[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.
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.