[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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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