kid. Got somethin' for ya.
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Oh boy! A box! [Smartass.]
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Shake of his head though, boots scuff against the flooring as he makes his way over, jiggling the box a little to let Nero hear there's things inside it and no, it's not just a cardboard box, thanks. )
Wait 'til you see what's inside.
( To which he sets the box down near the kid and shows off the bits and pieces of scrap metal inside. )
Ta-da!
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Oh, hell yeah. Where'd you get all that?
[He pulls out a small piece of aluminum flashing to examine.]
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Here and there. Thought you could use it for ( as he waves about with a hand ) whatever you do in here.
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[He smiles and picks up the box to set it on a stool, the easier to go through it.] Thank you. I can get into all kinds of trouble with all this.
[As he digs, he gestures with his head.] You wanna grab a beer and join me? I was just taking this engine apart.
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Sure. I don't have anything else planned for the moment.
( What with having just got in and all. Nod of his head, he throws a smile to the kid. )
Be right back.
( To which he wanders out of the garage to grab himself a beer from the fridge. Lucky for him, he never really has to worry about Vergil touching his stash. Sure, he probably eyes it when he opens the fridge and has some sort of thought about it, but. Whatever. If he really wanted one, he wouldn't get mad about it. Just they always end up being for him, so.
Twisting the cap off, he makes his way back in, indulging in a sip as he does. )
So this is what you do in your spare time around here, huh? Just like home.
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Nero's got a beer of his own on standby off to the side, but he ignores it for the moment in favor of digging through the box. Some good pieces in here... things with screws and bolts and other things he can reuse. Might try his hand at melting some of it down, too, even if he has to makeshift the equipment to do so.
As Dante returns, he reaches for his own open beer bottle and tilts it at him as though to toast.]
Keeps me off the streets.
Without Nico I'm at a bit of a disadvantage, and I don't have any real projects in mind yet... though if I get this engine going maybe we can strap it to something, huh?
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( You know, the one he sent the sign to the kid for. Well... that Morrison delivered for him. Beer in hand, he wanders his way around the garage some, looking at things here and there. He doesn't often come in here what with his not really having a need to. Also, seems more like Nero's spot than his or Vergil's. Something the twins are both fine with really. )
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[He shakes his head.]
Thought about getting something smaller, though. Maybe a bike...
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A bike works. I could see about askin' for a devil arm if you really want.
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[Ooh, he hadn't considered that...]
Hm. You think they're hard to fix? Half the fun is making them work and tuning them up.
[A beat.]
I mean. You don't have to spend your spoons on me, if you want one of your devil arms back.
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I got enough of 'em. Also make a lot of 'em, too.
( To which he fingerguns the kid with his free hand not holding his beer currently. )
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[He's a big fan of the nunchaku actually... though Nero's quite certain he'd just nail himself in the face if he tried to wield them. Wild and crazy weaponry is really more Dante's thing.]
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( Reaching over, he baps Nero on the head with a closed fist. Playful, but. Still a bap. )
But I also do have a lot of those devil arms back home. ( He hums. ) Could always consider askin' the fox for one of 'em sometime maybe.
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[He attempts to look cool again by recovering his beer, leaning back against the bench and folding his arms.]
We still need to get your sword back too. It's just not you without a big ol' blade on your back. [There's a pause as he thinks, and then remembers-]
Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you, I got my gun back.
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The mention of his gun, however, gets him to lift his brows in curiosity. )
Did you? And you weren't even going to tell me, huh?
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[Nero briefly trips over his own words, but only briefly. The less of a big deal he makes of this, the better.]
Dad got it for me. [Rushingpastthatnowlalalalala-] I wanted to know if you could teach me to make bullets. Like you do with the girls.
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Dad did, huh?
( Chuckling around his beer, he shakes his head and takes a swig. Well. That was bound to happen at some point. Or at least he figured it would with their time spent together. That's nice. About time and all. Means Nero's feeling more comfortable around his old man if he's just dropping dad like that. )
Teach you how to make bullets. ( Licking over his lips, he tilts his head some. ) Your words or his?
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Yeah, Dad did. [WHAT THE FUCK ABOUT IT, HUH DANTE?!
Defensive bashful aggression aside, he stays on the subject.] My words. You know, how you never actually have to reload? And you don't carry ammo? I want to know if you can teach me to do that, too.
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Well aren't you just a cute little bug.
( Hand patting Nero's chest then, he pulls away and sighs, turning on his heel to face the kid. )
It's manipulating my demonic power. ( A beat. ) That's how I don't ever run out. Your old man summons ghostly little blades, I summon bullets.
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]
Yeah, I know. And I can charge-up my bullets, I do it all the time but... I think it'd be handy if I could summon 'em too.
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( Joking, he finishes off the rest of his beer, licks his lips, then sets the empty bottle down nearby, pressing the tip of a finger to the mouth of it, rocking it back and forth gently. )
I can try, if you want. I'm not the best at explaining how to do it though. It's just... a feeling.
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[Nero shrugs at his hedging.]
That's cool, I'm not the best at understanding that stuff. Feeling it out is what I do.
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Still, bullets and guns are absolutely not his brothers area of expertise, so. Throwing a smile over the kidβs way, he nods. )
Sure. Whenever youβre up for some uncle and nephew time, Iβll see what I can do.
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And he's pretty sure they'd both deny it until they turned blue in the face.]
Cool! Blue Rose doesn't fire as fast as yours, obviously, so it's only two bullets at a time... but it'd be sweet if I could get them to punch as hard as the real thing.
[He goes back to digging through the box, pulling out a few choice pieces of scrap.] I think I'm gonna be pretty good at it, actually... like I've already had some practice.
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( Chuckle soft, he shakes his head as he wanders around the garage, hands behind his back, looking at this and that and what the kid's done with it for himself here. )
Might be a little difficult trying to do two at once to start but hey, we can see what works when it's time for Uncle Dante's School of Shooting classes.
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[He glances over his shoulder and smirks at Dante, rather confident.]
Not that I'm anywhere near your level, O Sensei. Do you take payment in food?
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Always.
( As if he'd ever turn down free food. )
So does this mean you're callin' your old man dad from now on? How'd he take it?
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The more you try to dodge this shit with Dante, the more he zeroes in on it... though Nero's tone makes no mistake that he's a little touchy about talking about this.
Which probably won't discourage him.]
I'm trying it on. What about it? [He has to think about how to answer that.] He took it fine. Ask him, if you're nosy.
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( Hands still behind his back there, he keeps on and moseys his way around the garage, amused little hum there in the back of his throat as he does. )
Guess that means you're getting along. That's good. I'm happy for you, kiddo.
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[The fact Dante doesn't go in teasing gets him off his guard, and he relaxes a little as he tries to figure out how to respond to that.]
Thanks. I haven't done all that much. He's been trying really hard. And Father really isn't my style, so.
[A shrug, and perhaps an obvious refusal to look Dante in the eye.]
Pretty hard to bounce back from THAT reunion but. You know. [Is it too soon to say Vergil did. At least, so far so good.]
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( He shrugs β throws a look of sympathy wrapped up in a lazy smile over to his nephew there. )
Be sure to make the most of it. Even if it's awkward as Hell. You've got each other now. Don't let go of that.
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[He gives Dante a glance and a small, muted smirk.]
All of my family. [YOU TOO, DICKHEAD!!]
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He puts on a faux-sickly-sweet voice.]
That's right, Unky Dante. I just wuv you soooo much! You're the best uncle ever!
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Laughing at such a display β even slaps at his knee β he reaches inside his coat and pulls out his relic, beginning to fiddle with it as he holds it up and points it at Nero. )
Ok, say that again for the camera this time.
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Well, TWO can play at this game. He turns around and faces the relic, hand on his hip.]
You got it rollin' there, pops? Or you need my help getting it to work?
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Now tell your dad you love him and make one of those cutesy faces with a peace sign.
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My Uncle Dante's the biggest fucking dumbass on this or any other planet, but he's still the best uncle ever and I love him, the stupid moron.
[No director will tell him what his lines are!!!]
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Perfect. I'll show your old man this and we'll use this as our Christmas greeting.
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[Is he still filming?? Nero doesn't even consider it.]
At least you both make up for it in other ways.
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Pulling his relic down, he goes to close it up but catches something on there that makes him smile for a moment before he's putting it back inside his coat to be forgotten about until he feels like using it. Or someone messages him. )
He's good with a knife in the kitchen and I'm the life of the party.
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You're such good dressers. And you both have those soft, gooey hearts inside, too.
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You been readin' those romance novels Kyrie has?
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[Really, him reading ANY books is pretty impressive, if you ask him. Nero's really more of a comic books and video games and TV kind of guy.]
Some of those poetry books too. Just to see what it's like.
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( Sorry, bro. It is what it is and he said what he said about your choice of reading. Not that he didn't stop himself from reading all those books over the years Vergil was dead, but. You know. Still not his first choice of something to read. )
But hey, that's ok. Your old man likes what he likes and there's nothing wrong with that.
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[Watch him squint his way through one of them sometime for proof enough of that.]
And yeah. He likes those. You like titty mags... if it makes you happy, then who cares?
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( A nod of his head, he hums to himself and looks around the garage again. )
Well. Hope that box can be useful for you. Again, I don't really know what you'd do with it, but. Figured you could find something to do with it.
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[A smirk over his shoulder in Dante's direction.]
Thanks. I'll show you what I make with it. And I take requests, too, if you ever need something made for whatever reason.
[Oh, which reminds him!]
Hey, speaking of, I made some curry earlier. Should be chillin' in the fridge if you want some. Rice, too.
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( A glance over his shoulder, he chuckles some then. )
Maybe I'll have a bite later.
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[One more gesture to the box.] Thanks again, Dante. You're the best.
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You're a suck up.
( To which he waves him off. )
Enjoy then.
πΌοΈ
π
[The package with a blue ribbon contains a framed photo of a much younger Vergil. There isn't much to make out from the background behind that he's clearly outside, and seated beneath a tree. His expression isn't nearly as stern or serious as Nero is likely accustomed to by now. There's no frown on his lips or furrow in his brow. Instead, there seems to be a faint smile on his expression even if there's a small degree of uncertainty. Why he's smiling at all is because Vergil is not alone in the photograph. Besides him, or more accurately leaning firmly into his personal space as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do, is a young woman with long auburn hair. Her honey brown eyes are bright with a playful look to them, lips curved and parted in a giggle now frozen in time in the photograph she took of the two of them. She looks at the camera while Vergil looks at her. Nero won't necessarily recognize her despite the faint traces of her features in his own countenance, but he'll recognize her garb as being that of the Order's even with the hood pulled down. With enough of those context clues, it should become apparent: it's a picture of his father and his mother.]
[And it's not the only photograph of her Nero receives this Christmas. The thinner of the packages, the one with red ribbon, contains a small photobook where Vergil has arranged more photos of her. There's no particular order to them. Some of them, she's clearly aware they're being taken. She poses in silly or dramatic poses and expressions, playfully sticking her tongue in some of them. Others, she clearly takes a little more seriously, particularly if it's a group photo or it's very clearly involving a service. A few are candid shots though, buried in a book and paying absolutely no mind to whoever is snapping the photo or simply going about her day. There are even a couple more with Vergil, vaguely awkward about having his picture taken or perhaps perplexed by Beatrice's attention, but so clearly enamored with her even if he's trying to hide it.]
[There aren't many photographs on the whole, and it's only a small, small segment of her life that they come from. But Vergil hopes that beyond giving Nero an image of her they are enough to show him by more than just Vergil's words alone how spirited and vivacious she had been.]
text; un: dante
you got a second?
un: xBlackKnightx
[He's trying that on, too...]
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wanna help me out?
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what??
how????
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put hand in jar
hand gets stuck in jar
seek help???
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how are you typing all this???
[Okay okay, but... the important thing is, Dante actually asked him for help!!!]
Hold tight I'll be home in a few, don't smash the glass or anything stupid OK
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but sweet
bring another jar of pickles pls π€€
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what kind of pickles
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but i sure came with fingers
dill
don't do me dirty with bread and butter
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Have you already tried letting go of the pickles?? just curious
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( a little bit of "..." going for a bit )
nope
still stuck
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OK don't worry be home soon
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[He may be stupid BOTTOM TEXT. (It runs in the family.)]
Don't starve in the meantime
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Dante, I'm back. [He sets the sack on the counter.] Didn't get your other hand stuck too, did you?
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He rounds the corner to make his way into the kitchen and, like he'd said, his hand is there in the pickle jar, covered in pickle juice and seasonings. Yum. A tip of his head back, he waves with the hand stuck in the jar and raises a brow. )
What took ya so long? Did you remember the pickles?
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He gives the pickle jar a quick, withering look before he retorts.] Buying your damn pickles took me so long. First store was out of dills completely.
[He pulls a bottle of olive oil out of the sack and gestures for Dante to come over.] Come here, let's get your hand out... [Said with the true, knowing patience of a man who has small children living at his apartment back home.]
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( Playful shrug, he moseys his way on over and, rather loudly, taps his jarred hand down on the counter, his free hand on his hip, smiling to the kid. )
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[Nero takes a cursory glance at the situation.] How does a grown-ass man get his hand stuck in a pickle jar? Should've got you tongs for Christmas.
[Yep... it's really on there. Might even be a vacuum problem at this point. To start with, he'll lube up what parts of Dante's hand he can with the olive oil.]
Too embarrassed to ask Dad for help, huh?
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( Vergil's a nerd but he's not that kind of nerd. )
I figured you'd respond quicker than me shouting across the skies in hopes he might catch my voice on the wind somewhere.
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[He grips the jar and holds it down to the counter.] Can you wiggle at all?
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( To which he wiggles his body, damn well knowing that's not what the kid meant. )
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[For that, he flicks Dante in the side of the head.]
Your hand, dumbass!
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( Spoiler: it didn't actually hurt. But sure, ok. He wiggles his hand around a little in the jar, stirring up the juice and seasonings floating around. )
My fingers are probably lookin' like raisins by now.
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[Right. Clearly, this is a vacuum problem.] Okay. Plan B. One sec.
[He heads for the silverware drawer and digs until he finds a butter knife, nice and dull. Then he returns to grab Dante by the wrist, stilling his hand so he can slide the knife in alongside his hand.]
Hold still.
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( He knows he's not, he's just being his usual self when... in a pickle. )
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[It's actually to break any vacuum seal by pushing some air between Dante's hand and the side of the jar, which ought to at least loosen it up a bit.]
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( That's when he starts to lean away, cringing and whining and waving his other hand around. )
Look out for the blood!
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[He reaches up and flicks him in the head again.] Quit dicking around and pull your hand out.
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( A few little twists here and there and his hand still remains in the pickle juice. )
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[Now he grabs Dante by the wrist and tugs him over to the sink, turning on the cold water to run it over his wrist and the jar.]
You still can't budge it at all?
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( But there he goes, following the kid along, dragging his feet some as he does. )
Why don't I just smash it on the edge of the counter and call it a day?
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[When the cold water still doesn't work, Nero finally huffs and lets go.]
Okay, fuck it. Put your hand out over here.
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What are you gonna do?
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[He holds Dante's hand over the sink, then with a flash of blue one wing appears on his shoulders. The claws reach out and fasten over the jar with a strong, solid grip. It takes a moment for him to get the pressure and positioning he needs, but then with a little twitch of his lip, he clamps down.
The sharp claws shatter the jar into two clean pieces, which come apart in a gush of pickle juice like an expertly-cracked eggshell. The pickles fall into the sink as he pulls away the glass.]
Ta-daaa...
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Bracing for the worst, he blinks in mild surprise when his hand isn't filled with shards of glass and blood. Sure, he's had much worse before and yeah, he'll heal, but. Doesn't mean he enjoys it. So, with hand free, he wiggles his fingers, giving a curious little hum then before he smiles over to the kid. )
Wow. Thanks, kid.
( To which he claps his pickle soaked hand down on Nero's shoulder there... then ruffles his hair with that same pickle juice hand. )
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Easy. Should've started with that, huh?
[And he's so enamored by the praise and Dante patting him on the shoulder, he doesn't notice until he smells the vinegar and dill that he's getting pickle juice rubbed in his hair.]
Hey!! I don't want to smell like pickles too!
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( Said as he ruffles the kid's hair even harder β pats his cheek with some pickle juice fingers, too! )
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God, you're such a child!
[Once he wrestles away from Dante's pickle-grip he retracts his wing, then returns to the sack on the counter.]
Here's your other pickles. Maybe I ought to pour them out in a bowl for you this time?
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( Said in a sing-song voice as he makes his way over to there to take his new jar of pickles, pops the jar open with eyes bright, and sticks his hand on in for one. )
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[And then Dante goes to stick his hand right back in.]
Ah ah ah ah ah! [He swats Dante's hand to discourage him.] Get a fork, dumbass!
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So, hey. Can I ask ya something?
( You know. All casual as he leans there on the counter and helps himself to a pickle via fork. )
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But it's brief, as he grabs a wet paper towel to wipe some of the pickle brine out of his hair.]
Yeah, always? What's up?
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You think your old man would like Kyrie?
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Who wouldn't like Kyrie?
[The answer is instant and reflexive. Thankfully Nero does not wander down the usual garden path of righteous white knight rage to defend his beautiful, amazing girlfriend to any who would dare besmirch her name.
Because that's probably not really what Dante is getting at.]
I think she's gonna have a few choice words for him, but I can't see why he wouldn't like her. Why?
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Iβd be a little surprised if he didnβt like her. Probably would be awkward around her at first because thatβs just how he is, but. ( Finishing off his pickle, he goes in for another one β stabs it with his fork. ) What if he didnβt like her? What would you do?
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[This thought exercise is difficult for him because honestly, who wouldn't like Kyrie? But the scenario has crossed his mind before, and there was only ever one thing he knew he would do, with confidence.]
It'd be disappointing. But I love Kyrie and she's important to me. He should be able to respect that, and even if he doesn't like her, play nice because she's my family, too. [And he's had Kyrie a hell of a lot longer than he's had Vergil, or Dante for that matter.]
I don't think he'd really cause trouble about it, though. Not unless... I don't know, she got swapped out for an evil doppelganger and was going to stab me or something.
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Lazily, he smiles to himself around the pickle before he bites into it, waving the other half of it around as he thinks. )
No compromise, huh? Loyal to those you care about and especially love.
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[Sometimes Nero kind of just says things that sound wiser than he means them to.]
I mean, honestly, I'd try to find out what the problem was and smooth it over if I could. It'd be a bummer if I couldn't bring him around her. But I can care about two people even if they don't get along comfortably.
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Well. Youβre in luck. Canβt see any real reason why heβd not like her.
( A glance over to the kid, he claps his hand down on his shoulder a couple times before he starts to make his way around him. )
Thanks for the help, kid.
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[Yeah, right. He lets Dante just think he's about to walk off when he asks the obvious question.]
Why do you ask, anyway?
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Just making conversation with my favorite nephew.
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[Yeah he's doubt.jpg it was really that random a question, but he won't pry... just gives Dante a smirk.]
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( He lazy shrugs. )
My hand got stuck in a jar and we made some conversation. Bada bing, bada boom.
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[This does not mean Nero is guessing that Dante is projecting some issue of his own here, much less that there's someone to be concerned about. Just that he thinks there's more to this than old easy breezy Dante is trying to pretend.]
Whatever you say, Dante.
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( Again, he shrugs, lazy little grin there on his lips. )
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[Look, he's not bringing up the "you didn't tell me about my father or that we were related" thing again, he's just gently teasing about it this time.]
Is this all you're eating? Pickles? I could make something for lunch if you're hungry.
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I'm good. Might go out and find something to eat somewhere. But I appreciate the pickles being brought back.
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[No judgment... just wondering...]
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Probably best to toss 'em out given my hand was all over them.
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[Now that the crisis is over, Nero rolls his shoulders and heads over to keep unpacking his grocery bag, settling in the for the afternoon.]
No wonder Dad wants you out of the kitchen. Lack of supervision...
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Yeah. Always was a burden.
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[Out of the sacks come some cans of tuna. Looks like those pickles were for his plans, too.]
Hey, are you gonna do anything for New Year's?
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I dunno. Maybe. Why?
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Just curious. I was gonna grab a six-pack and take it easy. You're welcome to join me, though if you find something more exciting, don't let me stop you.
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I had a date but it fell through.
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Bummer. Gonna reschedule it?
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( Humor fixes everything. )
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If you ever want to talk about stuff like that, you can just talk to me, you know. I'm a good listener.
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( lol. he's hilarious. )
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You know what I mean. And unlike booze, I can talk back.
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( To which he points a finger at the kid and chuckles some, though it's tired. )
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Dante's not as slick as he thinks he is. But he's a feral cat in his own right.]
Right. You can blow it off if you need to. But I'm serious, okay?
[Back to unpacking his bags...]
I'm always here if you need me. I worry about you guys, too.
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Shouldn't do that. You're just gonna get wrinkles. Lots of 'em, too.
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[He glances at Dante with a put-upon, very wrinkled expression of disapproval. Then lets it melt into a smirk as he heads over to the pantry to put things away.]
Anyway. I'll be around tomorrow night if you're looking for company.
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Sigh on his lips, he makes his way over to the kid, dropping a hand down on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Voice soft, genuine. )
Hey. It's ok. We can't all be as lucky as you.
( ...catches himself there from almost saying or your old man. Someone really needs to tell the kid here about that and that someone sure as Hell isn't him. )
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So he's going to let it go, but he does look a little puzzled when Dante squeezes his shoulder. That's an odd thing to say.]
Lucky for what?
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Kyrie? Are you really that dense? Now you're makin' me feel sorry for her.
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Wh- you changed the subject! That was like, five minutes ago! Of course I'm lucky to have her!!
[And of course you should feel sorry for her because her boyfriend is so, so dumb!!! Nero would be the first to sign off on that one.]
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Do me a favor. You get out of here, take her somewhere real nice.
( She deserves it. Hell, anyone does hitching their wagons to a blood relative of Sparda. )
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Of course I will. I'll take her anywhere she wants to go.
[There's something just a liiiiiittle bit wistful in the way he says it, in his eyes, speaking of her. But he's not gonna get into that now, so he changes the subject.]
You just let me know if you need any dating advice, I guess.
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I've been around a lot longer than you, kid. Think I know how to handle that.
( His luck is just shit. Always has been. Always will be. )
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[And he claps Dante back in between his shoulders with a few solid pats of his own.]
A youthful, modern one.
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( Alright. That does it. Here he goes wrapping an arm around Nero's neck and pulling him down into a headlock, giving him a noogie. )
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[He throws an arm around Dante's trunk in anticipation, trying to wiggle out of the headlock but alas, trapped. So then he starts trying to wrestle away, simultaneously kicking Dante in the sides of his shins to throw him off.
Hasn't shut him up, though.]
So old you can't operate a pickle jar on your own anymore. How tragic!
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The only thing tragic here is your getting noogied by an old man.
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[He's laughing more than he is actually distressed at being manhandled and harassed by his beloved uncle, even as he's struggling to get away. Without whipping out his wings, Dante got the drop on him, alas...]
Sure hope we don't face down a pickle demon ever, or you're fucked.
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( Another few noogies given to the kid's head, he lets him go then, bapping the back of his head with a closed fist. Playful, not at all with the intent to harm him. Just, you know. Dante being Dante. )
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[He's wriggling hard enough that the release sends him stumbling a bit. He recovers quickly though, grins, and moves back in to throw his arms around Dante for the ultimate riposte:
A genuine hug.]
Dumbass. [Awww. A pet name!]
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Taking a second to really just process that, he sighs and returns the embrace albeit gently, hand gently stroking the kid's back some as he lets him hug him. He'd die for this kid. He'd also die for his brother, too. Much as he doesn't want to... he would. Because they're his family and he loves them. )
Yeah, I know.
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He doesn't drag it out too terribly long, mostly smug at hugging his uncle and successfully getting it reciprocated. Follows it up with a friendly punch in the arm as he backs off.]
Bag up your sink pickles if you want 'em, old man. I'm gonna clean up after I put all this away.
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( Gosh, Nero. )
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[And he scoffs as he goes to get all those pickles out of the sink. He's gonna need a shower later.]
Unky Pickles. There we go.
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Right. Well. I'm gonna head to my room then.
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[A smirk over his shoulder.]
And just let me know if you wanna hang out tomorrow. No pressure.
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You sure about that?
( Feels like he wants to spend time with his unky. )
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Yeah, seriously. I was just gonna put on a match and have a couple beers. Might even go to bed before midnight. If you're down, then cool, but it might be a little boring.
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I'll be around. Might take you up on it.
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[So... pizza.]
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( It's his, ok. )
BACKDATED TO CHRISTMAS
Hope you find these useful, but you should only use the smaller one for playing with your sword.
Not like that.
Merry Christmas Nero xxx T
[Accompanying his card, Nero will find two surprisingly tastefully wrapped packages of festive green and red paper, containing a middleweight knitted burgundy sweater and a pocket tool kit.]
text; un: dante
you or your old man home at the moment?
un: xBlackKnightx
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just wondering π
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Yeah I don't believe that for a second. What's goin on?
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You live here too?
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You got a hot date coming with you or something?
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would i do that?
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I'm right arent i??
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i'm losing service...
i can't....
hear....you......
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when have i never not been ok?
( lol. )
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HOW HURT ARE YOU
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i just need a shower
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I'm working in the garage, try not to bleed all over the carpet or whatever on your way in
fucking hell dude!!!
[This is a bluff. He is not working in the garage, currently.]
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if you're asking if i got some slimy eel thing lodged in me
no i don't
i'm fine
i just need a shower because i look like a damn mess
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[He is not. He's relieved it's not another gross worm parasite thing, which he is completely sure Dante would treat with the same gravitas as last time. Which was zero.]
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But lo and behold! The youngest son of Sparda returns some fifteen minutes later... soaking wet and dripping all over the floor there in the entryway. The reason he's soaked is because he'd thrown himself into the nearest body of water for a couple seconds in an attempt to get rid of the blood he'd been fully covered in. Wow! It's just like back home when Urizen the douchebag was around. He's still covered in blood here and there since he's been unable to really wash it off, but! At least he's not looking like Carrie with the pig's blood anymore. Just. You know. Streaky with it.
Boots squishing there as he goes, he's making his way for the bathroom then. Squish. Squish. Squish. )
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[Speaks up Nero, sitting up so he's visible over the couch back, eyes narrowed. Even if he couldn't clearly see the blood still clinging all over his uncle, he can smell its metallic tang along with the scent of wet clothes. Not because he's part demon really, but because he has a sense of smell.
He looks incredibly unamused as he glowers at Dante.]
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More like was.
( Heh. He shrugs though. )
Some creature from the black lagoon lookin' thing. You ever been to the swamps here? They got some tough cookies out there.
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Any of it yours? Did you get hurt?
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Maybe I like a bit of pain.
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Will you just answer a fucking question? That's not what I asked.
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You know we always heal up. I told you I'm fine. Been doin' this a lot longer than you, kid.
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[He tosses down his comic book with a thump and stands up.]
You know if this was the other way around you'd be freaking out, if I got hurt and tried to lie about it. Why don't you just talk to me like I'm an adult who can handle shit?
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You really are your father's son.
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[But boy, he sure is, isn't he?
He paces out from behind the couch and steps out to give Dante the what-for. (Sorry, Dante, he clearly worked himself up in the time it took you to get here.)]
ALL you had to say was, "Hey Nero, I got a little banged up fighting swamp creatures, is the shower open?" Or like- "wowee I got a lot of monster blood on me, I need a bath!" Of course I'm gonna think it's way worse when you try to hide it!
Except you try to hide it when it's worse, too! Like- come the fuck on, Dante!
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It's just not that big a deal to me. So I don't think to really go into it.
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[Nero storms over and grabs Dante's nasty, blood-streaked coat, tugging on it to indicate he should take it off. You're not trailing through the rest of the house in that nasty thing, buddy.]
I'm not freaking out on you because I'm a nag or a scold or whatever. I know you're a big boy and you can handle yourself. But shit, Dante, you shouldn't be so careless! We worry about you, and the last thing we want is you to seriously fuck yourself up because it's "not that big a deal!"
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Who says I'm careless? You know how many things have tried to kill me over the years? It's like you forget who you're talkin' to.
( The Legendary Devil Hunter Dante. )
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[Guess who reminded him of THAT, Unky?]
Like. Look. I know you can heal and it's usually fine, but what if it wasn't? Dad and Trish and I would just be in the total dark. And what if something happened to you?
[He folds up the nasty coat, doing his best to get the blood and moisture inside and not dripping all over the floor.]
You know, I'd chill out about this and worry less if you would just be honest and quit trying to hide shit from me all the time?
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He knows he does it β always has since everything went to shit. Nero's a kidβ his nephew that he's tried to keep safe the best he could while maintaining the distance that he has. Not because he doesn't care. But because he does and he's family and he'd rather not fail the kid like he did his old man without being able to save him. Heh. Unresolved issues he still struggles with in private. But sometimes the kid is just too. damn. stubborn. and ends up even pushing Legendary Devil Hunter Dante to his limit. That's not it, Nero. He can still feel the anger there on his tongue when he'd snapped at the kid. Felt bad about it, but. Damn. If anything had happened to him... if Vergil had done anything to him without realizing who Nero was at the time and Dante was the one who had to live with that...
Even now. He tries to keep them safe. In his unhealthy but effective[??] way. )
Nothing's gonna happen to me, kid. I'm right here.
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[And came home with a worm in his shoulder that one time, that too.
His irritation with Dante's constant masking is boiling over into his own insecurities and fears, worries about his inability to protect those who are important to him. He can't protect Dante if the moron is out getting his ass beat and then lying about it.
He takes the jacket over to the kitchen, thinking he'll rinse it in the sink. Then he thinks better of it, and ends up hovering there with it in his hands.]
Just stay on topic, will you? Why can't you ever just tell me the truth? I'm not a little kid who needs to be shielded from everything. I'm basically your partner, aren't I?
I wouldn't get so pissed or worried if I trusted you to just-- tell me things!
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Looking down at the soaking mess he is, he huffs and starts to unbuckle his belt. )
I don't know if you know this about me and your old man, but we don't really do the whole talking thing much. I mean, Hell. I try to sometimes. But then one of us goes and shuts the other down before we can really get to saying what we want to say to the other and on and on and on it goes.
( Belt off, he drapes it there with the ladies, looking back to Nero. )
I was upset and angry so I went and took it out on a bunch of swamp creatures to get it out of my system. Gee, uncle Dante, why were you so upset and angry? Well, Nero, maybe because I don't like people thinking badly of my brother despite the stupid shit he does. Maybe I don't like having to wrangle with both being pissed at and missing my own old man. Maybe I don't like the fact that despite the many years I've been at this and a lot of the time, not by choice, I still can't always control the demonic part of me and I get scared I'm going to hurt someone like you or some rando in this place.
( Arms stretched open, he smiles, though he's strained. )
That good enough for you?
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Nero isn't quite expecting the flurry of words he gets out of Dante, but he listens to them all the same, albeit with a few shifts in his expression and some surprised blinking. It's a lot to take in at once, and some of it is surprising to hear. Some of it isn't, at all. Gee Unc, you mean you and Vergil fucking suck at talking about stuff and misunderstand each other all the time? No shit! Still, he imagines the intention is to dump so much that Nero regrets asking, or hearing about it.
Which isn't the case, at all.
He looks at Dante's big, fakey smile and open arms and briefly purses his lips, thoughtful. Then he sets the balled-up, filthy coat down on the counter (he'll clean it off later) and takes a few steps closer to him.]
That's a hell of a lot to try and keep to yourself all the time.
[Nero puts out his own arms, sort of a shrug, sort of a "I come in peace," sort of a... not-quite developed "can I offer a hug" sort of gesture.]
Look. I'm gonna sound fuckin' hokey, but... You don't have to deal with all that alone. Maybe I can't solve anything for you but... talking does help, you know? We're family. Even if you just need me to listen and keep my mouth shut, I want to.
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He waits for him to pack it up and move on β to be all whatever about it and go handle his bloody wet coat there he'd decided to take for himself. Instead, the kid comes over and he stands there. Right in front of him. Arms out at his sides like they are. He eyes them β eyes Nero there for a second before he lifts his gaze more up to his face and listens to what he has to say.
While he doesn't necessarily mean to, he can't help the scoff that leaves him. It's more tired than anything else and he just shakes his head β stares off across the room with teeth dragging over his bottom lip again. He recalls someone here telling him about how much of a disservice it is both to himself and to his family here to keep them at arms length like he does, especially with the things that bother him. Someone's gotta protect them, he'd said, and he wondered, in that moment, if that's how his old man felt when walking away from his family. The whole having to do things you don't really want to because it's a way to keep them safe. Except things still went to shit and that's always a worry of his, too. Guess he picked that up from Sparda without even realizing it.
After a moment, he sighs β looks down to the ground. )
Yeah. We're family. A dysfunctional one still to this day.
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[He doesn't think he's talking to a wall here. Dante pretends to be blase and above it all all the time, but just like Vergil, he does listen when Nero talks. He's heard his own words echoed back at him in Dante's voice plenty of times-- or at least, heard the man admit something close enough to something Nero once insisted... look. Even if he can't take credit for it, he can at least know that it's not completely pointless speaking from the heart to Dante.]
Look. We're all here together under one roof. Your partner is a nice demon who keeps raiding our fridge. You and Vergil stopped trying to kill each other. And I'm calling the guy who ripped my fucking arm off "Dad." We've all changed from how it used to be. We've gotten better, together.
[Nero takes another step, carefully, and reaches up to put his hand on Dante's bicep, kind of a cross between a brotherly slap and a gentle squeeze.]
Like, don't get me wrong, we're always gonna be a bunch of weirdos. That's just who we are as a family. But things don't have to stay fucked up just because they got that way once. We can work together and make things better. That's what families are supposed to do, right? They support each other and help each other grow.
[Yes he is aware he sounds like some kind of lame after school special. So you KNOW he must believe this, hard, if he's willing to put his own words to such a sentiment.]
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Gaze drifting over to the hand there on his arm, blue eyes lift then to meet Nero's face there and he's just... quiet... in a way where it's more he's not entirely sure what to say rather than keeping this and that to himself. After a moment, he ducks his head. )
I really need to shower.
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Before he drops his hand away and swaps over to a more comfortable sass.]
Yeah, you do. You reek like pond scum.
[He smirks and backs off, gesturing back to the dirty coat he left on the countertop.] You want me to throw anything else in the wash?
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I'll leave it outside the bathroom.
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Nero smiles back, nodding.]
Just put on a towel before you come out parading your clean ass around the house, okay?
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The moment the door's closed behind him, he takes a second or two to lean against it and just... sighs. Fingers pinch the bridge of his nose β eyes squeezing shut and he allows himself a couple deep breaths before he's pushing himself off the door and slowly starting to undress himself. Like he'd said, he leaves the pile of clothes there outside the bathroom door for the kid, still a little unsure about him taking care of his laundry, but. It is what it is and he needs to clean himself off, so. It's into the shower he goes once the water's on and the right temperature for him.
He takes a bit of time in there β makes sure to wash off all the blood and everything else he'd missed in his random dive into the nearest body of water before he'd made his way back home. When he feels like he's good enough, he steps out, grabs himself a towel, and starts to pat himself dry. In doing so, he catches a glimpse of himself there in the foggy mirror, but. The blurred reflection isn't exactly him. It's his other form. The devil within him. He stares at it β what he can anyways through the condensation there across the mirror, but. He sees it and, rather than completely ignore it as he tends to do, he huffs, wrapping the towel around his waist. )
Always gonna be a little dysfunctional, right?
( Said to the demonic reflection there in the mirror, he stares for a beat or two longer before he's making his way out of the shower, wrapped up in a towel and heading for his room to grab a pair of sweats to slip into. Once those are on, he wanders throughout the house in search of the kid, towel in hand and shirtless. Just like when he was a kid himself. )
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He glances back over his shoulder when he hears Dante approaching.]
Well, you sure smell better.
[Nero shuts off the sink and plops the coat on top of the dryer to dab it fully dry.]
Your coat smells better too. Whatever you were killing, its blood stinks like ass.
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Iβve got a lot of mixed feelings about my old man.
( He says, finally, gaze distant before he goes and ducks his head some. )
Iβm sure your old man would assume I just hate our father and want nothing to do with him because, well. When we were younger after mom died and everything, yeah. I kinda did hold a grudge against him.
( Dante in his youth was sure A Time. Even more frustrating than he is now. )
But I donβt hate him. Iβm angry he wasnβt there to protect us. Some part of me always will be. But I still miss him sometimes, too. He wasβ¦ my old man. Sure he could be intimidating when heβd raise his voice, but itβs not like all my memories are bad ones. I just wish your old man would let me say as much, instead of just assume Iβm going to shit talk him like Iβm eighteen again.
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Nero turns around to face him, remaining quiet, listening intently. It wasn't exactly news to him that Dante and Vergil have differing opinions on the man who was Sparda. All it took was one time of asking them each about him to learn that difference. Vergil has nothing but praise for their father. Dante... his feelings have obviously been more mixed. And he gathers this has been a source of much contention between them in the past. Vergil has even remarked on what he believes Dante would want to say about Sparda.
He makes a crooked little tilt of a smirk, and nods.] Hey. I can understand having difficult feelings about your father, now. [He couldn't have said that even just a few months ago.
But anyway, they're not talking about Nero here. He just figured he'd offer a little empathy there.]
I don't want to tell you how you should talk to your own brother. But I've had better luck with him when I have to tell him difficult things, if I ask him to listen. To wait until I'm finished before he jumps to a conclusion, you know?
I think it's easy for us all to hear what we think we're hearing, and take it really personally. Especially him. [Yeah also Nero. He can admit that.]
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( But even then, he still tried to reach out to Vergil. Numerous times. Make him see the error of his ways β to see how important his humanity was and how wrong heβd been about certain assumptions made. He'll always try to reach out for his brother and pull him back if he starts to float adrift. Doesnβt mean he doesnβt get tired of it though. Or just wishes heβd make it a little easier sometimes.
A glance down, he sighs. )
We have a certain history between us. You and him donβt. Itβs easier for him to start something new with you.
( Which heβs glad Vergil is making attempts to do, especially for Nero. )
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[He would point out that he and Vergil got off on possibly the worst foot ever, but there's no real need to point that out. It's not the same thing and he knows it. It takes a long and bitter history between two brothers to make them fight like Dante and Vergil did.]
I... [He hesitates, and thinks again before he goes on.] I know I'm missing a lot of what happened between you guys. And that's fine, if it's not my business or you'd rather not share. It means I'm gonna be talking out of my ass a bit here on some of this, but...
[A shrug.] He's changed, just in how I'm able to talk to him. Even just as long as I've been here. It might be hard, not to fall back into the same shit again with each other but... I think he could listen now, better than he could before.
[Which isn't going to soothe Dante's concerns, probably. So he'll put his money where his mouth is.] If you wanted to, I could talk to him for you sometime. Just like... warm him up. Put him at ease a little. If you're not both so nervous maybe it'll go better when you do talk.
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Twisting some to lean there on his shoulder, he crosses those arms in front his bare chest and smiles faintly to the kid. Vergil should be proud of his kid. Even if Vergil didn't raise him and heβd only unknowingly had his uncle there around him the past five years, he turned out pretty good, heβd seen it the end of that first time theyβd met. When he left the Yamato in the hands of his nephew. Heh. One day heβs gonna properly inherit that thing. Which leaves him to wonder what to do about all his own devil arms and the shop when he finally kicks the bucket. Nero just inheriting so much from his old man and uncle. Itβs exactly why heβd done his best to keep him in the dark long as he had. Not all of it is a bunch of cool weapons. )
Heβs doing better. I know. Trust me. ( Theyβre brothers after all. ) Heβs βthe older oneβ ( to which he actually uses air quotes, yes. ) but I guess I always feel the need to keep an eye on him.
( Somebodyβs gotta keep an eye on your old man. )
Iβve lost him three times in my life. All of which I felt were my fault. I donβt wanna say or do anything to lose him again. I canβt. Only so much heartache this old heart can take at my age.
( So he just keeps it to himself. Heh. )
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It is actually nice to hear Dante opening up to him. Can't help but notice he dodges the question, but that's okay for now. It means a lot to hear him actually trust Nero with his honest feelings.
(Lost him three times. Nero knows the story of one of those. He wonders if he'll ever find out the other two.)]
I know he doesn't want to lose you, either. Even if he can be prickly and awkward about it... I bet it's just hard for you guys to communicate sometimes. [Having A History will do that.
Okay. He'll say it again, then.] I know you may not want me to get involved. But if I can ever help, I want to. Even if you guys just need a mediator or a third person to listen. [A beat.] I won't bitchslap anybody this time either. Or I'll try really hard not to, at least.
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( Vergil being the grumpiest of grumpy, yes. Still, he smiles a bit to Nero, still leaning there against the entryway as he is. )
But yeah. Communicating with words has never really been our strong point. Always ends up in a physical fight. Even when we were kids.
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[He folds his arms and leans back against the dryer.]
Isn't it normal to want your family members to get along? I care about you both. If I can do anything to make communicating easier between you, I'm happy to.
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( To which he throws Nero a look of disbelief. )
Every family just has their moments.
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[He gestures upwards, vaguely indicating Vergil... wherever he is.]
But you're nervous to talk about your dad with him, and it seems like that would make you feel better. So...? Why don't you let me help?
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( Heh. Humor to lighten the mood. )
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Because my uncle's a stubborn dumbass who'll take the whole world on his shoulders and never asks for help, no matter how much it kicks his ass?
[An eyebrow quirks, slyly challenging.]
I'm just sayin'... You don't have to do everything by yourself.
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Now how could I ever take everything on my own when I've got you being so damn obnoxious about me not doing that?
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[Nero smirks at him and shakes his head.]
You might as well give up and let me in. I'll outstubborn you any day, old man.
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Kids these days. No respect for their elders. Well I never.
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[Nero gets the sense that pushing harder isn't going to work out. Either he pushes too much and Dante gets mad, or he just straight up shuts down. So he'll let up for now, turning his attention instead to taking Dante's jacket off the dryer and letting it hang from his hands.]
Anyway. Just think about it, okay? [Shake-a shake-a shake the jacket.] Here you go. I think I got most of it off.
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Thanks, kid. Bang up job.
( A nod, he turns some β intends to maybe either get something to eat or put a shirt on, but. Instead, he stands there, letting his back press against the entryway as he mulls something over for a moment. )
What would you even say to him?
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To Dad? [He thinks about it a moment.] I'd tell him that you want to talk, but you're worried about being misunderstood. So I'd ask if he could listen to you and let you finish before he takes any conclusions from it. Just like with me and him.
Something like that.
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So, smile still faint there on his lips, he hums. As if in consideration. )
Well. Good to know.
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He tilts his head suddenly.]
Hey, Dante.
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Yeah?
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[He smirks.]
I've been working out. We're overdue for a party.
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Sure thing, kiddo. Long as you can keep up.
( He mostly means with the flying part because something you sort of have to do to get there. Unless you're Vergil with a portal opening sword. )
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grinding purple orbspracticing!]...As long as we go fast and I bring a sports drink in my bag, heh.
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Is there any other way?
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[Yeah, Dad, they're KINDA BULLSHIT...]
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It is pretty rude of him, huh?
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[They're at the point Nero can give Vergil a hard time now. That's good!]
Meanwhile, us tough guys gotta walk and fly.
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( Chuckle on his lips, he smiles to the kid then. )
What a guy.
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[He smirks and turns back to the laundry. Not too much to tidy up, but a few things to put away and wipe up.]
I'm making burgers tonight. You gonna be around for dinner?
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( Asked with a lazy shrug. )
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[I mean... is he wrong though?]
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( C'mon, kiddo. )
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[He's zeroing in on a recipe that Vergil likes. Thinks he's gonna nail it tonight. Just a little breadcrumbs, an egg yolk...]
Better go rest those old bones, then.
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( To which he shakes his head at the kid, playful little scoff under his breath. )
So you and your old man have talked and everything?
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[He glances at Dante again.]
We've been hanging out. I've been trying to find things we can do together that we both like. But we've been talking, yeah, like... normal.
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( Smile there, he gives a small nod. )
I'm glad it's working out for you here. That you're getting the time you deserve with him.
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[He smiles a little when he glances at Dante this time.]
Fucked up as it is here sometimes... and as much as I wasn't supposed to be here? It's worth everything to get to be with you guys.
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You think it's fucked up? I dunno. Doesn't seem all that bad to me.
( Then again, he has a way of being rather nonchalant with whatever life tends to throw at him, so. )
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[He shakes his head with disgust.]
But even that... I guess it was a good thing to go through in the end. A little bullshit is worth it for getting to be here with you and Dad. [A chuckle.] And Trish... could you tell her to restock my sports drinks next time she's over? It's cool if she likes them too but I ran out before I worked out yesterday.
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( To which he chuckles a bit and shakes his head. )
And I guess. You shy all of a sudden or something?
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[He leans his head back suddenly to look at him.] Didja see my weight bench? I built it in the garage all by myself.
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( Dante... not so much. He likes to play with his instruments or shoot some pool. Doesn't have a pool table for himself yet, but. He's got a dart board? And his jukebox. Progress. )
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[He wants very much to just roll back over and go back to sleep then and there. It already feels plenty childish enough being this affected by a nightmare in the first place. To not be able to let it rest and go back to sleep leads him to feeling all the more juvenile and pathetic, but he cannot stop his mind at the way it reaches for the fragments of the nightmare.]
[Vergil does not remember clearly how it began. He remembers Beatrice had been there, but likely only remembers her presence in the dream because she had been visibly pregnant. Vergil walked away from her too soon in what he remembers of the dream for her presence in the dream to bear any particular weight, to pursue... Something. Something caught his attention down an alley. A moving shadow that he felt compelled to pursue. There's where gaps in his memory of what happened begin again. He remembers thinking faintly that he should go back to Beatrice after a while, and that she's probably wondering where he went, but there was no way back. Almost like one of the Fox's infuriating trials wherein the only path is forward. But then there's little more that he remembers until at some point, he found Nero.]
[Just as how he did not question how exactly his son could at once still be in his mother's womb and fully grown beside him, Vergil did not notice it in the dream at the time how much Nero was not acting like himself leading up to what followed. Going over it with his waking mind, Vergil recognizes now just how serious and cold Nero had been. It should have been obvious that something was wrong, but in the dream, Vergil followed Nero blindly until the ground beneath them began to crack and swell and shake. It was only when it crumbled beneath Vergil and he found it so difficult to be nearly impossible to move that it finally struck him that something was wrong. Vergil tried to reach solid ground. He called out to Nero, reached for him desperately. But Nero merely stood there, passively watching Vergil fall.]
[Vergil doesn't know if there is a gap in his memory of the dream, or if it simply was the circumstance that Vergil found himself when he finally stopped falling into the dark, but he remembers the last of the dream with more clarity.]
[His clothes were soaked not just from the pool that they fought in, but his own blood. Every part of him ached and, to his shame, there was a part of him that merely wanted to lie there, to let this be the end of it. The duel he was locked in with the knight opposite him was to the death, and he was losing. Vergil said nothing to the taunt of weakness that runs in his veins. Nor did he look to the speaker. He knew already that it did not come from his opponent, but rather Vergil's true target, who he was meant to slay after cutting this knight down. Mundus. Ignoring the demon king entirely, Vergil pressed the broken tip of Yamato into the ground and he rose once more with strength he no longer possessed. But Mundus was quick to deny Vergil his warrior's death.]
[Squeezing his eyes shut, Vergil sits up, pushing the blankets off and swinging his feet around to touch his bedroom floor. The horror of the nightmare was not what ultimately became of Vergil. That was secondary. Familiar. A commonplace nightmare made from memory even for how...unpleasant it is to remember. This, however, was a first. Head in his hands, Vergil tries to shake the image of the other knight from his mind. Nero was the one beneath the helmet. With a subtle red glow to his eyes, skin so pale that nearly every blue vein in his face is easily seen. Little more than a shambling corpse for all the life that appeared to be possessed within him, his expression just as impassive as the one upon the helmet he donned. He did not know Vergil, and he cared for nothing, following Mundus' orders just as the rest of Mundus' puppets did. For all that it was not real and he knows it is not real, Vergil cannot not help but still feel his heart break in ways he did not think were possible and his stomach twists itself into knots at the mere thought of it. Standing, Vergil walks over to his bedroom door, but pauses once his hand touches the doorknob. Light is still filtering at the bottom of the door from the living room. Which means...]
[Nero is potentially still awake if he hasn't fallen asleep on the couch instead of making it to his own bed.]
[Standing there for a moment in his indecision, Vergil decides to slightly alter his plans and chance it. He can probably slip into the bathroom unnoticed, splash some water on his face, get back into bed to read until he can sleep again, and be fine. Hopefully, Nero is passed out on the couch, and will remain none the wiser, but even if he's awake, he may very well not notice or think anything of it. Quietly, Vergil opens his bedroom door.]
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Tonight, it's been old monster movies. The real old, dumb ones with rubber suits that aren't scary at all. Usually he finds them kind of funny but this one sucks... just plain boring. It's getting really late and he's almost drifted off a few times, lying down on the couch with one foot splayed up on the backrest in a slouchy, splayed out flop of a position.
He's just contemplating shutting it off and moving to his bedroom when he hears a door creaking behind him. Steps on the floor. The TV's not turned up loud and even if it was, Nero learned long ago to tune in to even tiny, subtle noises. It was hard not to, growing up in a place like the orphanage. But it's also how he kept his little handheld TV-radio from getting confiscated as a kid, and how he accomplished plenty of other mischief, too.
He sits up. The hood of his hoodie is pulled up over his head, and his eyes look tired and bleary for a moment. Only a moment, before they blink curiously to see Vergil emerging. And he can't quite put his finger on what yet, but something's... off with him.]
Bit early for breakfast, isn't it? [There's a wry, gentle teasing tone there.] Am I too loud?
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No. I wasn't even aware you were still awake. [His brow furrows a little.] You are planning on going to bed soon, aren't you?
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[He's still gazing at Vergil, trying to puzzle out what's bugging him. Apart from seeing his father awake at this hour at all. He... thinks Vergil tends to stay in his room once he retires, whether or not he's actually asleep in there? But he's up and he looks... exhausted, maybe? Sick?
It's like trying to diagnose a cat over here.
So just in case, Nero offers a careful question.]
Everything okay?
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[...Vergil is far from a particularly gifted liar.]
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Nero's brow immediately knits at that answer and not in a way to suggest he's convinced, either. He watches Vergil cross the room to the kitchen, frowning a little deeper with every step.
If he thinks he's escaping The Inquiry, he's about to be just as wrong as Dante always is.
By the time Vergil emerges, Nero has crossed to the other end of the couch to sit on the arm, watching for him to come back.]
You look a little shaky, that's all. Are you sick? [... does he get sick?]
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[He sighs a little.]
You don't need to start worrying, Nero. It's late and I haven't had enough sleep. That's all.
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[He gives Vergil a knowing Look there. Both for echoing his phrasing back at him and for his stubbornness in refusing any acknowledgement of his poor sleep and whatever led to it.]
Look. If you really want me to piss off, I can. [Probably. He's not interested in getting into an actual argument about it, but he's just as aware Vergil wouldn't admit it even if he did need something. Which is why he's not dropped it yet.]
But you wouldn't do that to me without checking in. It sucks, waking up feeling like shit.
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[Nero had called it stupid last time. The label still applies even if Vergil doesn't give it more than passing, private acknowledgment. But it feels more...frustrating than that now when it's not just the past coming forward into the present. What happened in that dream has never come to pass, and Vergil would sooner lay down his life than allow anything remotely like it. But for those moments in his dream, and when his waking mind now glances upon it, it feels too achingly real with the image still so fresh. Vergil looks away from Nero, belatedly realizing he's been absentmindedly staring at him. It's something perhaps easy to chalk up to his poor sleep, but Nero is far too sharp to not have it likely bring a few questions to his mind all the same.]
[Vergil takes a step back towards his bedroom, trying to will it to leave things there before some larger part of him decides that he might as well. It's not as though Vergil is necessarily convincing Nero all that much that he doesn't need anything whatsoever and it's not a matter that he doesn't know what he needs. So, he detours to the couch and gives into the impulse of embracing his son as tightly as he can, letting Nero's physical presence alone serve as its own reminder that Nero is safe and whatever ways in which Vergil has failed Nero as his father have not somehow amounted to such irreparable harm. Dante called Nero a pretty great kid once, after all, and that isn't even the half of who and what Nero is.]
It was just a bad dream, [he says, letting Nero go and leaving a great deal unsaid.] So, you can help me by finishing your terrible movie and getting to bed soon.
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He's not sure what he's expecting when Vergil comes over. A hug certainly isn't it, and the way Nero's sitting on the couch arm it does create a bit of a funky angle for him to have to twist. But after the initial surprise wears off, he wraps a firm arm around his father to return the gesture for as long as he wants it.
Nero frowns sympathetically when he admits it was a nightmare. Sincerely doubts Vergil will say more, nor does he want to pry, but jeez... this really is a mirror of that night he woke up sick a few months back.]
I'm sorry. You know what always works for bad dreams?
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[Little is different here and now. He's certain whatever Nero is about to suggest has a significant chance of being a joke in an attempt to lighten the perceived mood. But on the chance it's not, Vergil doesn't have much hope that it will actually be effective. Regardless, just as he had with his mother and brother though, he doesn't shut Nero down. For all the ways in which his independent streak has only grown stronger as he grew older, he still at least maintains it's an important kindness to always hear his family out even if his mind is made up and unlikely to change.]
Enlighten me.
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Go lay down again and I'll bring it in for you. [He stands up off the couch and pulls the hoodie down from his head, rolling his shoulders as he crosses the room to turn off the TV.]
Five minutes. And don't lock your door, obviously. [You know... in case the thought occurred...]
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Very well... [he says with an acquiescing sigh before retreating back to his bedroom.] Five minutes.
[Vergil pushes the door closed behind him without locking it. (Not that he had any intention of doing so. Now if it was Dante... That's a different story. And even then, he may still not actually follow through considering the fuss he'd no doubt make.) Settling back under the covers, Vergil rests on his side with his back to the door. In the quiet dark of his room, he can't say he's completely shaken the nightmare off. It's not immediately threatening to replay itself again and again, but Vergil knows if he's not carefully keeping his attention elsewhere, thoughts of it will return easily enough. So, he lies there somewhat glowering into the dark as he waits for Nero, keeping his mind as occupied as he can with speculating on what he thinks is going to help.]
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He steps in, holding a small plate in one hand and a mug of something hot in the other. Then he uses his foot to close the door behind him and makes his way over to the bed, setting them both on Vergil's nightstand beside him. Golden yellow tea with a faint apple scent. On the plate, a piece of toast dressed with melted butter and something sweet.]
Here ya go. Chamomile tea and honey toast. One of the sisters at the orphanage used to whip this up whenever I had bad dreams.
[Then, without asking, he flops over on the other side of the bed, sitting against the headboard. He fully intends to stay a while.]
I know you might not be hungry but at least try a few bites. Works like a charm, honest.
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[...Well. The honey toast, anyway. Based on the faces Vergil's witnessed Nero stifling when he makes his little demands to try Vergil's teas, he can't imagine the chamomile was particularly favored or comforting to Nero as a child. But he knows his father's preference for tea, so he includes it anyway even if the toast is the star. It's a...sweet and kind gesture in sharing something of himself in an earnest attempt to be helpful and look after Vergil.]
[Normally, Vergil would be prone to bristling over it. He hasn't needed help with a bad dream since he was a child, and he wasn't keen on being treated in any manner that implied otherwise now. But the boy's sincerity cannot be misconstrued as condescending or patronizing, or as though there were some hidden insults to Vergil's pride beneath the gesture. So, instead, Vergil is left uncertain what he's meant to do with it.]
[For as much as Vergil has others around him these days, his independence is usually still something he's enforced and carefully protected. It leaves gestures like this one few and far between, but leave it to the boy to find his way so cleanly past everything Vergil may put up as resistance. There are times Vergil wants to be resentful for itβvulnerability of any kind still rings as the incorrect choice to him even nowβbut whatever he could possibly summon against Nero is undone in an instant for no greater reason than he is Vergil's son and the knowledge that adding him further to the lengthy list of Vergil's regrets would surely kill him. So, he remains far more tolerant and less argumentative were it likely anyone else.]
[He remains still while Nero flops himself down on the other side of the bed, only pushing himself to sit up once Nero is settled. Vergil takes the mug, but leaves the plate of toast where it is for the moment.]
Thank you.
[He says it somewhat stiffly, likely letting it be known to Nero that he plainly does not know what to do with any of this. He's no less sincere, however, despite the awkwardness of it.]
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[It's hard to be a tough guy. It's hard to let yourself be vulnerable when you've been hurt so bad in the past. Nero knows that firsthand, and though he still has no idea the extent, he knows for a fact that Vergil knows it too. What else would explain that standoffishness, the prickly defensiveness, the insistence on solitude?
Too bad for him, Nero's been practicing maneuvering around it as easily as he could run up a wall. Not out of anything less than a sincere desire to help. Because harder still than being tough and fearing vulnerability is dealing with shit all on your own, thinking you can't ask for help even when things are overwhelming or unpleasant or just plain suck to handle alone.
Nero, for all his status as an outcast and a black sheep, always had Kyrie. She never put up with it when he tried to shove her away and play Mr. Hardcore Do It Myself, and he knows he's a better man for it. Vergil (and Dante too) get to learn that lesson too, if he has anything to say about it.
He settles in, reclining with his arms pillowing his head, by all accounts making himself very comfortable on Vergil's bed. The real effectiveness of this method, he thinks, is the company. The slice of normalcy to ground one back in the real world and banish away the nightmare. Whether or not Vergil ends up wanting to talk about it, the interlude should create enough distance to help him go back to sleep.]
It sounds really saccharine, but when Kyrie has nightmares, I do the same for her. And vice versa. Even works on Dante, the stubborn ass. So you KNOW there's something to it.
[He turns his head and smiles at his father, looking pretty proud of himself.]
I'd suggest some tunes too, but I know you're not gonna like anything I put on.
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As a child, I would have only accepted the lullabies your grandmother would sing for your uncle and me if there was any music before sleep. I don't believe Dante would have settled down enough to sleep in the first place without them, but I was fine without them. [He pauses a moment before admitting without looking at Nero,] Unless I had a bad dream.
Dante usually came to me whenever he had a bad dream, but I usually went looking for Mother if I couldn't fall back asleep on my own.
[Which was more often than not the case after a bad dream, but not for a lack of trying. He'd lie there with a vice grip on his stuffed animal reminding himself that he's a son of Sparda and has nothing to be afraid of over and over until he broke down and went looking for his mother. If she was already in bed, she let him stay with her. Otherwise, he curled up in her lap. He knew he was allowed to stay as long as it took for him to fall asleep, and some part of him would stubbornly try to fight off sleep to have the rare moment with just his mother alone last a little longer. But he never managed to hold out for long with as warm and safe as he felt, and before he knew it, it was morning and he was waking up in his bed.]
[That all came to an abrupt end after the attack on their home, however, and Vergil grew accustomed to riding it out on his own. Honestly, barring a few nights in Dante's room after that woman managed to rattle Vergil, he's always handled it on his own. He never bothered Beatrice with any of it when they were together. He still won't wake Mizu on the nights he spends with her, and he never goes knocking on Dante or Nero's doors when they happen here. If Nero hadn't still been awake, it's likely Vergil would have crept out of his room long enough to wash his face and returned to read until it was time either for sleep or to get ready for the day.]
[Vergil glances at Nero, but says nothing else.]
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Yeah, you definitely don't want me singing you lullabies. [He breaks into a chuckle at the end of the sentence, no doubt picturing the scene.
It must have been nice... having a mother. Or a brother, for that matter. The other orphans were more like classmates than family members, and Nero got along with them differently at different times as kids came and went. But not him. All he had were the sisters who took care of the place. Sister Maria, the one who came up with the honey toast idea to soothe a restless and crying little Nero. Maybe a few times, when she was around at bedtime, he crawled into the lap of Kyrie's mother just to see what it was like.
He doesn't really want to get into any of that out loud. As much as it's sharing a piece of himself, it feels to him like a lowkey indictment of Vergil. If things were different, Nero could have crawled into his lap, or Beatrice's. But they weren't.
And anyway... it's not about him right now. They're here to take care of Vergil.]
What kind of stuff did she sing? Like, old folk songs or... [He barely knows any that aren't about Sparda. Which he imagines would be weird for her to sing.]
cw: references to parent death, attempted murder of a child
Her bedtime stories were always stories of Father, so we didn't miss him as much and it still felt like he was there with us. I think she made her lullabies for us for a similar reason, [he says, gaze dropping to the tea in his mug with a furrow in his brow. Vergil is quiet a moment before he continues,] But I've forgotten most of the words and melodies. I never heard them again after she died.
[Not that Vergil would have been able to stand it if he had heard them again after her death. For so long, he carried the guilt of not being strong enough to save her or Dante, and carried a resentment over being left to die alone that only grew when he thought her final act had been to save Dante. Back then, they would have just felt little more than pretty lies while nowadays, it would be difficult to not have no small amount of grief overshadow whatever comfort there might be. And for that, he does feel a sense of shame. Eva's lullabies were a gift of love that Vergil never learned to really accept, discarding them out of guilt and grief and resentment, and now finding himself without years and years later.]
I was never particularly inclined towards music like your uncle though, [he says before he can allow that feeling to settle too much. Vergil lifts his gaze again, but still does not look at Nero again just yet as he continues,] And I'd say I've been a little too old for lullabies for a long time.
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How's that old saying go? Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have known love at all? Something like that.
At least Vergil gives him something to recover with.] I think music's like food. Everybody needs it... you just gotta find what you like.
[He gives his father a slight sidelong glance and smiles faintly.] I'd peg you for a classical guy, with the poetry and all but. I don't know. Maybe you're a secret metalhead and we don't know it yet.
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This isn't going to lead to you and Dante dragging me to music stores and venues to try various albums and genres, is it? [With one hand, he reaches over and ruffles Nero's hair. It's no less affectionate, but it is a bit rougher than usual so there's a perfect excuse to put Nero in a loose headlock when he inevitable squirms.] Because I think I already put up enough with the two of you staring at me when I eat, don't I?
[He's teasing, of course. While Vergil might not have as much personal investment as the other two in finding his favorite foods or show much sign of changing his eating habits towards anything resembling indulgence, he doesn't have a tendency to complain about it. Vergil may not know what to do with Dante and Nero caring as much as they do (or understand the ways that they care) but he knows better now than to take something like that entirely for granted. So, the complaints are kept to a minimum, and provided he isn't in a foul mood, Vergil has been willing to humor it each time.]
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... is it true? He's not been terribly clear...]
What, that doesn't sound fun to you? [Teasing back. Here is when he's hair-ruffled and pulled into a headlock. Nero grunts and puts up the cursory, expected amount of fussing before giving up and letting his head flop against Vergil, lazily turning to rest his head against the side of his shoulder at an easy angle.
He nudges an elbow back to gently rib him.]
We could skip it if you tell me like, ONE genre you like. Or even one song.
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One piece of music that I like, and you would skip all that? [Vergil has plain and obvious doubts that it won't just encourage it all the same. The only thing he thinks would actually change is there would perhaps be bit more of a guided direction rather than taking random stabs in the dark based on what he supposes someone with Vergil's temperament would like.] Somehow, I just don't believe you.
[Vergil threads his fingers through Nero's hair, but gentler this time. More in the usual manner that he tends to pet Nero's hair.]
But I don't find most classical music any more interesting to listen to than you likely do. I only listened to a few composers from the 19th century when I was still a child.
[Which if Nero can piece it together by artistic movement that means, yes, Vergil absolutely was listening to music that would have been contemporary to his favorite poets. But the fact Vergil was that much of a nerd when he was younger that he would have gone looking for music that the poets he admired would have heard and appreciated shouldn't come as some great shock to Nero at this point.]
And some of that was because I didn't want to like the same things as Dante did. So, I listened to things I knew he wouldn't have the patience for, and even if I did like some of the same songs he did, I pretended to hate them.
[So, shocker upon shockers, Vergil actually isn't about to faint or wrinkle his nose at the sound of a guitar or power chords and call it all noise. He might not be up for the metal Nero listens to necessarily, but he's not so stuffy or even all that snobbish in his tastes to think there's no merit to it.]
[He grins a little at Nero.]
You know, I once memorized the entire soundtrack to Singin' in the Rain just to retaliate and annoy him right back when he wouldn't leave me alone. Didn't work for long because you know how your uncle is. [He always manages to find a way to turn things on their head. All it took was an interest in it even feigned and Vergil had to abandon it.] But it gave me a small reprieve.
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[He can't help but laugh low under his breath at the anecdote. Little baby Vergil listens to things because he thinks Dante hates them, unless Dante likes them, at which point he decides to hate them. That sounds like the kind of joke Nero would make about the twins.]
What a contrary little brat. [Said fondly though, as dubbed such by another contrary little brat.
The important thing is, he got a damn answer! Sort of!]
Kyrie likes those kind of musical movies too. I've seen more than you probably bet I have. [He also won't admit he enjoys them. Corny as they can be, the sheer entertainment value of real singing and dancing... it's cool, you know?
In response to the hair-petting, he flops a hand on Vergil's knee and gives it a friendly little squeeze. Only because it's a weird angle for him to try going for his hair, over here.]
And look, maybe it's annoying when we're staring at you, but I like learning about you. Stuff you like and what makes you happy.
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[He doesn't know what to say to Nero saying he likes learning about him though, and the words hang there in the air without a response right away. Vergil takes another sip of his tea before setting the mug aside on the nightstand. He takes the plate and places it in his lap, taking his arm and hand back to begin tearing the slice of toast in half.]
That hasn't been a concern of mine in a long time. [It's not much of a confession considering that Nero likely figured that out for himself. But what he says next, Vergil has to take a moment to take a breath and part with it because it's something Vergil has never acknowledged aloud let alone to Nero.] I didn't care much for things while I was still in the human world, and I missed a lot in the decades I was away.
[He offers half the slice of toast to Nero without him having to ask for it. He's not liable to eat all of it anyways, so he'd rather it not go to waste.]
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Things feel a little more solemn when Vergil admits that he didn't care much for things-- either because he didn't or because he couldn't. He was "away" from the human world? That mention puts a little pit in Nero's stomach. The only other option he's aware of is the demon world, the underworld. The place Nero came here to try and rescue him from to begin with. Does that mean...]
Yeah. I kinda figured that much.
[He takes a bite of toast while he figures out what else to say.]
All the more reason you should try lots of things now, right?
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The book that Iβ That V carried. I only had it for a few days before... I didn't even get a chance to properly read it. And I'd left it behind the day Mother died. I didn't bring it with me to the playground and I never went back for it. I simply took the Yamato and left. [There had been nothing left for Vergil to go back for, only a path forward.] But it survived. Of all the books that were once mine, it was the only one to truly survive the fire and the elements and time.
[He glances at Nero, smiling faintly.]
It was the first thing I reclaimed as my own, but it still felt strange in some ways to call it mine.
[He doesn't know if that actually clarified anything for Nero, but Vergil hopes it does. He hopes Nero understands that the times where he seems indifferent or even outright resistant to new things and experiences isn't because he's a stick in the mud or because of some haughty perspective that nothing new can possibly be as good as what he knew. The day he lost his family was the day Vergil began to lose pieces of himself, and he never once went looking for them again. It's those fragments that he's looking for now. He knows it's an impossible task to reclaim them all and living entirely in the past would serve no purpose, but. He wants as many pieces of himself as he can find back. He owes it to himself and to his familyβboth those lost and those foundβto be the better man he's trying to be. So, he's not always ready for something new. He's not always open to it when there are missing or broken pieces he's trying to account for.]
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[He's quiet then, idly tapping his fingers on Vergil's knee as he explains his thoughts. Nero knows exactly where the book is right now, sitting on his nightstand back at the apartment. Somehow he can almost feel its weight from here, learning exactly how significant it is to Vergil. One piece of a past that he left behind by choice, resurfacing whole and intact. That's a suitable description of Vergil's life so far... as Nero knows it currently, anyway.]
I'm taking good care of it back home. I'll give it back when I can.
[He thinks for a moment before saying anything else, stuck on that first statement he made.]
You can always tell me to back off. If you really don't want to do something. I get excited, finding things you like. But we don't mean to be pushy. It's just how me and Dante...
[The statement fades in his throat before he can finish it, and he knows what treacherous phrase causes this.]
We're all still trying to find ways to connect with each other, you know? Even if we do it differently.
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[Setting the toast back down on the plate, Vergil shakes his head.]
Foolish child... [The arm that once held Nero in a headlock comes to more properly wrap around Nero.] While I appreciate the sentiment behind your words, do you really think I would so much as tolerate let alone silently tolerate anything I did not wish to partake in?
[Even if Nero hasn't necessarily been witness to Vergil's more foul moods, he has seen instances of when Vergil wishes to be left alone. He does not make himself available to others and withdraws quickly. His aptitude for being curt and blunt seems to somehow increase. But in that way, Vergil is not cagey or secretive. His mood and desires are made abundantly clear, and his window of tolerance for not receiving what it is he wants is exceptionally narrow compared to usual as compromise is even less of an option.]
I will concede in that I do not share in the...volume of your uncle's or your enthusiasm, but do not mistake my quiet for dissatisfaction. [The arm around Nero raises slightly so that Vergil can thread his fingers through Nero's hair.] I like when you share things with me and how you go about sharing them.
Admittedly, it reminds me of your mother by the sheer amount and speed at which you talk once you truly get going, [he says with a quiet chuckle,] but your passion for things in life is still entirely your own. And I would not...
[He falters there, his nightmare hanging over them like a specter even if it is not what they are explicitly discussing in this exact moment. But Vergil draws another breath and brushes it aside as best he can.]
I would not want anything to take that from you.
[In that one way, Vergil is especially grateful that Nero is so different from him. Whatever parts of Nero's life that have been less than ideal, Vergil would rather any of those than to have Nero stripped of that vibrancy for life.]
So, unless you feel particularly like providing me with a newfound concern, I would suggest you start making plans for which music store you have in mind to drag me to without any sort of proper warning for in the next few days.
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[His tone is teasing, but his smile is tilted a little closer to relief when his father hassles him over what wasn't exactly an apology... a boundary check, maybe. Nero's not under any impression that Vergil is capable of being FORCED to do anything he doesn't want to. But neither does he want to force Vergil to have to bring it up between them. As anxious as he is about pissing off his dad, he's certain Vergil is similarly if not even more anxious about shoving Nero away somehow.
Once again, he gives the expected amount of wiggly protest to being held still, though only enough to give him plausible deniability if he's accused of actually enjoying it. The hair thing settles him down again. He can admit he's fond of how this has become a normal point of contact between them. Like feral cat father, like feral cat son.
Nero grins when he's compared to his mother. It's nice to have those little details to fill out his mental picture of her. It's not quite enough to distract him entirely from that falter, and he wonders briefly if something's wrong. But Vergil moves on quickly enough that he decides not to pick at it or dwell on it.]
Are you kidding? I'd like to see anybody fucking try to chill me out. [He bumps Vergil's knee lightly with a fist.] I'm a goddamn supernova.
[He glances over with another, wickeder flavor of grin.]
Good. Cuz if you said no, I would have just found some other way to spring it on you.
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Of course you would have. You're a stubborn brat, [he says, mussing up Nero's hair. Whatever perfunctory resistance that inspires, Vergil ignores and presses a kiss to the crown of Nero's head before smoothing his hair back down with a fond smile. Yes, he is a stubborn brat. One that Vergil is immensely proud of and wouldn't likely be here without. Vergil doesn't say anything to it though, lowering his hand from Nero's hair to give him a few solid pats to his side.] And one that needs to not start winding himself up if he decides to stay here for the night unless he wants to be immensely cranky tomorrow because he stayed up too late.
[As if Vergil wasn't always exceptionally careful about not disturbing Nero when he woke up before him while they were still all crammed together in Vergil's apartment, and let Nero sleep in as late as he pleased.]
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Not that it puts a damper on any of his sass.]
Aww, gee, Dad. First time you've ever called me a brat...
[Why does he sound proud of it...?]
I'm slackin' if it took this long.
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Oh, it didn't, [he teases with a shake of his head.] The thought has been there for quite some time and you've done exemplary work to reinforce it. I just do not always say every thought that comes to my mind unlike someone else I could name.
[Vergil punctuates his statement with a rough pinch to Nero's absolutely not red cheek.]
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So you were holding out on me, then!
[He's not blushing! Nobody say he was blushing! They're lying!!!
He cackles and gently swats at Vergil's hand. The intention wasn't to come in here and roughhouse with him, but... a little bit won't hurt, right?]
Like I said. Nothing and nobody's gonna shut me up.
[He pushes with his feet to lean back on Vergil as hard as he can, then finally slips to flop with his head in his lap, as usual. He's sticking his tongue out when he lands. Kind of a miracle it's not accompanied with the middle finger, just for extra sass.]
How's that toast?
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Ah, there they are. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned all semblance of manners. [He releases Nero's chin and lets him be.] But I suppose I owe you an apology for doubting you. Your toast appears to have done the trick.
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And there's something he craves in just... the reassurance that comes with playful brattiness, roughhousing, teasing... disapproval that's not about his strength. Just about him acting like a bit of a shit because it's fun to tease his dad.
His tongue draws back into his mouth when Vergil lets him go, and at once he's back to being nearly 24 instead of 4.]
Great! I told you. It works every time.
[He takes the opportunity to reach up and muss Vergil's hair in turn, though it's a little more affectionate than it is taunting, somehow.]
No more bad dreams tonight.
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[Vergil smooths his hair back into place for all the good that it does when it will inevitably end up back in his eyes again come morning. Even now, a few rebellious loose strands fall out of place.]
No more bad dreams, [he echoes in agreement before there's light, repeated jabs to Nero's ribs.] Assuming you let me sleep at all tonight. This appears to be a recurring issue when I let you sleep in here.
[He uses the continued poking and prodding at Nero as a means of settling and laying back down himself without really having to completely move Nero off him entirely.]
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Jeez. You knock a few of those strict slicked-back strands loose and you can really see the resemblance between them.
Nero is astute enough to move this way or that, letting Vergil lie back without too much fuss.]
Good thing you ate your toast. I was gonna have to keep you up all night just in case.
[As for Nero, he looks extremely comfortable right where he is and shows no sign of departing.]
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[The petting of Nero's hair and allowing him to remain flopped on top of him like an occasionally wriggly weighted blanket likely somewhat undermines any potential notion there's anything serious behind the remark though. Vergil spares a glance down at Nero before looking up at the ceiling.]
[He doesn't say itβnot because he's concerned it wouldn't be well-received, but rather because he feels it isn't necessaryβbut he's a little glad Nero didn't leave him on his own. Well. Not a little. A lot, actually. But still, he's glad. As much as Vergil doesn't wish to particularly place his well-being on Nero's shoulders as his responsibility, Nero proved to be not just a good distraction for putting the nightmare out of his mind, but a comforting one. He's safe. He's himself. He's a mild pain in the ass and a little too smart with his mouth for his own good, but he... He cares. He cares a lot and perhaps more than he should or Vergil deserves from him, but he cares.]
[It's something Vergil is still working out for himself. The notion that people care. That it's okay to let them. He's not... Well, no, he's actually terrible at allowing for that. But he's been trying to let it happen more lately. He doesn't question it as much when Dante goes out of his way and does something considerate for Vergil. He tries not to rationalize the kind things Mizu does for him as being something rooted in her usual pragmatism. As much as he can, he tries not to bristle and go looking for thinly veiled insults when Nero wants to help. None of it is easy. He still slips up from time to time, and he knows his instinct will always be to lick his wounds in private than allow them to be witness to any sort of vulnerability or weakness. But he's trying. He's trying all the time to convince himself that he finally has everything that he's ever wanted.]
[Turning his head aside to rest his cheek against the pillow, Vergil lays there silently for a little while before he reaches a decision.]
I love you, too, Nero.
[It still feels like a risk to say. There's likely never going to be a scenario in which Vergil does not feel like he is tempting fate, and they are probably always going to be words that Vergil will want to draw back the moment they leave his mouth. But he knows he's not the best at clearly demonstrating it, and worse yet at receiving and recognizing it in return. So, regardless of how Nero reacts or what he saysβif he even says anything at allβor Vergil's own discomfort in saying it, he decided it's more important to acknowledge it. Because there have been and likely will be plenty of doubts and uncertainties in their relationship as father and son, but Vergil knows this should not be one of them.]
[So, he says it with no meandering preamble or confusing allusions. He learned his lesson with all of that a while ago, and offers the plain truth instead. What Nero does with it is entirely up to him, but it's his to have regardless. As it always should have been the moment he was conceived had Vergil not unwittingly withheld it from him by his decision to run. The guilt of that is not likely something that will leave Vergil anytime soon, but it's not where he places his attention right now. Right now, Vergil is with his son who made the conscious choice to stay even when he knew Vergil would not have taken any particular offense had he chosen otherwise, and is more grateful for that decision than he can likely ever express.]
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[The simple pleasures of annoying your dad. Nero doesn't think he'll ever get tired of savoring them.
He's about to get up and move to a more sensible position, maybe slide under the covers and settle in to actually fall asleep, but then Vergil says something he genuinely never expected to hear.
And like... look. He knows, on some level, that Vergil loves him. Parents are supposed to love their kids, and Vergil's gone above and beyond to prove that he wants to be the best father he's capable of being. He's said it, over and over again, how much Nero means to him and all the things he'd do to protect him. Even had trouble finding words to describe it. But if the idea of having a father who exists in his life is strange and new, the idea of hearing him say that he loves him is on a whole other level. Especially when that father is Vergil. Mr. Never Ever Vulnerable Under Pain of Death.
There's a moment where Nero just stares back at him with a disconcertingly blank, mystified look on his face. It might feel like an eternity, even though it's only a few seconds. It's the time it takes Nero to vividly recall what he almost said a little bit ago, to realize Vergil guessed it, to think he ought to just say it, to second-guess himself, and to repeat the process another six times before he finally gives any indication what he's thinking.
Yeah. Okay.]
Feels weird for us to even say it, huh? [From where they started to where they are now... that Nero can actually think it and mean it when he says] I love you too, Dad.
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[Besides, Vergil didn't say it for his own benefit. And he certainly didn't say it because he expects to hear it back. It's an important thing for Vergil to remind himself of that as Nero stares blankly as he processes. He said it because he felt it was important for Nero to hear it. Regardless of the outcome.]
[...Oh, but how pleased and warm does Vergil feel to hear Nero say it back.]
[Vergil is so good, so well-trained in tamping down on his reactions. He taught himself how to cut them off at the pass, push them all so far away until it nearly felt like the emotions were happening to someone else. He isn't nearly so aggressive with them these days, but he still maintains a tight control over his emotions. He cannot now, however. He tries, of course. It feels immediately foolish to try, of course, as the attempt is futile in the end, but instincts and habits die especially hard when they were what keep one going for as long as they have for Vergil.]
[He turns his blurry gaze away from Nero, but despite his best efforts, his smile is not lessened in any capacity. Vergil is privately grateful his bedroom is at least dark enough that it would be difficult for Nero to tell how much his face is flushing over how difficult it is not to smile. It is absurd how much he's smiling. Utterly ridiculous. But he cannot help himself. Not when he knows it's something he's earned, something Nero came to feel with enough time and work between them. Vergil has probably never been prouder of himself, certainly not as a father. He definitely hasn't been as grateful to Nero. Not as himself, in any case. He takes a breath before he speaks again.]
Come, [he says pushing down the other side of the blankets for Nero to get settled.] You should get some sleep.
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But that's kept to himself, and a little warm smile of his own. Nero would never in a million years make a crack about Vergil smiling, or his honest reactions to what he knows must be an important thing for him to hear. That's why he said it, after all. Because some things are better said out loud than left to implication. Especially when they both know Vergil would consider it presumptuous to even guess such a thing.
When Vergil moves the blankets he finally sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed, just enough to kick off his lounge pants and dress down to his boxers. Then he slides under the covers and settles in with his arms pillowed behind his head.]
I'll tell you a bedtime story, if you want. Comes with the package.
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If I want, he says. As if there's a choice and he won't begin pouting at me until sunrise if that's what it takes to make me change my mind.
[Never mind even if Nero somehow summoned the mightiest of pouts, it wouldn't likely deter Vergil from sleeping all that much. He managed eight years of sharing a bedroom with Dante. He could surely just roll over and manage a night of Nero attention-seeking out of a hope Vergil would eventually acquiesce.]
Go on. Tell your story. But you had best sleep afterward.
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Hey, it is a choice! That's why I asked. But now you're locked in.
[And he absolutely didn't have a story in mind. So he thinks a moment, tries to come up with something. And he ends up going down the path of "bedtime..."]
Once upon a time. There was a kid who lived in an orphanage. And he used to stay up late at night so he could sneak out and get into trouble... or find a good signal for his handheld to watch TV from the mainland.
[He smirks, pleased with the silly way he's phrased all this.]
One time, he wanted to watch a creepy monster movie he found. But he couldn't get a good signal no matter where he tried. So he waited until everyone was asleep, and snuck up into the old bell tower. It was dark and creepy and there were cobwebs everywhere... but he managed to get the signal, just enough to watch the movie.
And it scared the living shit out of him.
[Another laugh, recalling the memory.]
So by the time he ran back down the tower, footsteps creaking, noises everywhere, he was a total mess. But when the sister came to the dormitory door and saw him all covered in dust and cobwebs, snotty and crying his eyes out, all she did was take him by the hand and bring him to the kitchen for tea and toast.
And that was the last time the kid ever went up that belltower. Even if it did get the best signals in the whole orphanage.
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He really never went back?
[Vergil is at least willing to play along with how Nero's presented the memory.]
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[It's a funny story, even though it brings with it a bittersweet realization. Nero had to run to the dormitory where the nuns slept when he needed comfort. Sister Maria was kind and consoled him more than most of the others would, with her late night treats and attention. She was as good to him as she could have been. But there was no mother or father whose room he could infiltrate, whose bed he could crawl into when he was scared.
He cherishes these moments. But sometimes he does mourn that they couldn't come earlier. That that mischievous, dust-covered, sobbing little boy couldn't know that someday he would have them. Nobody should have to be alone when they're afraid. Especially not late at night.
The thought comes and goes quickly, and with it comes the sudden, unexplained urge to reach over and set his hand on Vergil's arm again, grasping his elbow. (Through the blankets, if need be.) Maybe it's affection. Maybe it's checking to see if he's still there, if he's real, if this isn't just a dream he's having himself. But the hand remains there and eventually gives a little squeeze.]
I'm right here if you need me.
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It was just a bad dream. [It's a reflex more than anything. Perhaps a poor one at that, he realizes a second too late after the words have already left his mouth, but a reflex all the same. He doesn't mean to be dismissive, and certainly not after everything Nero has gone out of his way to do for him tonight. Vergil reaches for the hand on his elbow, hoping he's quick enough to get ahead of any potential hurt feelings. Privately, he wishes he was better at this than he has the tendency to be, but he knows he doesn't necessarily have the time to dwell on it.] But you said as much yourself that we are in everything together. And it was...better. Not having to sit with it alone. Even if all it was in the end was a bad dream.
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He's even more pleased when Vergil makes, for him, a rather vulnerable admission.]
I'm glad. Even if it's just a bad dream, being alone with it sucks.
[With one side of his face smushed against the pillow, he offers a smile with the other side and tightens that squeeze on his elbow, one more time.]
Sleep good, Dad.
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[He rubs the back of Nero's hand lightly before stilling his hand, leaving and encouraging that light point of contact between them as he closes his eyes once more.]
Goodnight, dear child.
text; un: dante
how mad would you be if i got my hand stuck in a jar again?
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please be kidding
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or actually
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You know if you want my attention you can just ask for it
like "hey Nero you wanna go kill some shit" or
"hey Nero I found a cool record store do you wanna go check it out"
or like "hey Nero I found a new pizza place and I'd love to take you there my favorite nephew in the whole wide world"
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yeah?
i'll have to keep that in mind then :)
so what's up with my "favorite nephew" as you put it?
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nothin much, just been working out a lot
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well it's nice to have a goal. :)
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I mean like I prolly wont get the oportunity to do that most of the time but wouldn't it be sick if i took out a demon with a car
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holy fuck what if I put a sword on a car
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text; un: dante
want to do me a favor? :)
un: xBlackKnightx
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I mean yeah?
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pizza's an important ask ok?
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but yeah sure what you want on it, I know no olives
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pepperoni :)
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u want any soda or breadsticks or whatever??
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idk who ever wouldn't be but you know
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But I rigged up my relic to hook up to the TV and I've been watching a bunch of 90s wrestling and I just got to the 1996 world championship if u wanna watch with me.....
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( vergil watching wrestling. lol what a thought. )
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i wanna keep it forever :)
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He's a good sport..... I think it's growin on him though >:)
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and i say put up with fondly
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like this demon stuff comes with a lot of bullshit. a looooooooooooot
but we all put up with each other anyway, cuz we're family
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a backdated as heck text for kyrie arrival; un: Vergil
xBlackKnightx
who is this
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I was told a closing signature was unnecessary and that you would know the sender without it.
[Has he been misled?]
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dude it's less you didn't sign it and more I didn't know you knew how to use this thing lmao
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And that's not accounting for the mistakes in your preceding messages at all beyond your inability to use capital letters.
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If you were stupid, I would understand and say nothing of it. But you're not, and I know you know better. Therefore, it is laziness that drives you to communicate the way that you do. And if you think that I would accept that as an excuse without comment then you truly have mistaken me for someone else.
Will you be at the station or not?
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omg lighten up, will ya? It's a text message not my doctorol thesis. it's supposed to be quick, I'm not gonna give myself a headache proofreading the fuckin thing.
But hey now I know for sure it's you π
yeah I'll be there. If the surprise is a grammar handbook I'm gonna be pissed tho
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[But Vergil lets it go. There appears to be at least some vague attempt to meet him halfway at least. Vergil will satisfy himself with that for now.]
It's not, but you have certainly made Christmas easier to plan for this year.
I promise you will find the surprise well worth the walk to the station.
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when this dumbass starts to get sick
[So, it's not the hit or the trajectory, but rather that lack of response that stands out as unusual. Vergil's world spins with the strike and while he does not end up face-first in the dirtβhe has enough in him to at least still land comfortablyβhe does not surge forward and retaliate. Vergil blinks at Nero instead, waiting for the vertigo to pass. They've been at it for a while now, but he breathes a little harder and harsher. It's not quite as though he's out of breath or thoroughly exhausted, but training with Nero usually leaves him relatively physically unaffected by its end most days.]
So much for pulling your punches... [he mutters to himself. The ground still appears to be swaying, but Vergil simply uses Yamato to keep himself steadier when he rises back to his feet. Standing does not alleviate the lightheaded sensation, but he does not begin to sway or wobble when he opts to sheathe his blade for the moment. Vergil puts a hand to his forehead, bowing his head a little as he squeezes his eyes shut to remove the visual input out of the equation. He masks the move by running his hand through his hair, pretending to return any loosened strands back where they belong.] Not bad, but I won't let you do that again.
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Today, he's doing... fine enough. A few good hits, a few more dumb mistakes. But he's starting to learn his own potential, finally getting the hang of the new skills his blood grants him. And that means he can improvise-- Nero's absolute specialty when it comes to battle. Intense skill and masterful planning and extensive experience are all powerful tools in one's arsenal, but so is the ability to make up some wild shit that nobody will ever expect. This is how he manages to whip out a wing in midair, pluck Vergil out of their bladelocked clash, then sock him hard with the other wing, sending him to the dirt.
Yes, he is extremely proud of this, looking smugger than hell when he lands in front of Vergil. But he knows his father well enough by now to know there ought to have been a follow-up there. Even if he's not sure what, something has already struck him as "weird." The lack of retaliation, sure but also... is he... breathing heavy?]
If I did, I'd never hear the end of it from you. [Pull punches, that is. Vergil never does (or at least, never admits to it...) so why should he?
Red Queen's ready for more (Nero generally refrains from shooting bullets at his damn showoff of a dad, if only because it's a waste of bullets.) But Nero hesitates. It is that "weird" feeling that prevents Nero from rushing in for a follow-up while his father stands there... fixing his hair??]
You need a breather, old man? Did I hit you too hard?
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These training sessions wouldn't amount to much for you if one unexpected strike was all it took to make me yield.
[Acknowledging that aloud is where it begins to occur to Vergil that it's a bit odd the lightheadedness hasn't abated completely by now. Even if Nero had struck him hard enough to be the source for the sensation (which Vergil doesn't think he did if he gives it a bit of consideration), Vergil's natural healing factor should have put an end to the repercussions of the strike already. Vergil does not allow for this observation to slip into his expression, however, partially out of pride and partially because he does not want to spark some kind of anxiety in Nero over what is most likely a negligible matter. He's already hesitated. They both have. That's enough.]
[Vergil chooses to shake it off. He's persisted through far worse than anything Nero's done here today. A bit of dizziness is only momentarily disorienting. He can manage even if it doesn't show signs of easing up. He promised Nero the morning for this session, and Nero was going to get the whole of the morning from him. Vergil forces his breath to even out.]
There will be time for talk later. Remain focused on the task at hand, Nero.
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Hey, I'm focused. [He slings Red Queen back over his shoulder and plants his feet in a ready stance.] Square up, Pops.
[He watches Vergil like a hawk, waiting for him to make the first move. He's found that striking first himself generally ends in Vergil easily reading him and interrupting. So rather than immediately get stymied or play defense for long, he likes to leave himself open, then try to counter.]
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[Vergil moves himself into a ready position for just a moment before he surges forward. But his aim is not so direct a path. A flurry of mirage blades are made manifest and sling ahead of him to where Nero stands. (On those, Vergil does hold back for these training sessions. There's still force behind them, but they always shatter before they can pierce skin. It's one thing to bruise, another to cut.) They serve as distraction though as Vergil teleports to strike with a sheathed Yamato to take Nero out at the knees if he's not paying close enough attention. At least, that's the plan and what Vergil ultimately follows through on enacting. But it is with significantly less finesse and precision than Vergil anticipated that he does so.]
[In all his years, Vergil's speed has never bothered him. And yet that lightheadedness comes back in full force once he's come to an abrupt stop, and he feels his stomach do a flip. Something absolutely isn't right.]
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He draws Red Queen mid-flip and brings her down in a slam that misses Vergil, by design. It's more of a distraction so he can kick his dad's legs out from under him, an echo of the same move he just tried.]
cw: emeto
[Vergil is quick to move out of that position on his back, but not for the purposes of their sparring. Yamato lightly clatters on the ground beside him as Vergil rolls over and pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He's not sure if it's the lightheadedness or the coughing fit that ensued with all the air leaving his lungs, but Vergil's stomach abruptly upends all of its contents all the same.]
[When it's over, Vergil tentatively and slowly sits further back on his knees. One arm holds his stomach while he keeps the other firmly planted on the ground. He doesn't quite trust sitting all the way back just yet. Not while he's trying to catch his breath and the occasional cough escapes him. He closes his eyes as he focuses on evening out his breath.]
I'm fine... [he says almost reflexively either in response to something Nero said or preempting it. Vergil isn't entirely sure, and frankly doesn't care right this moment which it is. The point is that he does not need Nero working himself up over this. Something isn't right, but Vergil isn't in any sort of danger because of it and, most importantly, Nero had nothing to do with it. He just needs a moment at the least, and at the most, they're likely done sparring for the day.]
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Right in time to watch Vergil throw up.]
Holy fuck, Dad!
[Fucking hell!! Did he hit him THAT hard???
Red Queen hits the dirt alongside Yamato and Nero is immediately by his side, a hand on his shoulder.]
Are you okay? [Asked decisively after Vergil has already said he's fine. Because Nero didn't believe him.]
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I'm fine, [he says, firmly as he opens his eyes again. Vergil may not be willing to be so physically dismissive of Nero, but verbally? He can only temper that so much right now. Turning his head aside, Vergil spits. It's not enough to get the unpleasant taste off the back of his tongue, but it's better than nothing. He fully sits up, a little more confident that his stomach is closer to empty than not. With his now free hand, he pats the hand on his shoulder and says,] I just need a moment. That's all.
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Vergil expresses that he needs a moment, so after Nero slowly withdraws his hand. He puts out a finger in the "one sec" gesture and then heads over to his bag, which has been sitting off to the side since the spar started. Inside (along with ibuprofen and gauze) is his water bottle, which he brings over to Vergil and offers, crouching beside him.
And the only coherent thing he can put words to right now comes spilling out.]
Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you that hard.
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Nero, stop. [Being still now allows for Vergil to more easily hold Nero's gaze. Vergil looks at him with a furrow in his brow, his expression serious and firm. He doesn't want Nero blaming himself or apologizing. Even if he were solely responsible, Vergil wouldn't accept it.] Whatever this, you know I spar harder with others.
[Mizu and Vergil only hold back as far as avoiding anything that could kill the other. Dante and Vergil go until they both dread the thought of moving any longer that they are so tired and sore. Nero is more of an outlier in that regard. Vergil doesn't exactly take it easy on him, but neither does he demand Nero approach these training sessions with the same intensity as even Dante.]
[Vergil takes a swig of water to swish around in his mouth, turning his head aside to spit it out again before taking an actual sip.]
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Yeah, well. Wouldn't be the first time I did that to someone.
[Also if Vergil thinks that's going to discourage the concern entirely, he's wrong.]
Either way, we can call it if you're not feeling hot.
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That may be for the best, [he reluctantly agrees at little more than a mutter. Vergil glances away from Nero with a furrow in his brow, more frustrated than anything. He doesn't know what this is, but he knows that he's of no use or in a position to properly train Nero right now if he's that easily knocked aside. Vergil takes one last drink from the water bottle before passing it back to Nero.] Gather your things, child, and we will resume this another time.
[Once Nero has taken the water bottle from him, Vergil works on getting back to his feet. He manages without stirring up a threat of heaving (dry or otherwise) again and the motion is generally fluid as it ought to be, but there is a moment where he must subtly protect his balance by shifting a foot back once he's fully upright. It's not as disorienting as earlier at least and he only blinks once or twice with a mildly unfocused gaze before his attention is on Yamato.]
[...Which is down there...]
[...On the ground...]
[...]
[This is becoming tedious, Vergil decides with the furrow in his brow deepening further.]
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Nero recovers his backpack from where it's thrown off to the side, putting his water bottle away. He doesn't even need the pain meds or bandages today. Hell yeah, progress! He puts the strap over the opposite shoulder from Red Queen and makes his way back to Vergil, oblivious to his troubles.]
Okay. Let's go.
[You gonna... grab your sword there, Pops?]
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Give him a second! Don't rush him! Youths these days...][It would have been Vergil's preference that Nero was still busy with his bag. It was one thing to mask his unsteadiness getting back to his feet alone, but now there's the chance for scrutiny on his way down and up. Vergil supposes he could complain of his stomach still aching enough that he doesn't want to chance bending over and jostling what remains of the contents any further, but he rules it out immediately as an incredibly flimsy excuse. One that may also lead Nero back into being concerned about him and completely defeat the purpose of providing an excuse to avoid bending down to collect his blade.]
[There really is no way around this.]
[Never in Vergil's life has he been so concentrated on how exactly he bends down to pick something up off the ground. He stares at the Yamato, trying as best he can to block out any perceived motion that comes along with bending down for it. He bends at the waist, trying to find the compromise between what would be a natural bend and what he feels comfortable, letting the bend in his knees lower him the remainder of the way. Vergil keeps his breathing even, drawing his attention to that as he gets his hand around Yamato before bringing himself back upright. And he manages to do alright with that as well. There's no sway or wobble. No real hesitation that would belie how much everything is spinning.]
[Until he takes the turn to walk and leave a little too quickly, that is. Vergil cannot help the drifting feeling that comes with that or the way he automatically and quickly has to catch himself to keep from tipping too far that he's in danger of falling.]
[...Damn.]
[To Vergil's credit, he does not freeze even as he becomes distinctly aware that there's absolutely no way that Nero would have missed that slight stumble. He simply begins walking forward, stubbornly denying the existence of aforementioned stumble by drawing no further attention to it.]
We may have lunch once we arrive home if you do not mind it a little early today.
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Nero doesn't think much of the invisible production that goes into Vergil picking something up from the ground, nor does he notice. He does see the stumble though, and steps up to walk alongside his father with a familiar crease of his brow. Suspicion. Also worry, Vergil, tough shit!]
I don't. But you sure you're ready for food? I always feel bleh for a while after I blow chunks.
[Are you feeling okay, old man...?]
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Must you phrase it like that?
[He shakes his head a little before looking ahead.]
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Would you prefer "hurl?" "Spew?" "Toss your cookies?" "Technicolor burp?" "Drive the big white bus?"
[He spares him there, but there is the impression he knows dozens of these.]
Are you at least feeling any better?
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After hearing all of that? No. I don't believe I am, [he says, dryly before giving a... Well, calling it a more honest answer seems dishonest when it's not the truth. But it's not another comment about Nero's vocabulary at least.] I told you I'm fine, Nero. It was just a moment of dizziness and nausea. It's passed.
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It's passed, you say, but you still look wobbly.
[He makes no accusations... just an observation.]
Maybe you better take it easy when we get home. Kyrie and I can cook dinner.
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I am not wobbly, [he says, snapping a little in the process. If Nero were still under the impression that Vergil hadn't taken it as an accusation, that likely clarified that for him easily enough.] I know how to manage myself and am capable of determining what it is I need without your unnecessary input.
Now, for the last time, I am fine. You may end your prodding and questioning.
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Excuse the fuck out of me, old man.
[But alas Vergil, for he is not dissuaded.]
If I was the one throwing up and stumbling, you'd be all over me trying to make sure I'm okay. I'm gonna do the same for you whether you like it or not.
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I would do that because that is part of my responsibilities as your father, Nero. You heal and recover very nearly the same as a human would. Illness and injury pose a greater threat to you, and I could not possibly sit idly by while you are clearly suffering.
[And it may be tempting to throw that back at Vergil as the argument for issuing such concerns now, but he's quick to cut that off at the pass.]
I appreciate that you care, but unless you happen to find me on death's door again somehow, there is little reason to exercise such concern.
[Throwing up and being a little dizzy are hardly anything compared to what Vergil has survived through in the past, and absolutely do no merit alarm in his opinion. He's not at some great risk and he is not suffering. There's simply no need for such an overreaction from Nero.]
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All this because the guy can't cop to having a little vertigo...]
I'm not a little kid. We're both adults. I get to look after you the same as you'd look after me.
[And FURTHERMORE...]
Why? What "little reason?" Do you guys not get sick or something?
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I cannot speak for your uncle. I only know that the last time I can recall being ill was before my mother died, and I've little memory of it.
[It's not likely that Nero would exist if he had been prone to illness after that, but that is a fact he keeps to himself.]
Severe and significant injury has only ever posed a threat to my physical well-being for nearly forty years. And while I will concede that you struck well today, you haven't the power to do that much harm to me in a single strike as of yet. So, there is no reason to be worried.
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[But that is certainly not the point of contention here, not really. Not the one he's going to let Vergil wriggle out of the discussion with. Yes, he does notice how he tries to do that from time to time.
But at the same time, he's not going to sit here and argue with him about whether or not he's feeling okay. If it's such a big damn deal he'll take Vergil's word for it.
So after a long, suspicious glare, Nero rolls his eyes and turns around to keep walking.]
Fine. Whatever you say. But don't get your panties in a twist over an honest question.
[One more Look back over his shoulder for good measure.] I'll worry about you if I damn well want to.
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[And a good thing, too. It's questionable he would have been able to walk and talk at any great length for long. Vergil unfolds his arms after a bit of walking, opening his chest up a bit as the air he inhales feels a little...thinner somehow. It does very little to alleviate the sensation. Even with as leisurely as their pace ultimately is, Vergil starts to feel increasingly winded. Vergil finds himself wanting to slow down, but he utterly refuses and keeps the same pace he has been. It's not long after that he begins to cough. It's not the retching coughs that came earlier, but a much drier cough.]
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But you know, maybe he is being a little overbearing... he'd hate it too if he randomly puked and he had Vergil hovering all over him. Though he's hardly hovering, asking if he's okay twice and saying he maybe ought to rest when they go home... like what, does he got a hot date tonight? Gonna go swordfight with Mizu some more? Mizu will probably be delighted he's under the weather if it means he can get a few good stabs in. God damn, is this family fucking weird.
Vergil is slowing down behind him, so Nero does too. Then he hears the cough. Stops. Turns around. And gives Vergil this absolutely withering look of concern in lieu of asking if he's okay.]
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Oh for the love of... [he mutters at that look he's receiving, rolling his eyes and folding his arms.] You might as well say it if you're going to look at me like that.
Or might we move on and return home?
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[Okay now he IS kind of being a shitty brat, but the last vestiges of offense at Vergil's earlier tone have now been worked out of his system. He's over it.
He shakes his head and turns around to walk again, albeit slower and at a pace Vergil can keep up with.]
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[He is fine. And he refuses to be treated like he's a moment's notice from collapsing.]
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But okay, sure. If he's feeling fine enough to rush ahead like a petulant little shit, who's Nero to tell him to stop? He just shakes his head and keeps going at the same pace as before, now free to watch his father from behind.]
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[Vergil can only mask so much even without scrutiny. The vertigo, he can hide well enough in motion with controlled steps, but just how much he feels he's exerting himself right now? Vergil can only do so much to keep his breathing even before that sensation of not getting enough air has him trying to take a deeper breath. Vergil pushes himself though. He's pushed through worse than this. Much worse.]
[That does not stop the pit of dread in his stomach thoughβwhich seems to be determined to remain somewhat cramping and uncomfortableβat the prospect of walking the entire way home. If he's already feeling this wiped, he is going to be laid out by the entire walk. And more or less proving Nero's point that he's not fine. He clenches his jaw, but he does not yet yield. Even with as much as he just wants to sit down and stop moving, Vergil cannot bring himself to do it.]
[He coughs again, this time the fit longer and stronger. Before, he could have written it off in the absence of any other symptoms as just having swallowed wrong or something similar. This fit, however, clearly tickles in the back of his throat and he has to stop walking. Vergil doubles over where he stands. The motion is dizzying, but the coughing has more of his attention at the moment to be concerned about that.]
[That and well, now that he has stopped walking, he can feel how distinctly exhausted he is from that alone.]
That damned Fox... [he growls between coughs.]
[Because he cannot think of any reason why he feels like this. He doesn't get ill. He's never been unable to push through fatigue and exhaustion. He barely knows what it is to be sore. And yet...]
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Nero waits for the coughing fit to really escalate before he steps up to him, setting a hand on his shoulder. He's not gonna say "I told you so." What's the point in rubbing it in and making this worse and more embarrassing than it must already be for him?
But like also... they ain't walking all the way back home when Vergil can barely walk.]
Come on, old man. [His tone is gently pressing, not mocking or smug.] Let's get home.
Is a portal out of the question?
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[For all that he doesn't really know what to do with it, anyways.]
[Historically, if Vergil found himself injured beyond what his healing ability could more immediately handle, he was always left on his own to manage the situation. He had to get himself somewhere safe. He had to vaguely tend to his wounds with his limited knowledge and resources. He had to remain vigilant for signs of a follow-up attack and be prepared to defend himself. It was always down to Vergil whether he lived or died.]
[Oh, sure. When he was still a young child and adolescence had not changed the interpretation of his condition from helpless innocent to suspicious miscreant, he perhaps could have hidden himself with some well-meaning family of humans. But there was a difference between using them for warm meals and a roof over his head for a few nights, and relying upon them to care for him. Even soon after his mother's death, Vergil doesn't think he would have tolerated it well despite how much he secretly craved it.]
[So, it's foreign still to acknowledge that he physically is not perfectly fine, and stranger yet to accept anything remotely close to help. Asked for or otherwise. His time as V had not changed that, and neither had that night Nero stayed with Vergil after Vergil had a nightmare.]
[He feels a small relief that Nero does not make the suggestion of carrying him. At the very least, Nero appears to be granting Vergil his dignity and still allowing him to broadly handle this.]
I should still be able, [he says with a slight nod. If it were under his own demonic power, Vergil doesn't know that he would be able to do it if walking has wiped him out as much as it has. But the portals are under the power of Yamato, not his. And he should yet still possess the strength now to wield it for that purpose if he managed it while he was dying.]
[Vergil doesn't hop to opening a portal though, standing there a moment to let himself breathe and allow the coughing to fully settle first. With his free hand, Vergil reaches for Nero's shoulder and pulls himself back upright by it, allowing Nero to help as he wills. The world spins again, but he leans some of his weight onto his son to maintain his balance. Vergil gives it a moment to lessen before releasing Nero and reaching to draw Yamato.]
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It's a relief when Vergil doesn't start griping about it or trying to argue that he's fine to make the long walk back home when he's now stumbling and on the verge of hacking up a lung.
He's dreading the response to this, but has to put it out there...]
I can try too, if need be. [But for the moment he lets Vergil do it himself with no further insistence or comment.
He's letting him handle it for now... but Nero is not above whacking him on the head and fireman-carrying him home to give him the Tombstone into bed.]
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[But now is not that time to be so prudent. There are more immediate matters for them to concern themselves with than that. Vergil simply nods to the suggestion, not commenting on the merits of Nero trying one way or another. Straightened out, he takes a few steps away from Nero to provide himself with space to work.]
[Yamato has never felt quite so heavy in his hands before. Not even a child can he recall it feeling like this. Still, he draws the blade, slicing the air to draw open the portal. Little criticism can be given to his form. Even if Vergil's swings are slower to avoid potentially setting him off-balance again, he maintains his form. Tempting as it is to hold his breath until success or failure makes itself known, Vergil continues to match and maintain his breath as something alongside his movement. He draws a long, slow exhale until Yamato is fully sheathed, not allowing his posture to slack until the portal opens before him as expected.]
[He looks back to Nero, and waits for him rather than immediately stepping through.]
It would behoove you to learn one day, but it is not necessary today.
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There's also the fact it used to be his arm now, which... is weird, and actually way weirder than Nero even imagines it is. But that's beside the point.
He watches Vergil open the portal, frowning when he can see how much effort it is. The fucker didn't struggle with it so much when he was staggering out of the garage with Nero in a bleeding heap behind him. He must really be sick. But like he said, does Vergil even get sick? He'd muttered something about the damn Fox... was this her doing again?
Nero just nods at his assertion and steps through the portal. Shit will never feel less weird, but it's undeniably convenient at a time like this. He reappears in their driveway on the other side, and once Vergil has joined him he offers him that shoulder again.]
C'mon. You should sit and rest for a bit. You want some tea, or like a ginger ale?
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Ginger tea is fine, [he says, heading for the front door. Even if he's still perhaps a bit too prideful and stubborn to let Nero help him walk, Vergil doesn't adopt his usual pace and takes it a bit easier in getting there.] If you're feeling adventurous and wish for some yourself, you may add a squeeze of lemon and a bit of honey to the pot.
[He doesn't call Nero directly out for the faces he makes at some of the tea blends Vergil drinks, but that doesn't mean he doesn't notice how much Nero is trying very hard not to make any of them when he knows Vergil is looking in his direction.]
And if you are so dedicated to treating me as an invalid, you ought to return some of my books to the library before the end of today. [Because he had plans today, but it's clear that Nero will not allow for any of them.] Just bring the stack in my room to me and I will separate the ones that need to be returned from those I am keeping for a while longer.
And extend an apology to Mizu for my absence if you happen to cross paths.
[Since those plans are similarly tossed out the window now.]
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Even he he follows it up with an absolute load of self-pity guilt shit, which makes Nero verbally scoff.]
Oh, shut up. Treating you like an invalid. Don't be such a drama queen.
[He closes the door behind them. His backpack gets tossed to one side of the doorway. Red Queen is delicately slid off his back and placed on the other, like an umbrella.]
It's not anybody's fault you're sick. Sucks, man! But what, are you gonna go to the library like this? Or be in any shape for Mizu?
[He claps Vergil on the shoulder as he passes by, on the way to the kitchen.]
Just take it easy. I'll take your books back, you take a nap. Maybe you'll sleep it off and feel better after.
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I don't nap.
[Which is less about Vergil being particularly stubborn and more just a statement of fact. Vergil's sleeping habits have not changed since they moved into the house from his studio apartment. He sleeps when he must, but he limits that to sleeping at night. He gets the minimum amount required. Nothing more, nothing less.]
[But if his suspicions that this is the Fox's doing are at all correct, he doubts very much that any amount of sleep will alleviate it. There will inevitably be some other kind of trick to curing what ails him, and it's most likely deeply unrelated to any sort of medical intervention. Most likely he needs to confess some deep dark secret or complete a random act of kindness or some other such interpersonal nonsense to appease her.]
[Vergil sits on the couch, using Yamato to control his descent to sitting. He's not really in any danger of collapsing, but he doesn't want to provide any impression that he's close to doing so. It feels much better to be sitting and he must stifle the relieved sigh at being off his feet.]
If you do happen to see Mizu, I do not particularly care what excuse you provide, but do not mention of any of this to him, [he says, moving Yamato to rest against the arm of the couch nearby. There's a small beat before he adds a quieter,] Please.
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[There come the sounds of clinking and cabinets closing as Nero goes digging for the tea. The sink runs as he fills the kettle with water, then a click and a clunk as he places it on the burner and cranks the heat up high.
Nero then comes out to the couch, but doesn't sit. He leans over the back beside where Vergil is seated, resting his chin on his fist as he studies his poor, ill, pleading father.
His voice takes on that gentler tone again. It's the one he uses when Julio or one of the other boys starts getting outrageously fussy. He is not ever going to tell Vergil that.]
Dad, there's nothing wrong with not feeling well. Why would Mizu hold it against you?
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That's notβ... Iβ [It's with a huff that he comes to fold his arms and looks off towards the fireplace. Vergil purses his lips to keep himself from continuing until he can manage to speak without sputtering again.] Just do as I ask, Nero.
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[He doesn't really intend to pry, either. Didn't know it was such a touchy thing to leave Vergil actually sputtering about it.
And in the interest of not prying, he tries to change the subject before it seems like he might be.]
Listen. [He sets one hand squarely atop Vergil's head, ruffling his hair in a familiar manner.] If you want me to fuck off, I will. But being sick sucks ass, and you shouldn't have to deal with it by yourself. I wanna help.
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[Nero presents it as a binary choice, and Vergil supposes it is. Either he allows Nero to help or he denies him. (Although, who is to say that the stubborn child will not still force the issue even if Vergil says he does not want any help?]) Vergil does not truthfully know what he wants. Glaring at them as though the answer might present itself if he glares long and hard enough, his hands curl into light fists in his lap. Everything within him loathes the idea of allowing himself any sort of dependency upon anyone else. It bristles and goes on the offense immediately, ready to do whatever it might take for him to hide away until this illness passes. But a part of him... A part of him knows the promises he's made to Nero about not handling things alone. It also knows how that night wasn't nearly as long or terrible as it could have been when Nero stayed with him after her a nightmare.]
I've looked after myself for nearly forty years. There was no one else. [Part of him wants to be uncharitable and say no one ever wanted to be there, but he knows that's not true. Vergil never gave anyone the opportunity to try. He never asked them to stay, and he always ran. And then he was so far removed from even himself that... But regardless still of the reasons why no one was ever there to look after him, Vergil was still alone.] Even if there had been, they could not have done anything.
[They would have died. And then Vergil would have as well. Simple as that.]
I'm fine on my own. [He tightens his fists in his lap, pursing his lips.] But if you wish to make yourself useful, I am not exactly in a position to stop you.
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It makes sense, and it isn't far off from what Nero guessed might be the issue. Vergil spent so long alone, dealing with everything alone, he's terminally unable to back down from that position of independence and self-reliance. And when other people notice he's vulnerable or worse, point out to him that he's vulnerable-- by offering to help, perhaps-- it feels like an attack.
He can kind of relate, honestly. Nero used to be similar, isolating himself, insisting on working alone whenever possible. But after a certain point he was never really left to his own devices. He had Credo, or Dante, or Kyrie. Always, always Kyrie. But it can't be easy to break oneself out of that mindset.
Somehow refraining from going for the hair-ruffle again, he lets out a soft sigh and stands up again. Just another knot of his father's demeanor he's gonna try to untie, slowly and gently.]
I know you're fine on your own. But you don't have to be, if you don't want to be for a while.
[He leaves it at that for the moment, turning to head to Vergil's room to grab those books he was talking about before the tea gets ready. And honestly, he's not gonna get any better agreement from Vergil than "I'm not in a position to stop you," because aid is a thing being done unto him that he must suffer rather than anything he'll feel comfortable welcoming.
So... that means he's helping then! Great!]
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[He wouldn't be here if that child hadn't protected and carried him through to the finish line nearly two years ago by Vergil's measure now. It's simple fact.]
[By the time Nero emerges with the books, Vergil has removed his boots and tucked his legs beneath him on the couch. It's about as relaxed as Vergil tends to sit on the couch. He looks over to Nero when he hears his approaching footfalls.]
Did you get them all?
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[He... thinks he got them all. Vergil's room is, by his estimation, about 75% covered in books. Nero grabbed all the ones that appear to be from the library, with the stickers and spines and everything, and it takes all four of his arms to carry them out into the living room in four huge stacks.
One wing sets down its stack, then the other. Then they vanish as Nero lowers to the coffee table and sets down the other two stacks.]
I'm gonna have to rent a truck to bring these all back.
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[He shifts in his seat, putting his feet back on the floor so he can sit on the edge of the couch, closer to the coffee table. He takes some of the books off the first stack into his lap and begins with his neat little piles. One stack on the floor for those that will be returned and a stack on the couch beside him for those he's keeping.]
[...As he's sorting, he turns a light shade of pink as he realizes the trashy romance novel Oleandra insisted he read still hasn't been returned. It is quickly shoved into the middle of the return stack where it will hopefully remain unnoticed. He thought he returned it weeks ago now, but it would seem it got lost among the rest. Perhaps he ought to take more time to go through the books in his room more often to avoid situations like this in the future. He moves on to continue sorting.]
If it would be easier for carrying the books, the bags I use for the farmer's market are in the kitchen. They should hold them easily enough.
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[Nero waits patiently as Vergil sorts through his books. He takes one off the top of the return stack, looking at it curiously and opening it up. On the first page, his face scrunches up slightly. The scrunching increases as he works his way down the page. Finally he snaps it shut and returns it to the pile, shaking his head. Is that even in English?
He turns a similar shade of pink, hoping Vergil didn't just notice that.]
If you're not too dizzy, you could get some reading in. [He doesn't need to tell Vergil that, really, but it's a diplomatic suggestion for something he might do while he's under the weather.] Catch up those 17 or 18 books you're behind on...
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If that is to be my aim then you should take a list of books to check out when you go, [he says without looking up, remaining otherwise focused on his task.] Otherwise, I fear I will run out.
[He pauses on one of the books. Its cover gives away that it's a far more modern novel than Vergil's usual fare, and one look into the pages will find it not written with words that fell out of favor decades if not centuries ago with clear, direct syntax. Looking up, Vergil holds it out to Nero.]
You may wish to keep this one separate and check it out for yourself if they lack an audio version. You may find the protagonist a kindred spirit given his equally foul mouth.
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[He's probably about to make another crack when Vergil hands him the book. He looks a little surprised but takes it, looking it over. Then he opens up to the first page and skims the text, mouthing the words silently as he gets to the bottom without any severe face scrunching.]
What is it? Did you read it? [He glances up at Vergil curiously.]
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It is a spy thriller. It was featured as a recommended novel by a member of the library staff. The cover and title looked a bit more like a movie poster, so I thought you might like it. I took the liberty of reading it first just in case it didn't live up to first impressions. I hope you don't mind. I just know you find some mysteries to plod along and didn't want to waste your time with it if it didn't suit you after all. But there's enough action and twists that the novel keeps a quick pacing. I believe you'll find it exciting until the end, and may perhaps even make a few guesses at the truth as you read.
[Vergil isn't exactly winded by how much he speaks, but he feels that shortness of breath from earlier. He lets out a harsh little exhale as he continues placing books in their appropriate piles. Talking a lot and with the sort of passion that always comes out of Vergil when he starts talking about anything literary appears to be just as much of a potential trigger for his symptoms as overexerting himself with physical activity.]
[Irritating, to say the least. It's not as though Vergil really talks all that much to begin with...]
Nero, would you mind bringing me a glass of water as well when you bring out the tea?
[He will likely need it once the tea is gone.]
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There is a sweet, genuine affection in the smile he cracks as he turns pink and glances away, setting the book aside in its own pile.] Sounds really cool. Thanks. I'll check it out.
[He nods to the affirmative regarding the water. And in fact, the kettle is just about to boil, so Nero ducks off to the kitchen to take care of it.
He returns a few minutes later with the tea in the pot, two teacups, and a large glass of ice water, all of which he carefully sets apart from the book piles.]
There you go. This oughta help for sure.
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Assuming you did not over-steep it this time.
[What might seem like a critical remark is actually a gentle tease at some of Nero's early attempts at brewing tea for Vergil. Although really, who was the one to still choke it down to avoid hurting the other's feelings? Arguably, that one is the bigger fool of the two.]
[Vergil finishes with the handful of books he's brought to his lap before he reaches for the tea.]
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Vergil will also find that he did not add the lemon and honey, knowing Vergil would probably prefer it straight.]
Kyrie was gonna go shopping today. When she's back later she's gonna want to make you soup. Fair warning... it'll be the best soup you've ever had.
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Let's see how I do with tea before introducing soup...
[Right now, he cannot say the thought of eating something particularly appeals to him regardless of what it is or how good it tastes. The cramping in his stomach has subsided enough that he doesn't feel nearly so in danger of vomiting again, but he is not keen on agitating his stomach again further.]
[He takes a sip of his tea.]
Could you perhaps convince her to wait until tomorrow if I do not feel hungry today? I imagine it would be upsetting to her if after I ate, I were to "blow chunks" as you so delicately put it. [And Vergil will not be in the mood to offer reassurances to her. At least, that is the implicit argument he is trying to make with this.] I promise I will try to eat it then if I am not feeling able to eat today.
[Vergil carefully frames it around the matter of his stomach and hunger because they are factors. But the real issue is that Kyrie can be... Well, to put it delicately, a lot. She feels a lot of emotions and quite intensely, and Vergil doesn't know what to do with half of them on a good day. Vergil does not know how much he is up for after already having to navigate Nero's concern to have Kyrie pile hers on as well. Especially when he knows how delicate her feelings are and how utterly indelicate he is in turn. It's not a good combination, and it would be wise for Nero to play a bit of interference if Vergil is not up for it today.]
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[Nero has a seat on the couch beside him, careful not to upset the books.]
She's not gonna forcefeed you or do a bedside vigil or anything. She'll just want to help if she can. Though nowhere near as determined as me.
[A wry, knowing smile. Kyrie will be wary and cautious about being naggy or pushy with Vergil. Nero, on the other hand....]
You can just say "no thank you." She'll understand. If you're content, she can breathe easy.
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[Yes, he knows he's inviting in all of Nero's preaching about the virtues of his girlfriend by saying as much. Even a compliment as small as that can inspire several minutes effortlessly. But it is a statement of fact that Kyrie is kind, too. How else should someone whose immediate thought was to repay him even before she'd even begun to properly warm up because described?]
Although I believe you underestimate her persistence.
[It's true that Kyrie would not likely do well with Vergil's more foul moods. Any sort of irritability from him, a forceful or unkind word, and she's likely to not just fold, she will outright crumble. But there was no amount of telling her that it was unnecessary to repay him meant she was going to let what he did for her in Wintermute and bringing her home to Nero go unanswered. Were she not so determined in her own right, Kyrie likely would not have lasted as Nero's girlfriend for long. How could she with as stubborn as he is?]
That said, if either of you attempt a bedside vigil at any point, child, you will find yourself to be the one in need of it.
[It is largely a hollow threat in that Vergil would not actually follow through on it. But the point of avoiding a big production about this mystery illness remains a true one nonetheless. Making Vergil tea and soup, and being willing to exchange his books at the library are enough and already more than he's accustomed to or finding comfortable to tolerate. He takes another sip of his tea before setting it aside to resume sorting his library books. He's a little over halfway at this point, so he may as well concentrate efforts on finishing.]
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[Vergil is spared from further gushing by that simple statement, for once. Nero could go on and on about how Kyrie once saw he was working in the training yard with a cold, and insistently shuffled him off to his dorm to rest, where she brought him fresh fruit and tea and a stack of comic books he had no idea she owned or where she acquired them. Once he was out of the orphanage she was the only one who ever showed her concern for his personal well being-- apart from Credo, who that same day had given him a side-eye and said "you should stop for the day and go rest," then continued on down the line. That was the way he did concern.
Uh. Anyway.
He laughs at the threat, picturing the mental image of a vexed, frustrated Vergil trying to strangle Nero through his vertigo and coughing fits.]
Okay. But if you start zoning out and quoting Keats, I'm gonna do what I gotta do. Deal?
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If I am dissociating and quoting Keats, the matter has truly turned dire and I doubt I will be capable of any sort of protest at that point even if I do still possess enough awareness to object, [he says with a slight shake of his head as he places the next book in his lap on the keep pile. He's already read it once, but if he's to be cooped up for any length of time, he may not mind reading it again. He then offers his more explicit, playful agreement in Nero's preferred vernacular.] Deal. Whatever you feel is necessary, you may do.
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Also: "dissociating" = "zoning out." Noted.
Chuckling at his father's slangy agreement, he puts out a hand for a fistbump. This... may or may not end with him sheepishly recovering the hand a few seconds later.]
How many books can you read in a day, anyway?
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[Vergil very lightly bumps his knuckles against Nero's before resuming his task. Hopefully, he got it right and did not just make a fool of himself. Vergil is quick to return to his books, his complexion perhaps a touch pinker for it.]
It depends on their length and how long I can go without some form of interruption, [he says to Nero's question, giving him a brief look that indicates yes, Nero is one such interruption.] But I would say three would be the lower end, five on the upper end.
[So, he averages three to four.]
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Nero's eyes widen substantially at the answer. Which does explain these absolutely ridiculous piles of library books.]
Three in a day? Fucking hell, you read fast. I haven't read three books since I got here.
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Yes, well. [Vergil clears his throat a little and looks back at the books he's sorting.] I enjoy reading...
[He does not have much by way of hobbies otherwise. There is only ever so much to do with gardening and without necessarily a direction given towards cooking, he's a bit more...listless with that. So, reading it is. As it always has been. As he told Nero, he had a bookshelf like the one in his room now as a child, but the difference that it was actually full of his own books. He'd read so many of them cover to cover several times.]
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[It's good there's a library close by that can feed that voracious habit of his. Just makes Nero wish he was a little better at it himself. Though he fully intends to sit down and push through that book Vergil picked out for him, come hell or high water. Maybe even when he gets back from dropping the books off.
It, uh... is not going to be a one-sitting thing for him, most likely.]
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I suppose I am better off not asking if you're only just now figuring that out, [he says, the joke being at his expense given just how much reason he's provided Nero to think him otherwise. Not that he believes any of this to truly be a reflection of his intelligence, anyways. The most that can actually be said is that he is well-read and is making up for a tremendous amount of lost time with the library at his disposal.] Your uncle doesn't understand why I frequent the library so much instead of owning the books myself. The question isn't entirely unreasonable considering how modest my collection is now compared to what I owned during my childhood, but I believe you can see why it's best I continue making use of the library.
[Even if he owned only a fraction of the books he's read since coming to Folkmore, he wouldn't have had the ability to walk or move around in his studio apartment by the time Nero and Dante joined him. And at this point, in the house, they most certainly would have escaped containment from his bedroom and overtaken much of the living room.]
[There is also the small matter that he will not be able to take any of these books with him when they leave this realm eventually. Vergil has spent most of his life unattached to objects, and he would like to remain as such until he can actually enjoy a true degree of permanency.]
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Yeah, it's better this way. No interventions. No coming home to find you crushed under a stack of books the size of a building...
[He looks at a few more of the books from the stacks as Vergil works through them. Opens to the first page and skims the text... sometimes nodding, sometimes making a face and shaking his head before quickly putting them back in the stack.]
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There, [he says, placing the last book in the pile to be sent back to the library.] That's all of them that need to be returned.
[From his "keep" pile, Vergil selects one of the books before reaching for his tea again. He tucks his legs back underneath him on the couch, settling back to where he was before when Nero first brought out the small mountain of books. He doesn't have any interest in lying about in bed, but imagines Nero is going to insist he stay put. So, he might as well have something to keep him occupied while Nero is out.]
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Vergil finishes sorting the stacks and Nero sighs a bit at just how many there are. No, it's nothing he can't handle... particularly with four arms. But it's also not gonna be the quick, easy errand he expected.
He's not about to make a big deal out of it. Nothing that would discourage Vergil from sitting the fuck down and getting some fucking rest while he's sick.]
Okay. I'll drop these off for you. You want anything from the market while I'm out?
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I haven't a need for anything personally, and the kitchen should be well-stocked. I went to the farmer's market only a few days ago.
[But if that isn't the case, Kyrie will surely let Nero know sooner rather than later. With Vergil out of the rotation of people to make meals for the foreseeable future, he imagines she will volunteer to pick up the slack while Nero is worrying about Vergil. Which Vergil knows that boy is going to do even if Vergil happens to be the most compliant possible patient.]
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[That's a joke. He hopes it's taken as a joke. Not entirely certain it will be but, hey...
With the help of his shopping bags, Nero manages to pack up more of the books without having to resort to superpowers of any sort. It is, however, more books than any normal person could comfortably carry, made featherlight by his strength.
He departs then, leaving Vergil to his own devices for round about an hour.]
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[It's only a few minutes ultimately that he spends pondering this condition in Nero's absence. With little ability to investigate himself right now, he sets it aside to read instead. By the time Nero returns, Vergil is more or less exactly where Nero left him. He occupies the same corner of the couch, but has left a leg extended on the couch itself. At some point, he poured himself a second cup of tea, but it's since been forgotten and left to go cold while the glass of water Nero brought him remains untouched. It's not some form of childish protest, however, that he's neglecting any further liquid intake. He's nearly a hundred pages deep already into his novel, and it's likely clear from how he does not look up from the book in his hands or say anything by way of greeting that he is merely engrossed rather than being particularly stubborn.]
[At the very least, no aerobics happened and he stayed put.]
[Once Nero is a couple steps into the house, he finally speaks albeit somewhat absentmindedly.]
Did you manage alright without the truck?
[He finishes the page before finally looking over to Nero.]
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[Nero is carrying fewer books than he left with, by a good margin. But he's not empty-handed as expected. He walks up to the couch and sets a book bag with expertly-stacked titles alongside it.]
Whole bunch of your holds were ready, so I checked them out for you. This oughta last you... [He pretends to be doing math in his head.] Three days?
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I'll try to stretch it out to four, and give your back more time to recover. [Vergil shifts and moves on the couch to provide Nero with room to sit, tucking his knees close so he can rest his current book against them with a single hand. He's tempted to say that Nero didn't have to do that, but it's a foolish thing to point out something so obvious. Nero didn't have to go to the library in the first place, never mind picking up some of Vergil's holds. He did it anyway. Because that's the sort of person that he is.] Thank you, Nero.
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That smile, though. Man, it's worth all the headaches and hoops sometimes just to see his dad smile at him like that.
It's a moment before Nero actually sits. He goes to the kitchen first to get a glass of water for himself. Makes a detour to kick off his shoes. Then he circles back around the couch with one more book in hand-- the one Vergil mentioned that he might like, which he checked out himself this time.
He flops on the couch next to Vergil and makes himself comfortable, showing every intention of settling in to read.]
Still dizzy? Are you feeling any better?
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[Vergil glances up, and ultimately does a slight double-take when Nero settles onto the couch. Nero's gotten past most of his self-consciousness about how he reads. So, the sight of him with a book or willingness to read in Vergil's presence isn't unheard of these days. Nero's selections, however, tend to be among the books Beatrice loved or one of Vergil's books of poetry. They're books he can only tolerate in small bursts as such, and Nero's enjoyment of them is at times limited. (Which is all well and good when Nero is most likely reading them for the sake of a connection between himself and his parents, not necessarily for his entertainment.) Thus, it's more happenstance than anything that Vergil comes across Nero reading. Nero sitting down with Vergil with the intention of reading himself (and reading a recommendation Vergil made, no less) is a far more novel experience.]
[And a pleasing one at that. Not that Vergil's minded the hours upon hours of wrestling and movies he's chosen to watch with Neroβhe's actually gotten more invested in both than he thought he would in the beginningβbut Vergil possesses far more limited hobbies for Nero to choose from, and he's not ignorant enough to believe that reading wouldn't occupy a fairly low position on Nero's list of preferred activities in general.]
Hm? [As it turns out, Vergil was a little distracted by his silent marveling at Nero choosing to read with him.] Oh. Yes, I feel fine right now.
The dizziness was only occurring when I moved too quickly. Reading doesn't exactly require particularly quick movements that would trigger it again.
[Which is a good thing because if he was too dizzy to read...]
Bite your tongue if your next words have any resemblance to "I told you so."
[Despite Vergil's tone, it's a playful warning.]
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[... and he wasn't going to say "I told you so." Probably. Most likely. At least, not in a way where he meant it as more than a way to annoy his father...
Nero does settle in, pulling out the book and thumbing through it before he starts attempting to read in earnest. This is honestly more about making Vergil feel better about bailing on their spar, about cutting short their afternoon than it is that he really desires to sit and read right now, but... hey. His dad's sick for possibly the first time in his life. He could use a little company, so he might as well get started on this book while he's at it.
Reading alongside Nero does offer a few minor challenges though. It's not silent for long before he speaks up.]
What's "tantalized?"
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[Thus, Vergil never held any expectation that Nero would stay perfectly still nor perfectly quiet with his own book. At some point, he was bound to speak or move, or both. Vergil hardly minds, glancing up briefly from his own reading.]
Tantalized means to have tempted someone with something they really want, but without giving it to them. It's typically an impossible desire they're being tempted with, but not always. It's derived from Tantalus in Greek mythology, if you're familiar.
[Which he says as a way for Nero to remember the meaning of the word easier, not to condescend or make him feel stupid for not being able to guess at the word's meaning. Honestly, if Nero doesn't know the myth, that's a mark of failure on the part of schooling in Fortuna either for only teaching the myths surrounding Sparda or being unable to actively engage Nero in learning. Regardless, it's not a reflection of his son as far as Vergil is concerned.]
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Since meeting Vergil and learning about his mother, there's been times he's become self-conscious about his thoroughly average-to-below average reading interest and ability. Initially, he feared that his father might think he was stupid or slow. It felt like one more irreconcilable difference between them, one more way Nero could fail at being a good enough son to acknowledge.
Most of that, thankfully, has gone away. Vergil even reads to him now and then, and he finds it easier to understand by listening. He's even comfortable enough to ask for word definitions when needed (more often than he'd like.)
But still... it is a little embarrassing to admit when he's not getting a reference.]
Greek mythology? I don't know anything about that...
[But then a memory slowly dawns on him. Kyrie loves to read, and back in the day she would notice how Nero grumbled or slowly drifted his attention away from any attempts. So sometimes she'd offer to read to him, action-packed or scary books or things she knew he'd be more interested in. More often than not, Nero was too busy being enamored with Kyrie to pay attention to the book.
But he remembers ONE thing.]
Oh, wait. Greek... Like Clash of the Titans?
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I assume that's a film...?
[Vergil hesitates to say that it's based on anything in Greek mythology. What film adaptations Nero has shown Vergil have varied wildly in how closely they follow their source material for better or for worse, and he doesn't know where Greek mythology would land exactly. Vergil feels safe assuming it would likely vary greatly depending on the myth in question as to how far it might stray. Some of them were quite action-packed after all, and would probably make for great cinema in Nero's eyes, but others would probably be as interesting to him as watching grass grow if they were presented at all authentically. The title gives nothing away as to what myth it's referring to exactly, however. Hence his hesitation.]
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Yeah, it's one of those old fantasy movies with the stop-motion monsters and stuff. Pegasus? And Medusa? And the lady chained to the rock, with the sea monster?
[He... THINKS that's Greek mythology? All the names the same as star constellations and all. That means it's Greek, right?
Oh, and-]
Ah, and Hercules? I mean, he wasn't in Clash of the Titans but I saw those movies too.
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I would hope he wasn't included in something meant to tell the story of Perseus given he is both his younger half-brother and great-grandson... [Vergil shakes his head a little as he momentarily closes his book, leaving a finger between pages to hold his place. He gets to the part that does not make much sense.] How exactly did this film get its title? Perseus' myth comes after the Titanomachy, and if memory serves, Atlas is the only Titan ever remotely associated with him depending on the author.
[He frowns a little further.]
Of course, setting aside the inaccuracy to the original myth, Perseus' story has enough story to be told on its own between the slaying of Medusa and Cetus without the addition of the Titans. They are not included in the film, are they?
[Vergil really cannot think it would be any good under those circumstances because there's creative liberties and then there's simultaneously bloating and diluting a narrative needlessly.]
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He lets Vergil ramble for a moment, then catches the question and tries to remember the movie. He's seen it more recently than on his handheld television but it was still a while ago.]
Uh... no. I don't think there are any titans, come to think of it. [A beat.] It's a good movie though. We should watch it sometime.
[Then he cracks a sly grin, upside-down from his spot leaning his head on Vergil's leg.] You can tell me all the ways it's not the same as the book.
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I am beginning to yearn for the days when you were less cognizant of how much you are able to get away with by virtue of being my son. [Patently untrue. While he can't say he exactly enjoys being wound up on purpose like that so often, Vergil doesn't entirely mind it either. And he would certainly prefer Nero doesn't feel he needs to walks on eggshells around him either. It's better that they both don't feel such a hair's breadth away from everything falling apart. With his free hand, he grabs hold of Nero's face by his chin to scrunch up that shit-eating grin.] How unfortunate that polite young man was all but an illusion. Instead, I have this foolish hooligan to call my kin.
[He gives Nero's head a little shake before letting him go.]
I'll watch your film that is likely littered with egregious inaccuracies, but you would do well to learn more Greek mythology beyond what you would see on a screen, child. It may even lead to you appreciate things you already like more than you do now.
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[Remember when Vergil and Nero were too uneasy to even touch one another? Now they're at the point where Nero's getting his face scrunched for mouthing off. Bothered FatherTM. He cackles and permits the head shaking, delighting in being called a foolish hooligan.
Then Vergil suggests he experience more Greek mythology. And actually?]
Sure, you can read me the book sometime. It sounds cool.
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I believe if you approach it with an open mind, you'll quite like it.
[Some parts of it may be of less interest to him than others, of course, but there's plenty of monsters and action in most Greek myth to keep Nero plenty entertained if he's able to track what's happening. And what Vergil says is true. Greek myth serves as a foundation of Western literature, and he's more than clever enough to draw those comparisons. Vergil knows it. He just needs to give it a chance, and have it presented in a manner he can enjoy it rather than have it be some dry academic discussion.]
The Greeks wrote poetry about wrestling, you know. And not just about the mythic heroes against their monstrous foes. They held the sport in high regard, and as the greatest demonstration of human strength. [He huffs a small, quiet laugh.] Of course, their wrestling was far more violent than the wrestling you watch. Even the Romans felt the Greeks needed to "chill out," to borrow a phrase from you.
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[He assumes "more violent" than professional wrestling is probably referring to the fact that his wrestling is staged. So does that mean they were actually beating each other with chairs? And writing poems about it?
Yeah, actually, he could get behind this shit.
Nero leans his head back into those head strokes like a cat seeking the contact.]
So you're saying the fact it's violent and there's monsters makes it... tantalizing, for me?
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[Perhaps it is a bit odd for so true and sentimental statement to come now, but Vergil is nothing less than sincere in that belief and finds it merit saying given the day's events. To him, Nero is limitless in all that he can do. There is nothing he cannot accomplish nor obtain once his mind is set to it. Whatever it takes, he'll push himself to see it through to the end. Nero simply is all Vergil thought to be the impossible with all his strength and love.]
[But still he borrows a small page from Dante and Nero's book, lessening the weight of his words a little with a slight tease, mussing up Nero's hair in the process.]
You're far too damned stubborn to let it be otherwise.
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The deflecting joke makes him blink hard, then laugh. The tears are neatly chased away and he can find the words to respond to that.]
Damn straight.
[Then with another smile over his shoulder, he resumes reading his book and lets Vergil get back to his, as well. Everything is perfect and peaceful and content.
For almost ten minutes this time.]
Uh. "Scrupulous?"
[I'm sorry, Vergil. He pronounces it "scrupple-us."]
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Scrupulous. [Correctly pronounced, but with a neutral tone that does not condescend for his mispronunciation. "Scrupple-us" was not a bad guess for how it is written. He doesn't immediately throw out the answer though. This one, Vergil thinks, Nero can probably come to the correct definition on his own.] Have you come across the word "scruple" before? It's a related word.
[Vergil is willing to wager he has at some point or another given his upbringing in a religious cult. In that instance, even if he still doesn't know the exact meaning, context should certainly fill it out enough to point him in the right direction. And barring that, his mother's literature has certainly used the word. Nero may have taken the time to look the word up while trying to read the books on his own and can make the bridge all on his own in understanding the word. Hence the confidence Nero can probably reason this one out one way or another without as much direct input from Vergil.]
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After a think, complete with scrunched brows and pursed lips, Nero recalls it.]
"Guard thy scruples more diligently than the greatest treasure." [Said in a mockery of some dry-ass old fart speaking to the congregation.
He takes another moment to consider that context and then finally has to confess.]
I once decided it meant "balls." Heh.
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[Vergil heaves an audible, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head slightly. It's a small wonder that didn't just inspire a headache, but perhaps that is a credit to an increased tolerance in contending with Dante's nonsense for so long. He lowers his hand and looks down at Nero.]
And when setting aside the height of comedy and cleverness that is your adolescent sense of humor?
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Something that you have... that should be protected securely... but not your balls...]
I don't know. Money?
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So, knowing that, if I described someone you had not yet met as being scrupulous, what would you assume about them? What do you assume they would be like were they to be faced with a difficult choice?
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Well. No. It's a little swell of those old feelings, but it's not so bad when it's Vergil. He can hear the way he's tempering his voice so he doesn't sound condescending or like this is beneath him to explain.
Still doesn't make him like being asked questions like that, or keep him from squirming just a little bit.]
They... do what they think is right? Whatever that is?
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Exactly right, [he says with a small nod.] Someone who is scrupulous is generally considered to be incorruptible. They follow their morals closely, and often without deviation. However, if a situation arises that challenges their morality, they may struggle more than another person with a more flexible sense of morality. That lack of flexibility also gives the word an additional meaning of meticulousness depending on its context.
But the classic example you will most often see in literature of a scrupulous character is usually one struggling between what they've been raised to believe right and wrong, and a desire or temptation of some kind. Some of the books your mother favored often involve strong, genuine feelings of love for a man that the heroine should not love due to the societal norms they were raised with. Although in those stories your mother loved, love triumphs over all, not every author writes such happy endings and reaches the same conclusion as that priest.
[For as quiet as Vergil is, he becomes immediately and incredibly verbose the moment he's allowed to discuss something like this. Of course, this sort of chattiness is not a particular issue most of the time, but with that shortness of breath, Vergil leans a little towards the coffee table for his glass of water to have a drink by the conclusion of his words.]
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Yeah, okay... that makes sense.
[He refrains from cracking wise about Vergil needing a drink after that. Since you know, he's the one who keeps interrupting for word definitions.] Thanks. You're better than a dictionary. [He reaches back to give Vergil a fond pat on the leg, then picks up his book again to fit the meaning of "scrupulous" into the sentence.
Ah, okay... though he still thinks "balls" would work. Like, metaphorically maybe!]
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[The little disruptions slow Vergil's reading down a bit as he must pause in his reading to either provide the definitions or help Nero reason his way through it, but he hardly minds it any more than he does when Nero ends up wiggling his way into a different position. If anything, the disruptions are helpful in their own way as Vergil comes to realize that the shortness of breath is apparently not the only bit of fatigue he's liable to experience throughout the course of this illness. It's a strange and foreign experience, but his eyes begin to feel increasingly fatigued with reading words on a page. The little breaks to explain something to Nero provides him with the opportunity to take a break and prolong his ability to read for just a little bit longer.]
[What's doing him less favors, however, is Nero's nearby warmth and weight.]
[Vergil fights against it for as long as he can. When he doesn't have Nero as a distraction, he opts to look away from the page, refocus his eyes elsewhere for a moment before returning to reread the paragraph again. He slows his pace down considerably, trying to make the words stick in his mind and grasp at their meaning. But there's only so much fight he can put up. Vergil eventually sinks a little further into the couch during some of Nero's fidgeting into another position, more reclined than he was before. Rereading a paragraph becomes rereading a sentence, a word as drowsiness has him blinking in and out of consciousness.]
[There's a light thump as his grip on his book loosens to near total release, the novel falling onto his chest. But Vergil does not so much as stir let alone suddenly jerk awake over it dropping.]
[So, it turns out that under the right circumstances Vergil may, in fact, nap after all.]
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And then there's this shit: "The police arrived at the station in a macabre parade."
Muh caber? Ma sabre? Mackabray?
He almost feels bad interrupting again after a long pause without, but...] Uh... what is...
[Then he hears the little thump. A telltale slow breath. Nero shifts very carefully to look up and see that Mr. No Naps has fallen asleep. Well, good! Stubborn bastard needs the rest. He looks almost cute with that book on his chest...
Nero waits a few more minutes to ensure his wiggling and movement doesn't stir Vergil, because you just know the idiot will never allow himself to fall back asleep if that happens. Once he's pretty certain he's steadily sleeping, Nero sits up, setting his book on the coffee table. He gently moves Vergil's book to join it, then grabs the throw off the back of the couch and unfolds it (Kyrie lives with them now, of course they have a throw on the couch.) Gently tucking it around Vergil, he leaves him to nap on the couch and goes to tidy up the living room, including putting Vergil's book bag back in his room and closing the blinds to make it a bit darker.
Sleep tight, old man. Nero will protect your nap like a mackabray guardian.]
Arrival day, after getting home
Showers.
Especially after being up in the mountains and developing a headcold. The steam has helped a lot and Kyrie has emerged from the adjoining en-suite wearing makeshift pjs and bundled up in a hoodie that is definitely too big and smells too much like Nero to be hers.
Honestly, she's appreciated having some time to herself to wrap her head around everything that's happened today because it has been a lot to come to terms with and try to keep her usual, positive outlook on things. It's been a relief to drop her guard and just let the hot water wash over her and process. She's exhausted, she's very probably going to be sleeping poorly tonight with a cold coming on as well as sleeping in a strange place for the first time. She hadn't realised just how drained she feels until she'd stepped under the shower head.
She's busy toweling her hair dry as she steps back into the bedroom and announces her presence with a smile and a cheerful:]
Bathroom's all yours!
[The show must go on.]
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But there is still a lot... a lot that Kyrie needs to be caught up on. Things he was ready to tell her seven months ago now, but so much has changed. He's changed. And Vergil has too. So he wants to be very, very careful about how he catches Kyrie up to speed. If he manages to do it without her storming out of the house or throwing kitchenware at a devastated Vergil, then he'll have succeeded.
And if not? No. No, he simply refuses to consider it.
When Kyrie emerges from the shower he is actually lying facedown on the bed. He's dressed down to one of his workout tanktops and a pair of sweats, but he sits up on an elbow as soon as she's present.
He can't help but smile like an absolute smitten buffoon just looking at her. It's really her. Here.]
I'm good. You feel any warmer?
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[Case in point, the pink flush on her skin and the rosy cheeks that may or may not also have something to do with appreciating Nero in his tanktop. Her eyes flit down to his right arm, whole and human again, and once again she marvels at the utterly incredible things her beloved seems to be able to accomplish.
She quickly twists the towel into a turban and smiles back at him when she catches him grinning at her. She knows that face. She's missed that face. It's only been a few weeks for her, she can't even imagine being parted from him for seven months.
So, taking his smile for an invitation (and feeling emboldened by the knowledge that the door is shut and the house is empty), she helps herself to the bed and scrambles across until she's able to snuggle up against him and scoop him into a hug.]
And you make a pretty good hot-water bottle.
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[He opens his arms to welcome her, rolling up with her and stopping only when he's afraid he might smoosh her. This leaves him on his opposite side, cradling her close but not so close he can't look at her.
He lifts two fingers to tuck her hair out of her face.]
So it's all a... really long story. I won't bore you if you're tired tonight, but...
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You know you could never bore me, but maybe you can keep the gruesome parts to a minimum so I don't have to imagine what went on.
[It's bad enough knowing that he risks his life on a regular basis without having to hear about the gore and bloodshed, honestly. She reaches across to skim her fingertips up and down his right arm, still not used to the novelty of touching smooth, human skin where there had been hard metal so recently, and before that, demonic scales and glowing light for so long.]
But absolutely don't hold back on the important parts, I want to know everything.
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Man... where do I even start?
[How far back does he go? There's a lot of this he doesn't even really know for certain, but has surmised or put together from the pieces of the puzzle he does have.
Well. At the very beginning, maybe, would be a good spot.]
Okay. So... Dante is Sparda's son. And Vergil is Dante's twin brother. And one time Vergil went to Fortuna and he... he met my mother. Her name was Beatrice.
[He sighs, honestly wishing he knew more than he does about this part. But Kyrie knows full and well how clueless he'd been about his origins as a kid.]
He didn't know about me. And he doesn't know what happened to her. But that's where I came from, I guess.
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Some of what Nero is saying she's managed to piece together herself. Dante and Vergil being twins is probably the least surprising thing. Vergil himself had told her that he hadn't known about Nero's existence, so she nods at that, her face soft and accepting. The name of Nero's mother is new information, and she again files away the strange coincidence of her name to her own private amusement. There is nothing funny about any of this, and she doesn't want Nero to feel she might think that.
She gives his hand a gentle squeeze.]
Perhaps... we could look for your mother when we find our way home. Even if she's no longer in the city, we might be able to find out something about her, if you wanted to.
[She lifts his hand to her lips and kisses his knuckles.]
It's somewhere to start from.
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I do want to. I don't know what we'd find after all this time, but... Dad gave me some pictures of her. Somebody had to know what happened to her and... Anything would be nice to know.
[He doesn't want to get hung up on that, though. If he's honest with himself, the subject of his mother still feels very raw and painful. Nero isn't sure how he can possibly deal with that, though, or how he's supposed to process any of it when she's such a big question mark.]
Anyway. So... that's why I have powers. And why Sanctus captured us. And why Dante gave me the Yamato. Because he's my uncle, and Vergil's my dad, and... I'm Sparda's grandson.
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[She looks up at him and reels it in, seeing the worry lines etch his brow. Very gently, she reaches up and strokes his cheek, brushes her thumb over his lips. The known quantity in his heritage is impressive enough, if not a little daunting. She lets a playful smile creep onto her face at that.]
You know... if this had got out when the Order was still at its height, you would have been idolized and I'd probably have been excommunicated.
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But there's really no sense in getting worked up over a "what if," so he takes a breath and lets Kyrie's fingers soothe away the grump and furrow on his face.]
Yeah, if by "idolized" you mean thrown in a cage... [And he doesn't even WANT to think about what they'd have done to Kyrie in that case. He shakes it off and bites his lower lip.]
Does it weird you out? Sparda wasn't a god, but... you know. It's kind of weird, right?
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She shakes her head and murmurs her dissent.]
I mean, it was a shock when your father told me who he was and when I realized what it meant. But no, it doesn't weird me out. It might have done... but now I know that he was more than some 'god', he was more than that.
[She nestles in against his side and rests her free hand on his stomach.]
And so are you.
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Good. 'Cuz my gramps might be a legendary demon knight, but I'm still just Nero. I promise.
[Like yeah... so many demons over the years used to sneer at him and call him "Sparda's kin" and "blood of Sparda" and all that shit. He always knew it was a connection somehow. But it feels a lot more real knowing exactly how close to Sparda he is. Even with what he knows about Sparda as a person and not a figure of legend, there's a kind of disconnect in his head at the very idea.
Like... imagine going to Grandpa's house for the holidays, and it's Sparda. Fucking wild.
Anyway. Now that that's covered... time to wade into some murkier territory.]
So... what do you think of Vergil? You guys seemed to be getting along okay.
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You've never been 'just Nero' to me, you know that. You're just my legendary, slightly Dark Knight Nero now.
[She pats his stomach cheerfully, indicating that she's teasing him to put him at ease.
Mostly.
It's very strange to think that he is a direct descendant of someone she worshipped as a god and it might take some adjusting to, but having got to know Dante over the years and recognized the all too present humanity in him, he's not quite so intimidating.
Vergil, on the other hand...]
I like him. He's very different from his brother, if they didn't look so alike I'd find it hard to believe they're related.
[She pushes herself up to look at him, smiling fondly.]
But you know, it's not so hard to see the resemblance between you two if you look carefully enough.
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[Well. You've seen his screenname, obviously he does. He chuckles and eases into a more comfortable position on the bed, letting Kyrie flop and snuggle however she pleases once he's settled on his back.
Nero can't help but smile a little wider when she points out how much he and Vergil look alike.]
Yeah. I had a hard time believing it myself... hard to think he's my dad too, except it's like looking in a mirror sometimes.
[He's going to have to get into this somehow. Slowly. Carefully. So he takes a breath and wets his lips.]
He, uh. He's had a really rough life. I don't know all the details but he was... gone for a long time. I think in the Underworld. He's kind of prickly and sometimes he's like a feral cat. Hissy and nervous and poorly socialized?
[A soft, good-natured laugh.]
He's been trying really hard though. Trying to be a better person and a father. He's changed a lot. I wouldn't be calling him "Dad" if he hadn't earned it from me.
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[Kyrie laughs but she's also slightly scandalised. She can't imagine getting the nerve to call Vergil something like a hissy, poorly socialized cat. He comes across as so stern and severe, she can't imagine what it would be like to actually anger him.
But... Nero trashtalks people he likes. Not her, never her, but Nico? Dante? Constantly. It makes her laugh.]
I'm looking forward to getting to know him better, hopefully somewhere a bit warmer. He was so kind to me when he found me, I need to find a way to repay him for everything. Do you think I should cook him a special dinner to thank him?
[She adjusts herself so she can sprawl over him, snuggling into his body heat and the warmth of his hoodie.]
I'm so glad you've found him, I can see how much he means to you. I just wish I'd been here with you while it happened.
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[Maybe he'd tone it down a little bit but he absolutely would. He and Vergil are finally at the place where they can rib each other and it doesn't come off as really pointed and mean. It's a place they were gonna need to reach, in Nero's regard.]
I think he'd like that. He's kind of blase about food but I know a few things he likes by now... he really likes tea and books, actually. I bet he'll love talking to you about his books.
[It's wonderful to hear that he was so kind to her. That she wants to repay him and get to know him better. He hopes, from the bottom of his heart, that she still feels that way in a moment. He absolutely has to tell her.]
There's, um... there's something I need to tell you about him though. It's about what happened last y... last month. In Red Grave. [And in the garage. Though he can already feel himself starting to falter as he gets closer to it.]
It might be kind of hard to hear but I need to tell you. Can you hear me out?
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I knew something was bothering you when you called, has it been eating away at you for this long?
[She can't imagine that he's had months to sit on this; is it something so terrible that he can't even share it with his family? She reaches for both of his hands to hold in hers as she looks at him.]
Of course I can hear you out, you can tell me anything.
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Oh, no, no. It hasn't been eating at me-- I mean, I've basically come to terms with it, I'm just... [Worried that she won't.
But enough of the mystery. He sighs and shakes his head, then wets his lips before he goes to explain.]
So Vergil. Before we met, before we even knew each other existed, he was dying. He was weak and half out of his mind trying to save himself. He needed his sword. So when he sensed it, he came to Fortuna and...
[Nero laces his fingers with hers, particularly those of his right hand. Here's the cruel truth that hit him like a truck that day, left him reeling on the phone to Kyrie.]
He was the one who attacked me that day. He tore off my arm to get Yamato back.
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The whole world grinds to a halt, all sound turns to static in her ears and Kyrie forgets how to breathe for a split second. She's paralysed, transported back to that sickening moment of utter horror when she'd gone to the garage. Her world had tilted on its axis to find Nero bleeding out on the floor, soaked in his own blood, dying for all intents and purposes, and she had been powerless to do anything more than try desperately to staunch the bleeding and beg Nico to call an ambulance as she'd cradled him in her arms and pleaded with him as he lost consciousness.
Please be okay
Don't go
Don't leave me
I can't do this without you
I love you please stay with me
You're everything, I can't lose you
You can't die you can't die
Even now her nightmares are coloured red with the blood she can't stop, and she feels the dead weight of him in her arms as she tore her skirt and tried to fashion a tourniquet to stop the endless river of blood that poured from the ruined stump of his right arm.
She'd thought a monster, a demon, had broken the sanctity of their home and harmed him. But this? This is so much worse.
He has to be mistaken, this can't be true.
Her voice is tiny when she finally answers, her face ashen in disbelief.]
What?
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But it hurts so fucking bad to see her distressed. It takes everything in him not to break that promise to himself and start rushing to say something, anything that would make it better.
He closes his hands--both of them-- over hers, bringing them in to place against his chest.]
He was the demon in Red Grave. Something... happened to him, and once he had Yamato it only got worse. He split in two. There was V, his human side, everything that was good in him. And then everything that was left was that... monster.
[It's hard to explain that part when he still doesn't understand much of it himself. He's never quite wanted to quiz Vergil either, since he's so obviously touchy and wary about the subject of his past. But nor does he want to leave out any of his understanding for Kyrie. It's twisted and frightening and fucked up, but he absolutely will not keep it from her. Not if he wants any hope at all of his family all being mended into one.
So he explains the Red Grave situation. How dire things were when they arrived, how V was so desperate to put a stop to Urizen and the mistake he spawned that cost so many lives. How V was dying, and Nero more or less carried him to the bottom of the Qliphoth, where Dante had defeated Urizen. How V and Urizen rejoined into one Vergil, and the bombshell when Dante told him that Vergil was, in fact, his father. The man who'd assaulted him and crippled him was his own, unknowing father.]
When I called you... I didn't know what to do. He'd done so much wrong, and I spent so long wanting revenge for my arm, but... I couldn't let it go just like that. I couldn't just leave him and Dante to kill each other. I didn't want bloodshed to do the talking in this family anymore. I just... wanted to look him in the eye as his son, and see what he would do about it.
[By now, there's a telltale wet shine in Nero's eyes.]
Kyrie. I know how... screwed up this all is. I still don't understand a lot of it. But if I thought he might hurt you, or me, I'd be a thousand miles away with you and never even look at him again. He knows he was wrong. He's been working so hard to change, and to be a father for me. You don't ever have to like him, or trust him, but...
[At last, he closes his eyes and leans forward, bonking his forehead into her shoulder.]
I forgave him. Maybe I'm stupid and too trusting, but... I wanted to give him a chance.
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It would be one thing if the attack had been perpetrated by the side of Vergil devoid of any and all humanity, but that's not the case. That small spark of optimism, that it can't be that bad, snuffs out. Then the human side of him had dragged Nero back into the unpleasantness, knowing what had been done to him? Knowing how close they'd come to losing Nero? And what about the demon side, how many lives had been lost to feed his unrelenting
She battles to keep her breathing under control, feeling her heart begin to race in a panic.
And then Nero's eyes well up, and her heart begins to break for him. Her own vision begins to blur as she watches him pour his heart out and she can understand the conflict he feels all too well.
She remembers five years ago, remembers seeing Nero stand over her brother's prone form with his arm glowing and having to fight the battling horror and disbelief and fear, not knowing where to begin reconciling the truths she had always believed. Even with Credo fallen at his feet, her heart had told her to have faith in Nero, just as it tells her to have faith in him and his instincts. He's always kept her safe. Always.
Stupid and too trusting? She can't call him that. Because from the moment she had met Nero's father, she had found herself drawn to him, felt safe (if not a little unsettled) being near him, and to know now that he was the monster who had nearly ripped her life apart?
She's shaking as he leans into her and she holds onto him, clings, but can't bring herself to say anything. What can she say?]
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It's a minute or two before he regains the ability to speak, and can even find the words to do it with.]
It's been seven months for me. He promised me he'd rather die than ever hurt me again. And you know I don't take anybody at their word, but... he keeps on proving he meant it. Over and over again, no matter how hard it is for him.
[He turns his head from her shoulder, pressing a very lazy kiss against her collar as he does. Well... to the hoodie, anyway, kind of intended to be her collar. Also ends up with one of the drawstrings kind of draped over his chin. But he puts up with it for the moment.]
I don't expect you to forgive him, or... like him, or if you don't want anything to do with him, I get it. I don't want to sound like I'm making excuses for him. But he's changed a lot and grown since I've known him. He loves me. And I... [He wets his lips suddenly, the rest of that sentence getting stuck on his tongue somewhere.]
No matter what, I promise that you're safe. I'll keep you safe, like always. And if it ever looks like I might not be safe, I'll protect myself. So please, just... let me keep giving him a chance.
[Nero lets out a soft, rueful laugh.]
He's a dumb, nerdy, awkward, uptight bastard who's still learning problem-solving skills. But he's my dad.
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She had never been ignorant to what people had said about him, never entertained the gossip that he was some ill-gotten bastard left on the orphanage's doorstep. She knows he was bullied, knows what it takes to earn his trust, and for him to trust deeply is something she knows takes him a long time. Even now she can count on one hand the number of people he would openly admit to trusting.
And she's so torn, because she would shout from the rooftops how deeply she trusts Nero and that will never change but this? This is so different from anything else because it's his family. Of course his judgement comes with the complicated influence of emotions added to the mix.
Her own aren't making things any easier.
His attempt at a kiss grounds her, makes her shift to brush her fingers through his hair in an effort to comfort him. He's so tense in her arms, and the way he's pleading with her to let him keep giving his father a chance to prove himself-
He loves me
Kyrie's breath catches at that, shaking as she cries against him because she can't possibly contend with that. It's family, it's his blood, it's what he's always dreamed of since he was that bruised, lonely little boy she shared her candy with with. How can he possibly think she'd want to take that away from him?
Because that so-called family nearly took him away from her. Permanently. What right does he have to muscle in and hurt him again? Nero's always kept her safe, as he says, and she has always tried to do the same in her own way. Shouldn't she stop this now, before Vergil has the chance to hurt him again?
...it's an awful, bitter thing to think and she's disgusted with herself.
It's even worse because from the outset, she herself has wanted to like and trust his father, and be liked by him in return.
Now? What can she even do or say?
She still has no words.
She kisses the crown of his head instead, and holds him tight.]
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Like, it's gonna drive him fucking insane with anxiety and worry! But he wouldn't blame her a bit!
She kisses the top of his head and he closes his eyes, forcing out a few more stray tears. His hand continues rubbing lazy circles on her back, and he lets the silence go on for a few more minutes.
At last he swallows.]
Is there anything I can say to make it easier? Anything I can do?
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[Her voice is small and shaky and she forces some composure back into herself. She takes a deep breath, drawing back from the hug. Her face is still pale, eyes wet and red rimmed, and she searches his face, now haunted by the similarities she had seen between him and his father and wondering how she can separate the two.
She should hate Vergil. He's a monster. She's everything she'd been raised to believe as evil and base in this world.
But he's the Son of Sparda, Nero's father and he loves him and she's sworn to herself never to hate any part of him, that she loves and accepts every inch of him, every drop of blood in his veins, demon, human, whatever.
She reaches for Nero, her rock, and takes his face between her hands.]
I wanted whatever hurt you dead. I wanted to rip it to pieces just so it could hurt worse than you, hurt the way I hurt when I saw you lying there... and he was your father?
[She shudders, tears rolling down her cheeks.]
How could you forgive someone like that after what he did to you?
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I don't know. I didn't think I could. I wanted payback. Not just for my arm but for everything he did to you and Nico. To Dante. To the city. I wanted nothing more than to kill him. But...
[He drifts off for a moment, scrambling to gather a hundred thoughts and feelings into sensible words. His right hand slips up to brush Kyrie's tears away with his thumb.]
When I found out he was my father, I just... like I said. I had to see for myself. I didn't want him to die without ever looking him in the eye and speaking to him. Maybe he was a coldhearted bastard and a ruthless monster, and maybe he did deserve to die but...
[One more swallow, and he comes to the conclusion he came to all those months ago after hanging up with Kyrie.] I didn't want it to be like that. I didn't want my father to be like that. For Dante to kill his brother, and for my family I didn't even know to fall apart like that.
[He takes a slow breath and leans forward, touching his forehead to hers.]
All I did was give him a chance. If he'd spit in my face or thrown it back at me, or acted like a [pause where he trips over almost saying "fuckhead"] creep or whatever else, then screw him, I'd know once and for all. But he didn't. He's tried so hard and apologized, and... I forgave him for hurting me.
[Nero smiles a little crookedly, then spares his hand to wipe his own tears.]
I can't forgive him for you. Or for anybody else or anything else he's done. But for what it's worth, he's said he wants to apologize to you.
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She leans into the brush of his thumb, shares breath as he presses his forehead to hers, listens patiently as he articulates his thoughts. He's come so, so far and she loves him so deeply as he shows his capacity for forgiveness.
Kyrie thinks he's a better man than any other she's met. She might be biased, but it doesn't make it any less true.
She looks up to meet his crooked smile, her own smile watery in return as she watches him wipe away his tears, and she slowly processes what he's saying.
Vergil wants to apologize to her.
With all her heart, she wishes she could say she will accept that apology for Nero's sake and let that be the end of it. Be the bigger person, follow Nero's example and let their lives go on, embracing him as part of her family, learning to forgive and forget.
She just doesn't know if she can.
But she can't bring herself to say that to Nero. Not when she can see for herself how much this man- and it's a struggle to use that term- means to him. How much Nero loves him, even if he hasn't said it aloud to her. She knows what he cut himself off from saying.
Maybe she's not as good a person as everyone says she is.
Her thumbs trace the path of his hands, brushing the remnants of tears away that he might have missed. She's sure the uncertainty of it is written all over her face but she can't bring herself to look away from him, not when he's being so open and vulnerable with her.]
I don't know if I- I will hear what he has to say.
[I just can't promise I'll forgive him.
She inches closer, needing to be near to him. Those days leading up to his second departure for Red Grave had been tense and fraught, with her still simmering with anger and terror at the thought he was about to disappear and put his life in danger again and Nero thrumming with fury and grim determination to finish what he had started. They had barely spoken, it wasn't until the night before he left that Kyrie had left the self-imposed exile of the sofa-bed to return to their room and hold him, determined not to let him leave thinking she didn't care.
It's caring too much that has her tied up in knots right now.]
I still see you on that floor and I can't- I wake up and I can't breathe thinking I've lost you before I remember you're okay.
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[He draws her into the embrace, putting his head over her shoulder and holding her as close as he can. His fingers move up and into her hair, cradling the back of her head.
For as horrifying and awful as it was for him to be attacked, for all the pain and the blood and the loss of his limb and his power both, Nero has always believed he had it easier. He passed out and remained out cold for much of the ordeal. He wasn't the one who had to find him bleeding and dying in the garage, who had to hold him until the ambulance arrived, who had to sit by his bedside in the hospital room. Kyrie had been so frightened and suffered so much in the aftermath of the attack, he was almost angrier at his assailant for her sake than his own.
He would never ask Kyrie to put her feelings about it aside, or to ignore them in favor of the family unity he does, admittedly, long for. He won't even ask her to give Vergil the same chance he did. If she'd told him she never wanted to look at Vergil again, he would have done his best to facilitate it-- no matter how much it would break his heart to do so. Kyrie deciding to hear him out is her own decision to make, and he would never ask her to even do that much.]
If you're okay with it, you can hear it from him. I'll respect anything you decide. And if you want me to be there, or to talk to him, or to do anything-- I'll do anything you want me to.
[He turns his head to kiss her temple, then to mumble very softly in her ear.]
I love you. More than anything else in the world. I'll do whatever it takes to make you comfortable and keep you safe.
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[Kyrie's eyes close as she leans into him, letting a shaky breath tremble free. She shivers as he mumbles in her ear and turns to face him, hesitating for just a moment to speak against his lips, he's that close.]
Just be here with me with me now. As long as I know you're safe, that's all I need.
[She knows she needs to make a decision, knows that Nero needs to be put at ease, but she can't think straight. She's so tired she realizes; tired of putting on a brave face, tired of holding herself together, tired of missing him. She leans in, brushing her nose against his as she closes her eyes and rests her forehead against his.]
I don't trust myself to decide anything tonight... I just want to be with you. You don't know how much I've missed you.
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Yeah, please, take all the time you need. Sorry to dump all this on you all at once, but... [Better now than having her find out later.
He grins when she says she missed him.]
Almost as much as I've missed you? [Vergil could tell her some truly embarrassing stories. Yeeesh.]
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Don't apologize, it needed to be said. Thank you for telling me everything.
[Forewarned is forearmed. It's been a lot to contend with, that much is for sure, but secrets never sit well, and they've always made it a point to be honest with each other. That won't change, not as long as they're together. And while they're being honest...]
Oh you can't have missed me more than I've missed you, but I suppose it has been longer for you than for me.
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Oh, yes I can. I missed you so much...
[Nero snatches another kiss from her. Then his face turns 2.5 shades pinker.]
I feel like I'm dreaming. Like I have been since I saw you at the station. My beautiful Kyrie is here.
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It's not a dream, I promise. I'm here.
[She takes the initiative and saves him a steal, freely offering him a sweet, lingering kiss.]
And I'm not going anywhere.
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With her perched in his lap, he sits up to lean back against the headboard. The easier to kiss her between gushing compliments.]
Right here with me. [Smooch.] Right where you belong. [Smooch.
Then he goes in for a longer kiss to match hers. It starts off sweet but gets... a little steamy when he can't resist some tongue.]
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[She manages to sigh out her response before Nero goes in for a deeper kiss and she moans into his mouth as she tastes his tongue with hers. She is all too aware of how long it's been as her temperature goes up like touchpaper and she's aware of everywhere he's touching her and everywhere he's not.
And it's not enough.
One kiss melts into another, and another, and she laughs against his lips.]
Wait- is this okay?
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Is what okay?
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This is your father's house.
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Uh. This is our house? He didn't pay for it. [Because nobody pays for housing in Folkmore, but shh-]
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I want to lift the ban.
[This is then followed by a little nibble of his earlobe before she adds:]
And you are noisy.
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Oh. This is his father's house!!! RIGHT!]
Ah. Right. That's- that's new, isn't it...
[His face turns crimson, all the way down to his chest visible through the neck of his tanktop.]
I'll be quiet!?
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Kyrie gives him a skeptical look before she laughs and drops her forehead to his bright red collarbone, shaking with amusement.]
No you won't! You don't know how.
[And, truth be told, she wouldn't want him to be, not tonight.
...she's not exactly quiet either. Sopranos tend to be full-throated at the best of times.
She kisses his throat apologetically.]
What should we do?
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So after a moment he turns, carefully depositing Kyrie on the bed.]
One sec please.
[He stands up and heads for the bedroom door, stepping out into the rest of the house for about 37 seconds.
Then he comes back, closing the door behind him, looking incredibly relieved.]
They're both out. House to ourselves.
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So when Nero returns with relief painted all over his face, it spreads to Kyrie almost immediately as she jumps from the bed and rushes straight to him.]
Oh thank your grandfather.
[She is 100% teasing him and laughs accordingly as she jumps into his arms.]
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Euugh. He had nothing to do with it.
[He kisses her, then carries her back over to the bed to plop her down by the pillows, laughing under his breath.]
And you are not allowed to praise him anymore when we're-
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Oh no, you're the only one I'm planning on praising tonight.
[Begone shirt, you have no place here. She tosses it away, over towards her discarded towel, and lets her palms rove over his torso as she shifts beneath him to get more comfortable.]
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[Delivered confidently. Though if Kyrie praises Nero even slightly he will immediately crumble to pieces. If it's religiously, he will literally keel over and die.
Nero settles her out with her head on the pillows, kneeling over her. His bared chest is pretty much how she remembers it, the wounds from the Qliphoth incident long since healed. All his latest injuries came at Vergil's doing, while they were sparring... but thankfully, Nero's freshly healed from those, too. Thanks, Devil Trigger!
The one big difference, of course, is his right arm. Looking freakishly normal and ordinary, human skin, a hand just like the other. This will be the first time she's gotten a real decent look at his arm sans clothing, and sans the more familiar glowing mark of his demon arm.
He perches over her, taking a moment to admire her in that hoodie.]
You look so hot in my hoodie. [Put a little engine grease on there and he might actually start sweating.] I almost hate to take you out of it...
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Kyrie's hands travel deftly across the planes of his stomach, up to his chest and over his shoulders, touching as much as she can as if trying to memorise every inch of him. At the compliment about her in his hoodie, she smiles up at him with a slightly wicked gleam in her eye that very rarely emerges, and only ever in private moments like this. She bucks up to kiss him, a stolen peck of a kiss.]
You could always let me keep it on, but then you'd never get to see what's underneath.
nsfw from here on out >>b
Another time, maybe. [He returns a grin, though nowhere near as wicked as hers.] You're like a present for me to unwrap.
[(Please rest assured that was as painful to write as it was to read.)
Sliding a hand behind her, he guides her to sit up and tugs at the sleeves of the hoodie to pull it up over her head.]
Ohoho. Stole my shirt too, did you? [She's even hotter in one of his big T shirts. He cannot resist kissing her, which does hamper his attempts to take that off her, too. As does his insistence on mumbling against her lips.] God, you're so cute...
>:3
You are just the silliest-
[She's cut off with Nero pulling the hoodie up over her head; it's big enough that it doesn't even catch on her ears. The shirt is vast on her, the collar is so large that it's slipping off over her shoulder. She has no complaints about the kiss and mumbles against his lips:]
I'm just borrowing it, but if you want me to give it back...
[Oops there goes his shirt over her head, oh my. Completely bare except for her panties, she holds the t-shirt out to him with a smile with a pink flush spreading over her cheeks.]
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You can borrow it whenever you like.
[He leans down, kissing her boldly, one hand trailing fingers down her collarbone, down her chest, then cupping her breast. A deeply satisfied sigh escapes his throat, and he pulls away just enough to speak.]
Oh, baby, I missed these, too... [He's grinning when he kisses her again, letting both hands make themselves at home touching her breasts, her waist, her hips, and tracing a little trail around her navel. But now he's more pink than ever, and physically warm to the touch. Some things never change.]
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I'd return the favour but I don't think my clothes will fit you.
[Each time he goes to kiss her, Kyrie finds herself drawn to him like a magnet as she leans in and reciprocates. The contact is almost electric. She shivers delightedly as he touches her and arches in closer, as though she's attention starved and needy.
Even after all these years, she still yearns for his touch.
She murmurs softly at the back of her throat as he explores her body, refamiliarizing himself with her curves. She leans into him, her body feeling warm and flushed from the proximity of him and her growing excitement, and brushes her lips over his jaw up to his ear and giggles a little as he pronounces his appreciation for her breasts.]
I hope you're going to take care of them for me.
[She places her hand on his thigh and rubs along the rigid muscle, creeping higher. She whispers questioningly, promisingly into his ear:]
And let me take care of you?
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[Cracking stupid jokes as he plays with her breasts, and draws a trail down her throat and collarbone with his lips. The little needy movements she makes, the gasps and the quiet sighs, every single one of them reminds him of how much he's missed her. How did he ever survive this long without her?
He gives an enthusiastic "mmhmm" when she asks if he'll take care of her. And as for the reverse prospect... that's definitely a shiver that goes down his spine when she whispers in his ear.]
Yes, please... anything you want.
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[She tilts her head back, letting him have easier access to her throat as her eyes flutter closed. As lovely as it is to have the sensation of his lips against her skin and the strange new feeling of having two distinctly human hands on her body, there's a certain neglected part of her that craves more. She shifts slightly until she's able to straddle his lap, and settles herself with her legs astride his hips, moaning low as she finally brushes against him. They may still be clothed (barely) at the point of contact, but it doesn't make it any less electric when she rubs against his erection at last.]
I want you to tell me what you need.
[She knows what she needs but she's also very aware that he's the one who's been pining for her for seven months when it's only been two for her. As far as she's concerned, his needs outweigh hers... at least for now.]
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[Muttered against her skin as though it occurred to him mid-thought. Fortunately, it doesn't seem to distract him very much. He pulls away only when Kyrie rolls atop him, replacing his hands on the curve of her waist. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as she grinds down, and with a roll of his hips he presses his hardening bulge up between her thighs.
He very nearly audibly says "fuck" as he groans. Alas, he only mouths it.]
I need... [He settles into a slow rhythm, grinding up against her. He also lets out a quiet laugh, now brilliantly pink from scalp to stomach.] To learn to talk dirty without goddamn dying...
[He spares a hand from her waist only so he can briefly, bashfully press his fist over his eyes. Then he lets it drop, an absolutely smitten look in his eyes as he gazes up at her. ]
I need to make love to you. All night. Until you're satisfied.
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Hers is hanging by a thread as it is as her world contracts to just the two of them, on this bed, wearing far, far too many clothes. She doesnβt need to shop for more, sheβd quite happily never wear clothes again if it meant staying like this.
Cheeks flushed, lips swollen from kissing and panting softly, she pauses from riding him as he proclaims his intentions and just melts. Itβs like falling in love with him all over again.
She nods emphatically.]
Yes-
[Her voice catches somewhere in her throat and she snatches another needy, hungry kiss from him, her hips moving on him again to punctuate how emphatically she approves of his needs.]
Yes please, I need that too. I really do.
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Lifting his hips, he tilts Kyrie forward, cupping her face through the kisses with one hand and sparing the other to tug at the waistband of his boxers. It's a bit of a struggle with physics, so determined is he not to move her or make her get off of him, but with a few bucks and wiggles he manages to inch them down until he can kick them off victoriously. There comes the usual extension of his blush all the way down to his stomach as Kyrie gets a glimpse at all of him, rock hard and aching for her.
Fortunately, it's mostly a physical reaction at this point. For him it's been nine months, man...]
God, please, touch me.
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Helpful would probably be stopping her attempts to kiss every inch of his mouth but she doesn't want to do that, she'll just restrict herself to sweet little nibbles and kisses as he concentrates on shedding his clothes. It's in her best interests not to distract him here.
Her very limited show of patience is rewarded as she glances down at Nero's completely bare body beneath her and it's safe to say that any residual cold she might have felt from her escapades in the mountains is completely banished at the sight of him straining for her to touch him.
Who is she to deny him?
Her touch is soft, careful and tender as she takes him in her hand and strokes him gently, eyes fixed on his face and his reaction as she does. No matter how many times they do this, how often she gets to touch him, she never gets tired of his response or the way he feels in her hand.]
I've missed touching you, feeling you like this...
[She trails her kisses to his neck, down to his shoulder. Her hips still astride him as she devotes her focus to moving her hand up and down along his length.]
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He wets his lips as she starts to stroke him, relaxing back against the bed so they can both indulge for a moment. Digging his shoulders back into the mattress stops him from wiggling too much, helps him resist grinding back against her hand out of sheer desire for more of her touch.]
I missed your eyes. And your smile. Your voice... and how warm you are...
[Nero's hands find her thighs, squeezing affectionately, working up and down to encourage her.]
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I miss waking up beside you. [A fact that is going to be remedied very soon!]
I can't be mad at you like that ever again, I can't bear not having you near me, I couldn't sleep knowing you were nearby and I wasn't holding you. Wasn't touching you... wasn't letting you touch me where I wanted you to touch me.
[Is that a hint? It might well be. She kisses his throat, then along his jaw back to his ear, and whispers bashfully:]
I miss you inside me.
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I'll never make you mad like that ever again. [Or at least, he'll try really, really hard not to. It hurt like hell, disappointing her that badly on top of everything else.] Guh-
[His thighs twitch at a particularly good stroke, and he turns his head to give her more room to kiss his throat. Laid out flat for her enjoyment... there's nowhere else he'd rather be.
With one exception, which Kyrie kindly mentions. Nero turns absolutely crimson, reaching to slide his fingers back through her hair, turning his face to whisper back to her.]
Please, baby. I need it right now. Let me...
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Yes. Yes please, always... I'll always...
[She slides off his lap and nestles against the pillows, splaying her legs ever so slightly. There's one tiny obstacle in the way which she's all too keen to do away with as she starts to slide her panties down over her hips. She fixes him with her gaze, molten and longing in equal measure.]
Help me with these and come into me.
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Then as he climbs over her, one hand slipping between her thighs to stroke her, he gets distracted and drawn into another long, luxuriant kiss. Nearly sidetracked, in fact, until the slide of bare skin over skin brings him blinking back to the present moment and the task at hand. He draws his hand back and nudges her thighs apart, easing between them, leaning in to touch their foreheads as he lets out a held-in breath.]
Ready for me?
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She whimpers as his hand finds her between her legs and she arches off the bed at his initial touch, breathing shallow and all but a lost cause when he kisses her again. She writhes against his hand, ready and aching for more, their intimacy this evening having already worked wonders for her readiness for him.
She reaches for his hands, guiding one down to his cock with hers so she can help lead him home. Her eyes meet his.]
Make love to me, Nero.
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He sighs with longing and relief as he hilts in her, pausing to lean over and kiss her again, making small adjustments to the way her legs drape over his, the way his knees take his own weight and hers. Then propping his hands up over her shoulders, he slowly starts to move, groaning softly. It's like getting a drink of water after crawling through a desert.]
God, you feel so good, baby...
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Shifting beneath him, she tightens around his length and kisses him hungrily, the edge of her appetite for him barely even scratched and so tantalisingly close to being what she needs with every little movement of his hips. She drapes one arm over his shoulder, the other looping around his waist as she looks up at him with a joyful little laugh.]
Iβm so glad this part didnβt change with everything thatβs happened.
[Yes, she is referring to a certain body part, and she punctuates that with a gentle squeeze of said part, accompanied by a soft, satisfied sigh for emphasis.]
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He'd been out and about a little because why wouldn't he be?? But he'd been out to grab some snacks and the likes from the place he usually wanders off to when he's bored or, you know, needing to stock up on things, but. The trip had taken him a lot longer than it usually does given how off he feels. Physically more than emotionally, but. Hey. This is sure to tank his mood if this keeps up, so. Who's to say with the emotionally part just yet.
On his way "home", he's had to stop a few times to catch his breath β bend over some and just squeeze his eyes shut as a means to try and get his head to stop spinning. Heh. Maybe he should have checked if his usual spot had painkillers or something back there, but. When the Hell's he ever need those before? Is his demon blood sleeping on him right now or something? Rude if so. Or is this him getting old? Also rude because Vergil's the old man between them even when they were kids.
Either way, by the time he gets back, his head is spinning, his face is a little on the paler side, and he feels way hotter than he usually does because, obviously he's a stud. Ba dum tsh. Dragging his feet across the way, he coughs into his arm and blinks his eyes a few times as he goes and drops his bags onto whatever surface he'd managed to bump into first. )
Hey. Anyone see a hammer around here?
( So he can smash it over his head in an attempt to stop this headache. )
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Then Dante arrives home. Nero's at the sink, washing dishes, but he turns around at strange greeting. He ought to be accustomed to those by now.]
What, you got your hand stuck in something again? [If the shoe fits, Unky...]
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The accusation would ordinarily get a scoff from the youngest son of Sparda, but. As it stands, he gives more of a cough followed by a huff as he raises both his hands up. )
My hands are both free and clean.
( Arms dropping down to his sides, he goes about rummaging through the bags he'd dropped down, rubbing at his brow with the back of a gloved hand as he does. )
Ugh, don't tell me I forgot the sauce dammit.
( If he has to haul his ass back out there... )
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Oh, nice. We're learning.
[Having sassed his uncle the obligatory amount, he turns around, drying off his hands with a towel.]
What sauce, for what?
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( It's for his special lasagna he makes for Vergil and, from the looks of it, yes. He forgot it. Heavy sigh and eyes falling shut, he pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to will away the pounding happening across his head.
Couple seconds later, he forces himself to straighten up and coughs a little before he's slowly pulling away from the table, dragging his feet as he goes. )
I'll be back. Gotta get the damn sauce.
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Hey, wait. Are you coughing? And feeling kind of dizzy?
[Is that dread Nero feels coming on?]
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Me? The greatest and coolest son of Sparda? I should be offended you even asked that.
( To which he gives him a wave and starts for the door again... only to have to clutch at the wall for a second or two because hoo boy, is the room starting to spin or something? )
I'm the perfect picture of health.
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Yeah, well, be offended if you want, 'cuz the other son of Sparda is currently laid up in his room because he was coughing and dizzy and puking earlier. I think there's something going around.
[Vergil claimed that the half-and-half twins don't GET sick, but clearly that's not the case.]
Why don't you take it easy and I can go get your sauce?
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He waves Nero off β throws a smile back to the kid over his shoulder as he straightens himself up, then lets out a breath as he shakes a finger in the direction of the door. )
Look. Just because it slipped my mind, doesn't mean you got to go and save the day for your old uncle here. Besides. I could use the fresh air. Smells like a library in here.
( He's making his way for the door with those boots of his dragging against the floor and then he's... falling down to the floor. Well. Sliding down towards it since he's trying to hold to the wall for balance. Doesn't quite work, who would have thought, so. Down he goes. With a big heavy thump. )
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[This is right about when Dante goes down like a sack of bricks. Nero just stands there a moment, staring. Then he walks over to stand beside his uncle and offer him a hand up. When he's coherent enough to take it.]
You want some help, there?
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Eyes squeezing shut to try and combat the spinning of his head, he doesn't bother to move. Just lays there on the floor. The nice cool and not moving floor. )
Nope. Just gonna stay here if that's ok with you.
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Would you like to go lay down in your bed instead? You're gonna put your back out down here.
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( And, you know, the room spinning suddenly. )
Your old man's more likely to throw his back out.
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[Well, he's not gonna beg him... so Nero rolls his eyes and stands back up.]
Deja vu, seriously...
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( Heh. The thought is funny to imagine, but. Also not all that hard to believe in a way. )
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[Nero scoffs as he steps over Dante's prone corpse to return to the kitchen.]
You just give me a whistle when you want some help up. I could make you something to drink, too.
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The younger son, on the other hand, chooses to remain there on the floor for a bit longer until he's more or less sure the room has stopped spinning for the time being. That's when a hand presses against the floor and, using that demonic strength there in his veins, he pushes himself up off the floor. Slowly. Eyes squeezed shut as he does. Better safe than sorry!
He manages to get himself up on a knee β takes a moment to breathe β then slowly gets himself the rest of the way up. Slow, easy movements are the key here, which is a little annoying to someone like him, but. That seems to be the name of the game here. Once he's more or less up, he holds at the wall again and just presses his shoulder to it then. Again, got to take things nice and slow.
And then he's slowly making his way for the door to head on out. Nero's too busy with whatever in the kitchen, right? )
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One hand goes towards that doorknob, and a shiny blue clawed hand rests on Dante's shoulder, then spins him around to face his vexed-looking nephew, folding his arms.]
Really, dude? You think you're gonna make it to the store like this?
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He can't even say anything because his head spins and his stomach lurches and there he goes, bending over, hands on his knees and eyes squeezed shut. )
Jesus, Nero. You can't just go spinning people around like that.
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Also, whoops!]
Ah, fuck. Sorry!
[He replaces the wing with his own hand on Dante's shoulder, giving him an apologetic little pat.]
But come on already. Let's go sit down, at least. You're even worse than Dad.
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( Sorry, Verge, but he's not wrong.
He pushes Nero's hand off his shoulder and tries to straighten himself up some but it's just... a little hard to do at the moment, so he ends ups hunched over again, hands right back on his knees. He just... needs a second. Or two. Maybe three. )
I'm fine. Don't worry about me.
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[Nero gives him those few seconds, just to see if he'll miraculously shake off the vertigo on his own. When Dante insists he shouldn't worry Nero sighs audibly, then reaches down to pick him up and gently set him over his shoulder in a fireman carry. No wing help needed! He's trying not to move him too fast, at least.]
C'mon, tough guy. Couch or bed?
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Alright. All of a sudden he's off the floor and over Nero's shoulder? This kid. Honestly. )
Why I oughtaβ
( But his words are cut short when he coughs a couple times there over Nero's shoulder, clearly not in the mood to try and fight him on this. Consider yourself lucky, kiddo. )
This what you did with your old man? And do you have any video footage if so?
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[Man, all that working out is paying off. He's not even breaking a sweat carrying Dante.]
Couch or bed? You don't answer, I'm going bed.
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( And maybe sneak out the window but shh. No one has to know that. )
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Nero hefts Dante into his bedroom, and is even kind enough not to bodyslam him onto the bed. This time. He cracks open a window for some fresh air, muttering as he goes.]
Jeez, you guys really are twins. Same sickness, same insistence it's gonna kill you to accept a little help...
[Then he parks it on the bed alongside Dante, sitting for a moment.]
Maybe you'll feel better if you sleep it off. Dad doesn't nap, [delivered in a perfect snotty impression of Vergil's voice] but it could help.
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You mean to tell me I got this from your old man? I'm gonna cough all over him the second I can get up.
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[Nero shrugs, and shows no real indication of leaving yet.]
Cough on him later. If you wake him up I'm gonna knock you both unconscious, the hard way.
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( Gosh, kiddo.
But he's just going to lay there. In boots and jacket and guns strapped to his back. Uncomfortable? A bit. But he's also had worse over the years and especially in his youth. )
You also don't have to stay and worry over me.
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[He glances at Dante over his shoulder and gives him a knowing smirk.]
I won't, I promise. Just actually try to take it easy until you feel better, okay? If I find you facedown on the driveway you're in big trouble.
[Nero gives him a pat on the leg and then stands up.]
Can I get you some water? Or take your boots off? You're not gonna lie there on top of your guns, are you?
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( Is he joking or being dead serious? It's hard to tell with him most days, isn't it? )
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[But Dante's a big boy, he's not gonna nag him that hard... probably.]
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Remember when I was out for a whole month? Maybe I'll take another nap that long. Or longer. You can hold the fort down with your old man, right?
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[Nero gives Dante another nudge in the shoulder to try and roll him over onto his stomach.]
How 'bout you start with just an afternoon and see how you feel later?
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Wouldn't want to get your lady love all sick now, would we?
( To which he gives Nero a weak little fingergun. )
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No, but you'd better be ready for the best soup you've ever eaten in your life. When she hears you guys are sick she's gonna be all in on nurse mode. There'll be no stopping her.
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( Chuckling through a cough, he presses a fist between his brows, breath leaving him a little shakily. He's in pain but he's not going to show it because... that's for weenies. He will just lay here and suffer through it as a true son of Sparda. Vergil wouldn't whine or complain, so. Therefore, neither can he. Well. He can to Vergil with his little brother status and all, but. To Nero? Never. )
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Well, yeah? After I got out of the orphanage she was the only one who cared when I got sick.
[He finally gets him rolled over just enough to pluck Ebony and Ivory off his back, then lets him flop back over onto the mattress. He is much less gentle yanking Dante's boots off.]
Lucky you guys, now you've got both of us. I'm sure you're thrilled.
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Sure. You got Kyrie. Vergil's got Mizu. Happy for you both.
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[He gets both boots off and tosses them on the floor, then sets Ebony and Ivory somewhere safe (not throwing, not to worry.) The rest is Dante's problem if he decides to deal with it.]
There. Now, you want some water, or should I just leave you be?
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( Well. Not really, but. What's he going to do? Power through it the best he can and hope his demonic healing is just a little delayed in getting him over this. After all, how long can this really last? Surely not days or weeks, right? ...right???
Either way, he waves Nero off and presses his fist between his brows again, eyes shut and just... hating how he feels. )
Go check on your old man. He needs it more.
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Rest up, Dante. Hope you feel better.
[Look, he'll even be nice enough to close the door behind him.]
While Vergil is sick
"Me too," V sighs at her. He doesn't truly have the Lore to spare on treating Vergil's favorite cat, nor the one who has adopted him, but he spends it. Trapping the waitress in conversation about what treats the cats like probably paid for it. Yet the time has come to an end, yet another late afternoon early evening without sight of the man. He better not have vanishedβnot on Nero and Dante. V doesn't need him.
So he approaches one of the busybody spirits he's overheard gossiping about everyone's business but their own and asks where the Russian Blue's favorite lives. He gets directions to a house in the right neighborhood. It brings a small pep to his step that Vergil is well known enough that someone can direct him. It implies good things, however aloof the man may act. Thankfully, it's not that far, so V doesn't need a break on the way. Nor does he accept Griffon's offer of help. Last thing he needs Vergil to see is him getting carried about.
The house is a normal looking house with enough room for multiple bedrooms and an attached garage. He's not sure why the garage, given he doesn't know of almost anyone here with much in the way of personal transportation. Nero had a van, but surely the van hasn't come with him to Folkmore when so little follows them. Questions, but staring at the house from some ways away does not answer them. The trouble is that Vergil lives with Nero and Dante, and V has no way to know who will come answer the door. Each situation is vastly different. V could take another day or so to prepare, but even he's aware of how foolish that is. He may have more days, but they are not for wasting.
So he walks up to the front door, leans against his cane, and knocks. Eenie, meenie, miney, moe. Who will it be?
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Nero is doing his best to remain calm and positive, but after several days of caring for both his father and his uncle on their sickbeds, the violent urges are starting to pile up. They're both frustrating in different ways, and everybody's starting to get stir-crazy, even Kyrie, and yeah it sucks that they're not feeling good, and for fuck's sake why does Nero care so much what two stupid old men do when they're sick? Except he's well aware if he leaves them to their own devices he's gonna end up dragging one or both of them home after they're found facedown on the pavement miles and miles away, and just-
It's been trying! That's all!
Fresh off making lunch, Nero is about to make an excuse to abandon the house for a while when someone knocks at the door. Excellent. An excuse. He's not sure who to expect when he goes to answer it, but he's definitely not expecting the impossible, rail-thin familiar form that greets him on the other side.
Nero is visibly struck surprised. He pauses a moment, glances back into the house, then spends a few more seconds fumbling for what he should say or do.
He settles on something simple, a nice and neutral: "Oh. Hey, V."
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Whatever has happened with Vergil, Nero already knows more than V, so while it would be business for V to stick to that inquiry and nothing else, it would only burden Nero and not take him into account. Whatever has happened to Vergil has to wait.
That's when he notices Nero's arm, namely that it is made of flesh and blood. V blinks and glances at it a couple of times. However, it is likely in poor form to ask about the regrowing of a limb one is partially responsible, depending how one views it, is responsible for someone losing. The truth of the matter is that its presence, when Nero recognizes him and has forgiven Vergil for ripping it off, is that its return must owe itself to some demonic ability. Nero must be more powerful than he was last V saw him.
"Nero," V inclines his head. "Is this a bad time?"
If it is, he can quickly ask after Vergil and go. It would be so much simpler, but V cannot help noticing he hopes the answer is no, it's a fine time. Nero has time for him and chooses to give it.
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So much for that. Now here he stands, the man who Nero now knows is some kind of supernatural piece of his father-- who is currently inside whining profusely.
Nero didn't know V very well. They were... not friends, surely, but partners in a shared aim. Brothers in arms. And Nero cared about him in that respect. He'd rescued the man, honored his dying wish, struggled to bear him that last stretch into the Qliphoth, and listened to him spill his guts about a deep, secret longing. The revelation about his identity had obviously rocked Nero's world, but not so much that he didn't ask after V's safety in the moments after he'd vanished.
V is Vergil, his father. But he also isn't. But even then, Nero sees no reason to turn him away, or treat him like some stranger. That's all he needs to get started untangling this twisted knot, at least.
"No, it's not a bad time," he says honestly. Manners suggest he invite V in, but it's probably not a good idea when there's illness in the house. Or when Nero's about to commit a homicide. "Both of the old farts are sick, and I'm sick of arguing with them about it, that's all. You, um... you need something?"
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V's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the shocking information Nero drops. "Vergil and Dante are sick?"
He confirms it quickly with a question, though no one else could meet Nero's lightly crass description. What could get a son of Sparda sick? Both of them? Nothing he has any knowledge of, and that suggests their host. The show of power to bring two sons of Sparda to their knees impresses him. It's a sign how dangerous she is. If not her, then someone else as well. Multiple powerful persons on that scale are not what they need. Best confirm it's her.
"Nothing more pressing than their well being," V says. His lips flatten. This illness is not a problem of his making, but if he can fix itβ If nothing else, V owes Nero a favor. He wouldn't be alive without his help. "If I may be of assistance, please let me know."
No matter what V wants of Nero, it's a bad time to impose upon him. He's clearly taking care of a lot. "If they can be left to convalesce, perhaps you could use a distraction."
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V offers his assistance, and Nero is sorely tempted to ask if he's got a gag or two handy.
"They're about to be left on the side of the road somewhere if I don't get out of this house." To further make the point, Nero steps outside and closes the door behind him. "What kind of distraction?"
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Nero steps forward, and V takes a half-step back to give him more space. It's well and good except that Nero asks what distraction he means. The question implied V came for Nero and had ideas in mind, a sound choice if only he'd made it. Instead he wracks his mind for a distraction, one that Nero might like and would not exhaust V. Something active, if only to give them more to do than stare at each other uncomfortably. He knows so little of Folkmore.
"I've heard tell of an arcade in Epiphany but not gone," V suggests. His only other ideas involve eating food. That has too much of simply sitting with each other, with no distraction save to take a bite of food in a bid for time. He shrugs. He doesn't need anything of Nero besides Nero. They could row a boat on a lake for all he cares. There's more conversations they need to have, he suspects, than one day can handle. That day may not even be today.
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What a very familiar maneuver that is.
For a moment he looks at V, a little bemused, as though trying to read something in his face. What he's thinking, maybe. Whether or not he knows who Nero is-- though the fact Vergil's spoken to him means that the information probably came up. What he might think about that. Just when the moment starts to draw out uncomfortably long, he smiles and turns back into the house.
"Gimme a sec. I'll grab my stuff."
He emerges a few minutes later, pulling on his jacket and more certain than ever that the Sparda family all needs a couple hours' break from each other. For safety reasons.
"Let's go for a walk and see where we end up," he offers. "I need the fresh air and. Well. Guess we probably ought to catch up, huh?"
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On the one hand, Nero implicitly agrees to spend time with V. On the other hand, it says nothing about the specific offer. V's not especially tied to the idea of an arcade, so it's overall a win. Nero talking with him and continuing to talk with him after what conversations they need to have is the real victory. Not that V would have softballed any challenges in the arcade to let Nero win in order to curry favor. No, any victory would be earned fairly. The same as it feels this win is.
V reads a little poetry while Nero gets his things and closes the book, tucking it away, as the door opens. Since all he sees different is the jacket, V supposes Nero likely checked on his patients and made sure they were ready to brave the world for a short span on their own without anyone caring for them. Knowing the Sparda twins, they would manage no matter what, but as Nero plays babysitter and nursemaid, perhaps not to his satisfaction.
He nods and starts walking... no direction in particular. As much as this part of Epiphany is his most explored, V has no destination in mind. Perhaps not Catfe, as he's already spent hours there today, but that's hardly direction. "There was a great deal we did not have time to speak of while making our way through the qliphoth tree," V comments, "It would do us both good to talk."
Vergil's summary of the rest of that day did not cover Nero's arm regrowing, perhaps not important a topic, but more to the point, there's how V treated Nero. It's not the relationship he wants with Nero now. "If there's any topic you most want to discuss, we can talk about it first."
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Vergil and V. It seems... rude somehow to conflate the two, but how can he not?
"You're looking a lot better. That's good," he remarks. "Though. Hard to look worse than you did last time I saw you, huh?"
Well, that's a hell of an icebreaker. But Nero's good at those.
"So is this... weird for you? With Vergil and all?"
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He's not irritated with Nero over it. The remark probably means little, other than something to say. Perhaps along a similar line of 'you have twice as many arms as last time I saw you.' V will pass on saying as much.
"It's... unexpected," V says, "I never considered the possibility of meeting Vergil. His existence would mean both I succeeded and I no longer existed. Yet he was one of the people I met my first day in this place."
So there was no time to consider the odds of Vergil coming to or being in Folkmore. All the other vast amounts of information flooded at him was enough. He should have thought that far in advance. Except, Vergil isn't a threat, nor his presence a risk to V's well being. Not on Vergil's account.
"We're managing."
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"What's the last thing you remember?" he asks, going off the hunch. At least it should prevent him from saying anything else really stupid, or... dropping any truthbombs he doesn't mean to, come to think of it.
"Did Vergil catch you up on everything?"
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"Vergil told me what he thought I needed to know," V answers that question first. "After I merged with Urizen, he and Dante left you to finish destroying the qliphoth roots in the demon realm."
That summarizes it really. A single sentence without notably more detail. His lips curl up. "I know that must leave a great deal out, even of what I cannot remember. I'd just caught Malphas's attention and thought it likely my mission would fail."
Someone saved him. It's the only explanation for how he'd make it farther. V considers Nero again. Process of elimination would suggest it was him. Dante forged ahead without waiting for them, and everyone else remained in the van. Yet it's too large a thing to assume based purely on that logic, when so much happened that chaotic day.
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V is then at least good enough to be more specific. So he was told about the twins fucking off and leaving Nero behind. Doesn't really clarify some of the more important bits...
"Malphas..." Nero murmurs. "That ugly bird freak? With the chicks on the back?" He remembers, of course. Just didn't catch her... its... their name? "I strung her up like a rotisserie and stuck a fork in her."
His tone gets a little more solemn. "Then you were... dying. Crumbling to bits. You asked me to take you to Urizen, so I did. Then the whole... pillar of light and Vergil bit, yeah."
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No, it seems. As difficult a time as V has now, dying and crumbling to bits is not a sustainable state to be in. Despite the burn in his chest, he inclines his head in recognition of what Nero says. Words take longer.
His legs carry him down the river of emotion that threatens to sweep him away. Nero was the key. Even if Dante was strong enough to defeat Urizen that day without Nero's help, V wouldn't have succeeded without Nero. Vergil wouldn't exist without him. They both owe him their lives. He had no idea how right that feeling was to go to Fortuna that night Dante lost to Urizen.
"Thank you," V says seriously. "You did more than I ever hoped."
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"Um... sure. You're welcome." He reaches up to itch his nose, a nervous tic. "It wasn't a big deal. We were all on the same team."
He... thinks so, anyway.
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It was a big deal, but V isn't going to reinforce that. It's no larger or smaller for shying away from it in conversation. Nor does he feel any less... everything about it. It matters to him.
"We were," V confirms. Save the world. Fix his mistake. Whichever lens best suited the person in question, the outcome was the same. Whatever else he did, whatever lies he told, V was always honest that he wanted to stop Urizen's reckless pursuit of power and that he needed help to do so.
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Nero never pictured himself as manipulated or tricked during the Red Grave incident. He didn't need any convincing or prodding for a shot at avenging himself on Urizen-- even if the decision to abscond from his hospital room put him in the doghouse with Kyrie for the next month. He was, of course, absolutely in the dark when it came to the true meaning of events and the true nature of the enemy they faced. But that was as much Dante's doing as it was V's. He even sort of understands why Dante lied by omission, at this point.
It's less clear to him why V kept things so close to the chest, apart from the sheer unbelievable audacity of his story. Would Nero or Dante have even believed him if he did tell the truth? It probably wouldn't have changed any of Nero's actions or choices. And now, he certainly can't deny that, short of the entire mess being prevented from the beginning, things ended about as well as they could have under the circumstances. They all lived. Vergil lived. And V... Well. He's alive now, anyway.
"What else did Vergil tell you?" he asks, nearing what he thinks might be the real crux of the matter. "About me?"
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It's not time yet for V to ask questions. He offered to answer questions for Nero, and the next question is entirely reasonable. If V hadn't spoken with Vergil yet or if Vergil said nothing of the matter, Nero would be in the position to reveal the truth to Vβthe alternative being to wait for Thirteen to do so. It's too shocking a revelation to be left alone.
"When we first met, I knew you had to be a Sparda," V says. "I assumed at the time you were Dante's. After speaking with Vergil, I know I was wrong."
He words it carefully, neither claiming nor rejecting Nero as his. He's had daysβdays!βto think about it, and it still confounds him. Oh, not how it happened. He understands when that happened, but what it means for him and Nero? It elevates the uncertainty between them to a whole new level.
V looks over at Nero. "Foolish though it may be, it was more confounding to learn than anything about this place."
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Like, okay. Nero had also known, in some respect, that he was probably related to the Sparda line. White hair? Superpowers? It's not like there are all that many other demon hybrids running around. But he supposed it never occurred to him how very few there were.
For a long time he, too, wondered if Dante might be his father. He was old enough, and they looked similarly, and had so much in common... but Nero also assumed that Dante would have told him so, were that the case. (In hindsight he wonders why he assumed that, given Dante acts like being straightforward with Nero will actually kill him more often than not. Not unjustifiably, Nero suspects, but still...) But it still surprises him to hear that V-- a shade of his own father-- assumed that as well.
(This whole V business is fucking weird, make no mistake, but it does provide some deeper insight into Vergil... a fact Nero suspects Vergil probably hates.)
V's words leave him a little caught off guard. He frowns, raising an eyebrow. "Confounding how? What do you mean?"
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He is not sure how much thought Nero has given him or more accurately them, their relationship. If the boy has a clear idea of what he wants or does not, it would be simpler no matter what that answer is. V could set aside any thoughts of his own as to what it could be and accept what it is. Until then, the ground is unsteady at best and threatens to crumble.
"Oh, I know whence you come," V says, "I did not have all my memories when we first met, but they've stitched themselves together with time. It simply complicates what we might mean to each otherβ
"A question I don't expect an answer to today or by any certain date. You have more than enough on your hands right now."
He motions behind them toward the house and its patients they left behind. It's an issue Vergil is no help on. Vergil made clear he's Nero's father, and V is glad for him, for them both. In the long run, when they leave this place, it is no issue, but for as much of a life as V has, it's an answer he'll have to find. He doesn't even know what it would be, should Nero leave it entirely in his hands.
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He feels a sudden pang at that thought. Pictures Vergil's face crumbling to hear it spoken aloud. Is it possible to cheat on your dad with a weird supernatural remnant of himself?
But at the same time, is that fair to V? He'd described him to Kyrie as "everything good in Vergil." It feels quite cruel to deny that, to deny the sprouting feelings and realizations that would, theoretically, blossom into the way Vergil feels about Nero now. And even without any fucky-wucky time bullshit factored in, it feels wrong to treat V as a castoff, as a lesser person. Even if he literally is.
God. He went from having zero parents to having a father and a half and not knowing how the fuck to handle that. Ain't that just the way?
After a moment of silence, awkward fretting, glancing at V here and again, he finally lets out a quiet sigh.
"Well. Okay. What might I mean to you, then?" He folds his arms, looking a little self-conscious. "I'm not... sure how we should deal with this."
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The question gets turned back on V, both eminently reasonable and imminently uncomfortable. Entirely unavoidable as well. It's only natural that Nero's opinion of what he wants would be influenced by what V wants. The question that stares him down in the mirror (when other people are not busy appearing in said mirror) in many iterations: what does he want? what does it mean?
"I must first preface that whatever relationship we might develop does nothing to undermine, demean, or lessen your relationship with Vergil in any regard," V says, "He is your father, and I am given to understand he has worked hard to make amends, gain your trust, and take on that mantle."
No one has implied V would do so, but his presence alone impacts their lives. The ties between him and Vergil cannot be cut, only acknowledged.
"Handling Urizen, I lacked the time to consider what you or Dante might mean to me. You would mean nothing if I failed, and it all seemed like it could wait until thenβdespite the fact that means until the point I no longer existed as myself," V says. It's so hard to speak of the matter itself, but he cannot speak around it entirely. "Even should you ever decide I mean nothing more than a stranger to you, you will always mean something to me. Something more than the means to stop Urizen and correct my mistake."
The word hangs in his mind.
"Family, I expect. The shape that might take remains more nebulous. Father, uncle, brother, they rise and fall as questions. As something we might be. The only clear thing about it is that whatever we are will take time and effort." His heart races, as though he's running and fighting with all his might. It's only one foot in front of the other, and that feels challenging at the moment. V leans on his cane at the immensity of what he's said.
"A title without what comes behind it is meaningless."
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He at once does and does not need the acknowledgement that whatever V is to him, it doesn't take away from Vergil. In fact, he finds himself deeply, deeply relieved to hear it. These are anxieties he didn't even realize he was feeling, but giving them a name has made them suddenly far more intense and looming in their dread. The last thing he wants is for some kind of spat to form between the two. Wouldn't that affect something, logically? Would V becoming angry or upset with Nero translate over to Vergil's feelings, too? He's barely found his father (and his shadow), the last thing he needs is to alienate him (or his shadow.)
Nero waits until V seems to be done speaking. Mercifully, he doesn't leave him hanging to sit there and wonder if what he said was being accepted or rejected.
"Yeah." Okay, it isn't the most in-depth response, but he does at least elaborate a bit. "You're right. I don't... know what we are, but I know we're not nothing."
He glances over at V. "You're not nothing. We'll... see what happens, I guess."
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One word, and his feeling feel foolish. Childish even. Nero has never treated him cruelly and helped him where Dante focused on the mission, on Urizen, on (in his mind) Vergil. Nero is not the person to reject V out of hand. If he were, they would not be on this walk or having this conversation. A simple exchange about being busy caring for Vergil and Dante would have been enough. V would have respected that answer and left. Instead, it's this uncertain unsteady footing.
"That may be the most apt description of me I've heard," V remarks dryly. Not nothing, no matter what Vergil thought in the moment he discarded V. He's the human weakness left behind and more. That weakness is more than weakness. Without his need for others, his experience asking for help, he could not have reached out to Nero as he had. As he is.
"We have the time," V says. They're walking nowhere so far as he knows. It's farther from the parts of Epiphany he's become familiar with. They walk, and V has no further idea what they might do togetherβeat? fight? Nero rejected the idea of the arcade (just as well, V cares little for the location on a personal level, more at ease in a bookstore or library). "I'm in a guest cabin near Elder Mother Station. Until I find more permanent housing."
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He shrugs and offers an awkward little smirk at V's observation. Nero doesn't consider himself particularly profound but sometimes he does hit the nail on the head.
So V is nearby... but Vergil notably didn't ask him to live with them. Yeah, Nero ain't touching that with a 20 foot pole, nor even bringing the idea up.
"I hope it's a nice cabin at least," he says. "That's not that far, right? That's good. If you end up needing anything you should let me know, now that you know where the house is."
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V only observes for now. Everything is too tenuous to say anything about anything. V doesn't know Nero the way Vergil or Dante does. Say the wrong thing, and what little they have could evaporate. Get cut. Cast off.
"It's nicer than anything I've known," V says. He may push the limits of how long one is expected to stay. The Lapine neighborhood is also close. He may wind up there, living in a burrow like a hobbit. The housing in Folkmore is all adequate, what V has seen of it, but he chose the guest cabin because it's close to the neighborhood Vergil said they lived in. He's stayed for that reason. "You too should call on me if you need something."
Something Vergil and Dante cannot provide. So pretty much, nothing.
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"Anyway." Change subject, quick. "I will. You know where I could get some goddamn sedatives? The two of them are the biggest, whiniest babies in the world right now and one afternoon of peace and quiet could do us all a favor. Talk about manflu."
Nero pauses. "De-manflu. Heh."
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He says none of it because Nero veers away into another topic entirely unrelated. Nero doesn't have to know more than he wants to or be reminded of anything unpleasant, like the reason he was in the hospital in the first place. The question makes him consider the individuals he's interacted with and the various people offering services.
"Could check out the hospital wing at Amrita Academy," V says, "People keep recommending I go there." Except his health isn't an issue so readily solved at a hospital. They can't fix a soul being ripped in two, and V doesn't want them to fix it if they can. Vergil and V in Folkmore may be awkward, but two Vergils would be undoubtedly worse.
He smiles and shakes his head a little at the pun. It sounds like something Griffon would say. "Have you considered hitting them over the head really hard? That could do the trick."
text - un: ~*Kyrie*~
xXBlackKnightXx
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But
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how bad was it
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but pink is fine!!! It's just a towel right?? I like pink even
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not sure we have any
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[Whoa calm down Kyrie!]
What about baking soda?
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but I can get both!! it's easy! I'll go to the market and get anything you need β€οΈβ€οΈβ€οΈ
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Oh please don't go to any trouble, I can do it. I can't believe I didn't check the machine properly, it was so stupid, I always do it.
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Don't worry about it babe seriously nobodys gonna care
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I care though, I was trying to be helpful and I ruined the towels. That's the opposite of helpful.
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Bleach and baking soda and lemons, what else????
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And a handsome young man, about 6'3" with silver hair, a beautiful smile and the kindest heart of anyone I've known? Do you think you could bring one of those home too?
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how bout a 6'3" punk with an attitude and the most beautiful amazing generous sweetheart of a girlfriend in the history of the universe πππππππππ
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And I happen to like his ass just how it is, thank you. No beating allowed.
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i must deny the sweetheart heart of gold stuff tho i got a reputation to think of!!!!!
but you can call me whatever you want π
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I mean you're not a thing of course but you know what I'm sayin
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π
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Not as cute as you though.
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This doesnβt make you any less cute.