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( 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. )
[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.]
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.]
G'night. Dad.
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.
[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,]
Goodnight, Nero.
[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.
[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.]
[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.]
got my hand stuck in a jar
wanna help me out?
wanna help me out?
i was hungry
put hand in jar
hand gets stuck in jar
seek help???
put hand in jar
hand gets stuck in jar
seek help???
i still have one hand???
but sweet
bring another jar of pickles pls π€€
but sweet
bring another jar of pickles pls π€€
i wasn't born with a fork in my hand
but i sure came with fingers
dill
don't do me dirty with bread and butter
but i sure came with fingers
dill
don't do me dirty with bread and butter
Edited 2024-12-29 19:56 (UTC)
hang on
( a little bit of "..." going for a bit )
nope
still stuck
( a little bit of "..." going for a bit )
nope
still stuck
Edited 2024-12-29 20:01 (UTC)
[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?
Dante, I'm back. [He sets the sack on the counter.] Didn't get your other hand stuck too, did you?
( Imagine if he did...
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 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?
[Weird, it's not very hard to imagine?
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.]
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. )
( 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. )
Oh, come on. Amputation is at least Plan D.
[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?
[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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