[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)
( 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.]
( On whatever day this may be, when Nero goes into his room, he’ll 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. There’s no note or anything to explain how it’s 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 that’s 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.]
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.]
[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?
[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 dirt—he has enough in him to at least still land comfortably—he 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?
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.]
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 — 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...]
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 vanished—not 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."
I have located V and he has agreed to the temporary living arrangements.
He is apparently hawking wares at the farmer's market in Willow one day per week. [If Nero feels Vergil is being judgmental about that, his instincts are not incorrect. It's beneath V as far as Vergil is concerned!] I am allowing him to finish conducting his business before he gathers his things from his current lodgings.
I've no idea how long it shall take for him to sell the remainder of his wares, but I will let you know when we are on our way home so you may know when to expect us.
[The idiotic pleased grin that Nero grins when he gets an unprompted text from Vergil. Look, he's learning how useful they are! Even if he types like a dweeb. And he signs his texts. But he signs them "Dad." Awwww. c: ]
OK cool I'll clean the room, try to get the stank out of it
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text; un: dante
why are crabs so bad at sharing?
because they're all shellfish 😎
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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[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
SHHH
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🛠️
Hey, kid. Got somethin' for ya.
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Oh boy! A box! [Smartass.]
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🖼️
🎄
[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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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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[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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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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text; un: dante
want to do me a favor? :)
un: xBlackKnightx
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a backdated as heck text for kyrie arrival; un: Vergil
xBlackKnightx
who is this
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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 dirt—he has enough in him to at least still land comfortably—he 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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cw: emeto
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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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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 — 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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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 vanished—not 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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text - un: ~*Kyrie*~
xXBlackKnightXx
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I have located V and he has agreed to the temporary living arrangements.
He is apparently hawking wares at the farmer's market in Willow one day per week. [If Nero feels Vergil is being judgmental about that, his instincts are not incorrect. It's beneath V as far as Vergil is concerned!] I am allowing him to finish conducting his business before he gathers his things from his current lodgings.
I've no idea how long it shall take for him to sell the remainder of his wares, but I will let you know when we are on our way home so you may know when to expect us.
- Dad
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OK cool I'll clean the room, try to get the stank out of it
wtf is he selling???
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