[As Nero steps away into the kitchen for his glass of water, Vergil turns his attention back to his book. Normally, he would anticipate Nero's return to the couch would be his only warning before one of his three living, breathing weighted blankets made himself at home. But this time, Vergil is uncertain. He doesn't think Nero is about to treat him like a precious thing, easily broken if mishandled even slightly. It would only agitate Vergil given enough time if he did that, and that's not Nero's intention. However, considering the earlier upending of Vergil's stomach, he wouldn't necessarily fault Nero for wanting to take it a little easier on Vergil right now as far as jostling him around is concerned.]
[Vergil glances up, and ultimately does a slight double-take when Nero settles onto the couch. Nero's gotten past most of his self-consciousness about how he reads. So, the sight of him with a book or willingness to read in Vergil's presence isn't unheard of these days. Nero's selections, however, tend to be among the books Beatrice loved or one of Vergil's books of poetry. They're books he can only tolerate in small bursts as such, and Nero's enjoyment of them is at times limited. (Which is all well and good when Nero is most likely reading them for the sake of a connection between himself and his parents, not necessarily for his entertainment.) Thus, it's more happenstance than anything that Vergil comes across Nero reading. Nero sitting down with Vergil with the intention of reading himself (and reading a recommendation Vergil made, no less) is a far more novel experience.]
[And a pleasing one at that. Not that Vergil's minded the hours upon hours of wrestling and movies he's chosen to watch with Nero—he's actually gotten more invested in both than he thought he would in the beginning—but Vergil possesses far more limited hobbies for Nero to choose from, and he's not ignorant enough to believe that reading wouldn't occupy a fairly low position on Nero's list of preferred activities in general.]
Hm? [As it turns out, Vergil was a little distracted by his silent marveling at Nero choosing to read with him.] Oh. Yes, I feel fine right now.
The dizziness was only occurring when I moved too quickly. Reading doesn't exactly require particularly quick movements that would trigger it again.
[Which is a good thing because if he was too dizzy to read...]
Bite your tongue if your next words have any resemblance to "I told you so."
Hey now. [Nero laughs at the pre-emptive warning, and leans his head back in a playful backwards head bonk, nudging Vergil's leg as he lies down with his feet hanging over the arm of the couch.] I didn't say shit, old man.
[... and he wasn't going to say "I told you so." Probably. Most likely. At least, not in a way where he meant it as more than a way to annoy his father...
Nero does settle in, pulling out the book and thumbing through it before he starts attempting to read in earnest. This is honestly more about making Vergil feel better about bailing on their spar, about cutting short their afternoon than it is that he really desires to sit and read right now, but... hey. His dad's sick for possibly the first time in his life. He could use a little company, so he might as well get started on this book while he's at it.
Reading alongside Nero does offer a few minor challenges though. It's not silent for long before he speaks up.]
[At this point, Vergil is well accustomed to the disruptions to his reading when he isn't alone with it. With Dante, it's incessant chatter about whatever comes to mind which Vergil has gotten quite good at tuning out. Well. He tunes most of it out. Dante still has the tendency to occasionally say something that sparks his temper or otherwise hooks him into a conversation whether he likes it or not. And if it's not that, then it's Dante's need to constantly keep moving that eventually pulls Vergil from his book to deal with his little brother elbowing him in the side or nearly clocking Vergil in the jaw with a knee or foot every couple of minutes. Mizu has a tendency to read with Vergil albeit she favors nonfiction, typically reading something that contributes to her research on London. So, occasionally, she shares something she's read or asks him a question to clarify the veracity of whatever claim has been made by the author. Most of the time, a brief response is all she needs. It's rare that she goes looking for conversation, and she tends to be just as still as Vergil. Nero, oddly enough, tends to occupy a middle ground between Dante and Mizu on both fronts when he hangs about while Vergil reads. If he chooses to make conversation with Vergil, he tends to either keep it brief or something that will be of interest to him. He can't keep nearly as still as Mizu, but it's blatantly obvious to Vergil that Nero tries his very best to tamp down his urge to fidget lest Vergil nudges him back into his own space.]
[Thus, Vergil never held any expectation that Nero would stay perfectly still nor perfectly quiet with his own book. At some point, he was bound to speak or move, or both. Vergil hardly minds, glancing up briefly from his own reading.]
Tantalized means to have tempted someone with something they really want, but without giving it to them. It's typically an impossible desire they're being tempted with, but not always. It's derived from Tantalus in Greek mythology, if you're familiar.
[Which he says as a way for Nero to remember the meaning of the word easier, not to condescend or make him feel stupid for not being able to guess at the word's meaning. Honestly, if Nero doesn't know the myth, that's a mark of failure on the part of schooling in Fortuna either for only teaching the myths surrounding Sparda or being unable to actively engage Nero in learning. Regardless, it's not a reflection of his son as far as Vergil is concerned.]
[Nero never cared all that much about school, or the ways in which he struggled with it. It was mostly boring as hell, and a waste of time that could have been better spent doing other things: playing outside, learning to fight, exploring the forest, listening to music, watching his forbidden TV... climbing on rooftops... going places he wasn't supposed to... Reading in particular never came easily for him, words getting all jumbled up in his head and making long passages increasingly difficult to understand. It was also unengaging, mostly dry-ass churchy shit about Sparda (sorry Gramps, but it was probably all fake anyway, right?) He liked comic books (the visuals and smaller amount of text help,) and he's read more than a few technical manuals trying to decipher them. But apart from that, reading for pleasure was not his thing.
Since meeting Vergil and learning about his mother, there's been times he's become self-conscious about his thoroughly average-to-below average reading interest and ability. Initially, he feared that his father might think he was stupid or slow. It felt like one more irreconcilable difference between them, one more way Nero could fail at being a good enough son to acknowledge.
Most of that, thankfully, has gone away. Vergil even reads to him now and then, and he finds it easier to understand by listening. He's even comfortable enough to ask for word definitions when needed (more often than he'd like.)
But still... it is a little embarrassing to admit when he's not getting a reference.]
Greek mythology? I don't know anything about that...
[But then a memory slowly dawns on him. Kyrie loves to read, and back in the day she would notice how Nero grumbled or slowly drifted his attention away from any attempts. So sometimes she'd offer to read to him, action-packed or scary books or things she knew he'd be more interested in. More often than not, Nero was too busy being enamored with Kyrie to pay attention to the book.
[It's not altogether that surprising for Vergil to hear that Nero doesn't understand the reference. He's about explain it a little further when Nero chimes in with his reference that Vergil doesn't understand as indicated by the slight furrow in his brow as he looks up.]
I assume that's a film...?
[Vergil hesitates to say that it's based on anything in Greek mythology. What film adaptations Nero has shown Vergil have varied wildly in how closely they follow their source material for better or for worse, and he doesn't know where Greek mythology would land exactly. Vergil feels safe assuming it would likely vary greatly depending on the myth in question as to how far it might stray. Some of them were quite action-packed after all, and would probably make for great cinema in Nero's eyes, but others would probably be as interesting to him as watching grass grow if they were presented at all authentically. The title gives nothing away as to what myth it's referring to exactly, however. Hence his hesitation.]
Yeah, it's one of those old fantasy movies with the stop-motion monsters and stuff. Pegasus? And Medusa? And the lady chained to the rock, with the sea monster?
[He... THINKS that's Greek mythology? All the names the same as star constellations and all. That means it's Greek, right?
Oh, and-]
Ah, and Hercules? I mean, he wasn't in Clash of the Titans but I saw those movies too.
[Well, now that's just confusing. Although not the part about Hercules' absence from Clash of the Titans.]
I would hope he wasn't included in something meant to tell the story of Perseus given he is both his younger half-brother and great-grandson... [Vergil shakes his head a little as he momentarily closes his book, leaving a finger between pages to hold his place. He gets to the part that does not make much sense.] How exactly did this film get its title? Perseus' myth comes after the Titanomachy, and if memory serves, Atlas is the only Titan ever remotely associated with him depending on the author.
[He frowns a little further.]
Of course, setting aside the inaccuracy to the original myth, Perseus' story has enough story to be told on its own between the slaying of Medusa and Cetus without the addition of the Titans. They are not included in the film, are they?
[Vergil really cannot think it would be any good under those circumstances because there's creative liberties and then there's simultaneously bloating and diluting a narrative needlessly.]
[Nero does not outright say "what on earth are you talking about?" It is at least mildly written all over his face, though.
He lets Vergil ramble for a moment, then catches the question and tries to remember the movie. He's seen it more recently than on his handheld television but it was still a while ago.]
Uh... no. I don't think there are any titans, come to think of it. [A beat.] It's a good movie though. We should watch it sometime.
[Then he cracks a sly grin, upside-down from his spot leaning his head on Vergil's leg.] You can tell me all the ways it's not the same as the book.
[He heaves a sigh with a slight shake of his head.]
I am beginning to yearn for the days when you were less cognizant of how much you are able to get away with by virtue of being my son. [Patently untrue. While he can't say he exactly enjoys being wound up on purpose like that so often, Vergil doesn't entirely mind it either. And he would certainly prefer Nero doesn't feel he needs to walks on eggshells around him either. It's better that they both don't feel such a hair's breadth away from everything falling apart. With his free hand, he grabs hold of Nero's face by his chin to scrunch up that shit-eating grin.] How unfortunate that polite young man was all but an illusion. Instead, I have this foolish hooligan to call my kin.
[He gives Nero's head a little shake before letting him go.]
I'll watch your film that is likely littered with egregious inaccuracies, but you would do well to learn more Greek mythology beyond what you would see on a screen, child. It may even lead to you appreciate things you already like more than you do now.
Sorry there, Pops. You were gonna figure it out sooner or later.
[Remember when Vergil and Nero were too uneasy to even touch one another? Now they're at the point where Nero's getting his face scrunched for mouthing off. Bothered FatherTM. He cackles and permits the head shaking, delighting in being called a foolish hooligan.
Then Vergil suggests he experience more Greek mythology. And actually?]
Sure, you can read me the book sometime. It sounds cool.
[Vergil opens his mouth to clarify that Greek mythology is by no means contained within a single book, but decides against it. Let that be something Nero discovers on his own while Vergil has this buy-in for now. He runs the fingers of his free hand through Nero's hair lightly.]
I believe if you approach it with an open mind, you'll quite like it.
[Some parts of it may be of less interest to him than others, of course, but there's plenty of monsters and action in most Greek myth to keep Nero plenty entertained if he's able to track what's happening. And what Vergil says is true. Greek myth serves as a foundation of Western literature, and he's more than clever enough to draw those comparisons. Vergil knows it. He just needs to give it a chance, and have it presented in a manner he can enjoy it rather than have it be some dry academic discussion.]
The Greeks wrote poetry about wrestling, you know. And not just about the mythic heroes against their monstrous foes. They held the sport in high regard, and as the greatest demonstration of human strength. [He huffs a small, quiet laugh.] Of course, their wrestling was far more violent than the wrestling you watch. Even the Romans felt the Greeks needed to "chill out," to borrow a phrase from you.
[Vergil's extremely formal usage of "chill out" makes him laugh. Especially because Vergil is also laughing.] Ah, so the Greeks had good taste, then?
[He assumes "more violent" than professional wrestling is probably referring to the fact that his wrestling is staged. So does that mean they were actually beating each other with chairs? And writing poems about it?
Yeah, actually, he could get behind this shit.
Nero leans his head back into those head strokes like a cat seeking the contact.]
So you're saying the fact it's violent and there's monsters makes it... tantalizing, for me?
Quite. [He smiles with an equally pleased hum at Nero's correct use of the word "tantalizing."] Although you do not share in Tantalus's fate. Whatever you desire shall never be impossibly beyond your reach, dear child.
[Perhaps it is a bit odd for so true and sentimental statement to come now, but Vergil is nothing less than sincere in that belief and finds it merit saying given the day's events. To him, Nero is limitless in all that he can do. There is nothing he cannot accomplish nor obtain once his mind is set to it. Whatever it takes, he'll push himself to see it through to the end. Nero simply is all Vergil thought to be the impossible with all his strength and love.]
[But still he borrows a small page from Dante and Nero's book, lessening the weight of his words a little with a slight tease, mussing up Nero's hair in the process.]
You're far too damned stubborn to let it be otherwise.
[There's a moment there, very brief (also upside-down) where Nero gets a flicker of real, genuine sentiment in his eyes from Vergil's words. It's an incredibly kind thing to say. It also rings truer than it ever would have before. What Nero desired more than anything else in the universe was a family. People who'd love him unconditionally for being himself, and not for any other purpose or selfish motivation. He never got that wish as a kid, but he'd built a family with his beloved Kyrie. And now not only does he have her, but he's here in this house with his uncle and his father. His father. Real and in the flesh, stroking his hair and telling him he'll always have what he wants. What else could he want, than this precise sort of exchange-- than to feel that warmth and love from his dad?
The deflecting joke makes him blink hard, then laugh. The tears are neatly chased away and he can find the words to respond to that.]
Damn straight.
[Then with another smile over his shoulder, he resumes reading his book and lets Vergil get back to his, as well. Everything is perfect and peaceful and content.
For almost ten minutes this time.]
Uh. "Scrupulous?"
[I'm sorry, Vergil. He pronounces it "scrupple-us."]
[There's a brief pause before Vergil offers his correction on Nero's pronunciation, the furrow in his brow returning slightly as he makes certain he knows what word Nero means.]
Scrupulous. [Correctly pronounced, but with a neutral tone that does not condescend for his mispronunciation. "Scrupple-us" was not a bad guess for how it is written. He doesn't immediately throw out the answer though. This one, Vergil thinks, Nero can probably come to the correct definition on his own.] Have you come across the word "scruple" before? It's a related word.
[Vergil is willing to wager he has at some point or another given his upbringing in a religious cult. In that instance, even if he still doesn't know the exact meaning, context should certainly fill it out enough to point him in the right direction. And barring that, his mother's literature has certainly used the word. Nero may have taken the time to look the word up while trying to read the books on his own and can make the bridge all on his own in understanding the word. Hence the confidence Nero can probably reason this one out one way or another without as much direct input from Vergil.]
[Vergil is right. Nero has heard that word before. It's just going to take him a moment to recall, because the context was some religious service or other that he was zoning out for.
After a think, complete with scrunched brows and pursed lips, Nero recalls it.]
"Guard thy scruples more diligently than the greatest treasure." [Said in a mockery of some dry-ass old fart speaking to the congregation.
He takes another moment to consider that context and then finally has to confess.]
[Vergil heaves an audible, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head slightly. It's a small wonder that didn't just inspire a headache, but perhaps that is a credit to an increased tolerance in contending with Dante's nonsense for so long. He lowers his hand and looks down at Nero.]
And when setting aside the height of comedy and cleverness that is your adolescent sense of humor?
[Okay, no matter how dumb or puerile it makes him look, that was absolutely worth it for Vergil's disdain alone. He's grinning, holding back a laugh, which also covers up that he just... isn't entirely sure what the word means.
Something that you have... that should be protected securely... but not your balls...]
That is an excellent guess from your example, and money could very well be part of it, [he says, sounding notably pleased with this answer. It could be easy to assume he's merely pleased by the sincerity alone and that's not an entirely false assumption. But Vergil is glad to see Nero using context to find the meaning. That's more important to him than the accuracy of his response.] Scruples are your moral compass. They are the things that tell you right from wrong. To the priest you were mocking, those come from his faith and he would likely deem those who turn away from it to be without scruples. But you well know that religion is hardly the only means of developing morals for oneself.
So, knowing that, if I described someone you had not yet met as being scrupulous, what would you assume about them? What do you assume they would be like were they to be faced with a difficult choice?
[Ugh. School flashbacks. He's being called on in class and the teacher knows he was drawing or looking out the window and that he isn't going to be able to answer this without sounding fucking stupid in front of everybody...
Well. No. It's a little swell of those old feelings, but it's not so bad when it's Vergil. He can hear the way he's tempering his voice so he doesn't sound condescending or like this is beneath him to explain.
Still doesn't make him like being asked questions like that, or keep him from squirming just a little bit.]
They... do what they think is right? Whatever that is?
[Vergil smiles. On anyone else, it would probably appear to be an understated, little smile of approval. But on Vergil, it might as well be a beaming, proud grin.]
Exactly right, [he says with a small nod.] Someone who is scrupulous is generally considered to be incorruptible. They follow their morals closely, and often without deviation. However, if a situation arises that challenges their morality, they may struggle more than another person with a more flexible sense of morality. That lack of flexibility also gives the word an additional meaning of meticulousness depending on its context.
But the classic example you will most often see in literature of a scrupulous character is usually one struggling between what they've been raised to believe right and wrong, and a desire or temptation of some kind. Some of the books your mother favored often involve strong, genuine feelings of love for a man that the heroine should not love due to the societal norms they were raised with. Although in those stories your mother loved, love triumphs over all, not every author writes such happy endings and reaches the same conclusion as that priest.
[For as quiet as Vergil is, he becomes immediately and incredibly verbose the moment he's allowed to discuss something like this. Of course, this sort of chattiness is not a particular issue most of the time, but with that shortness of breath, Vergil leans a little towards the coffee table for his glass of water to have a drink by the conclusion of his words.]
[Nero is now used to Vergil's longwindedness. He's learned to try and follow along as best he can and offer the occasional nod or "huh" or other indication of understanding. And though his dad does probably go a bit overboard with the definition, Nero can't deny he does get it, and the multiple examples do help it sink in.]
Yeah, okay... that makes sense.
[He refrains from cracking wise about Vergil needing a drink after that. Since you know, he's the one who keeps interrupting for word definitions.] Thanks. You're better than a dictionary. [He reaches back to give Vergil a fond pat on the leg, then picks up his book again to fit the meaning of "scrupulous" into the sentence.
Ah, okay... though he still thinks "balls" would work. Like, metaphorically maybe!]
Such high praise, [Vergil says with a slight wrinkle of his nose. But even with his light deflection, Vergil knows it's sincere from Nero after the months he spent reading Vergil's books in secret and relying on a dictionary to help him grasp at the meaning. Not to say a dictionary can't be of some use, but Nero doesn't have to then potentially start looking up words used as part of the definition. And a dictionary lacks the ability to place it into context that will make the meaning truly stick the way Vergil can. Vergil sets aside his glass of water once he's done with it, and settles back into reading alongside Nero.]
[The little disruptions slow Vergil's reading down a bit as he must pause in his reading to either provide the definitions or help Nero reason his way through it, but he hardly minds it any more than he does when Nero ends up wiggling his way into a different position. If anything, the disruptions are helpful in their own way as Vergil comes to realize that the shortness of breath is apparently not the only bit of fatigue he's liable to experience throughout the course of this illness. It's a strange and foreign experience, but his eyes begin to feel increasingly fatigued with reading words on a page. The little breaks to explain something to Nero provides him with the opportunity to take a break and prolong his ability to read for just a little bit longer.]
[What's doing him less favors, however, is Nero's nearby warmth and weight.]
[Vergil fights against it for as long as he can. When he doesn't have Nero as a distraction, he opts to look away from the page, refocus his eyes elsewhere for a moment before returning to reread the paragraph again. He slows his pace down considerably, trying to make the words stick in his mind and grasp at their meaning. But there's only so much fight he can put up. Vergil eventually sinks a little further into the couch during some of Nero's fidgeting into another position, more reclined than he was before. Rereading a paragraph becomes rereading a sentence, a word as drowsiness has him blinking in and out of consciousness.]
[There's a light thump as his grip on his book loosens to near total release, the novel falling onto his chest. But Vergil does not so much as stir let alone suddenly jerk awake over it dropping.]
[So, it turns out that under the right circumstances Vergil may, in fact, nap after all.]
[The book does have some vocabulary words in it, but not so many to make it unreadable. The beginning part is a tense scene where someone is following the hero through a dark subway at night. It's exciting and well-paced, barring the words Nero keeps tripping on, and he gets into it enough to skim over a few words he'd otherwise ask Vergil about.
And then there's this shit: "The police arrived at the station in a macabre parade."
Muh caber? Ma sabre? Mackabray?
He almost feels bad interrupting again after a long pause without, but...] Uh... what is...
[Then he hears the little thump. A telltale slow breath. Nero shifts very carefully to look up and see that Mr. No Naps has fallen asleep. Well, good! Stubborn bastard needs the rest. He looks almost cute with that book on his chest...
Nero waits a few more minutes to ensure his wiggling and movement doesn't stir Vergil, because you just know the idiot will never allow himself to fall back asleep if that happens. Once he's pretty certain he's steadily sleeping, Nero sits up, setting his book on the coffee table. He gently moves Vergil's book to join it, then grabs the throw off the back of the couch and unfolds it (Kyrie lives with them now, of course they have a throw on the couch.) Gently tucking it around Vergil, he leaves him to nap on the couch and goes to tidy up the living room, including putting Vergil's book bag back in his room and closing the blinds to make it a bit darker.
Sleep tight, old man. Nero will protect your nap like a mackabray guardian.]
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[Vergil glances up, and ultimately does a slight double-take when Nero settles onto the couch. Nero's gotten past most of his self-consciousness about how he reads. So, the sight of him with a book or willingness to read in Vergil's presence isn't unheard of these days. Nero's selections, however, tend to be among the books Beatrice loved or one of Vergil's books of poetry. They're books he can only tolerate in small bursts as such, and Nero's enjoyment of them is at times limited. (Which is all well and good when Nero is most likely reading them for the sake of a connection between himself and his parents, not necessarily for his entertainment.) Thus, it's more happenstance than anything that Vergil comes across Nero reading. Nero sitting down with Vergil with the intention of reading himself (and reading a recommendation Vergil made, no less) is a far more novel experience.]
[And a pleasing one at that. Not that Vergil's minded the hours upon hours of wrestling and movies he's chosen to watch with Nero—he's actually gotten more invested in both than he thought he would in the beginning—but Vergil possesses far more limited hobbies for Nero to choose from, and he's not ignorant enough to believe that reading wouldn't occupy a fairly low position on Nero's list of preferred activities in general.]
Hm? [As it turns out, Vergil was a little distracted by his silent marveling at Nero choosing to read with him.] Oh. Yes, I feel fine right now.
The dizziness was only occurring when I moved too quickly. Reading doesn't exactly require particularly quick movements that would trigger it again.
[Which is a good thing because if he was too dizzy to read...]
Bite your tongue if your next words have any resemblance to "I told you so."
[Despite Vergil's tone, it's a playful warning.]
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[... and he wasn't going to say "I told you so." Probably. Most likely. At least, not in a way where he meant it as more than a way to annoy his father...
Nero does settle in, pulling out the book and thumbing through it before he starts attempting to read in earnest. This is honestly more about making Vergil feel better about bailing on their spar, about cutting short their afternoon than it is that he really desires to sit and read right now, but... hey. His dad's sick for possibly the first time in his life. He could use a little company, so he might as well get started on this book while he's at it.
Reading alongside Nero does offer a few minor challenges though. It's not silent for long before he speaks up.]
What's "tantalized?"
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[Thus, Vergil never held any expectation that Nero would stay perfectly still nor perfectly quiet with his own book. At some point, he was bound to speak or move, or both. Vergil hardly minds, glancing up briefly from his own reading.]
Tantalized means to have tempted someone with something they really want, but without giving it to them. It's typically an impossible desire they're being tempted with, but not always. It's derived from Tantalus in Greek mythology, if you're familiar.
[Which he says as a way for Nero to remember the meaning of the word easier, not to condescend or make him feel stupid for not being able to guess at the word's meaning. Honestly, if Nero doesn't know the myth, that's a mark of failure on the part of schooling in Fortuna either for only teaching the myths surrounding Sparda or being unable to actively engage Nero in learning. Regardless, it's not a reflection of his son as far as Vergil is concerned.]
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Since meeting Vergil and learning about his mother, there's been times he's become self-conscious about his thoroughly average-to-below average reading interest and ability. Initially, he feared that his father might think he was stupid or slow. It felt like one more irreconcilable difference between them, one more way Nero could fail at being a good enough son to acknowledge.
Most of that, thankfully, has gone away. Vergil even reads to him now and then, and he finds it easier to understand by listening. He's even comfortable enough to ask for word definitions when needed (more often than he'd like.)
But still... it is a little embarrassing to admit when he's not getting a reference.]
Greek mythology? I don't know anything about that...
[But then a memory slowly dawns on him. Kyrie loves to read, and back in the day she would notice how Nero grumbled or slowly drifted his attention away from any attempts. So sometimes she'd offer to read to him, action-packed or scary books or things she knew he'd be more interested in. More often than not, Nero was too busy being enamored with Kyrie to pay attention to the book.
But he remembers ONE thing.]
Oh, wait. Greek... Like Clash of the Titans?
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I assume that's a film...?
[Vergil hesitates to say that it's based on anything in Greek mythology. What film adaptations Nero has shown Vergil have varied wildly in how closely they follow their source material for better or for worse, and he doesn't know where Greek mythology would land exactly. Vergil feels safe assuming it would likely vary greatly depending on the myth in question as to how far it might stray. Some of them were quite action-packed after all, and would probably make for great cinema in Nero's eyes, but others would probably be as interesting to him as watching grass grow if they were presented at all authentically. The title gives nothing away as to what myth it's referring to exactly, however. Hence his hesitation.]
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Yeah, it's one of those old fantasy movies with the stop-motion monsters and stuff. Pegasus? And Medusa? And the lady chained to the rock, with the sea monster?
[He... THINKS that's Greek mythology? All the names the same as star constellations and all. That means it's Greek, right?
Oh, and-]
Ah, and Hercules? I mean, he wasn't in Clash of the Titans but I saw those movies too.
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I would hope he wasn't included in something meant to tell the story of Perseus given he is both his younger half-brother and great-grandson... [Vergil shakes his head a little as he momentarily closes his book, leaving a finger between pages to hold his place. He gets to the part that does not make much sense.] How exactly did this film get its title? Perseus' myth comes after the Titanomachy, and if memory serves, Atlas is the only Titan ever remotely associated with him depending on the author.
[He frowns a little further.]
Of course, setting aside the inaccuracy to the original myth, Perseus' story has enough story to be told on its own between the slaying of Medusa and Cetus without the addition of the Titans. They are not included in the film, are they?
[Vergil really cannot think it would be any good under those circumstances because there's creative liberties and then there's simultaneously bloating and diluting a narrative needlessly.]
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He lets Vergil ramble for a moment, then catches the question and tries to remember the movie. He's seen it more recently than on his handheld television but it was still a while ago.]
Uh... no. I don't think there are any titans, come to think of it. [A beat.] It's a good movie though. We should watch it sometime.
[Then he cracks a sly grin, upside-down from his spot leaning his head on Vergil's leg.] You can tell me all the ways it's not the same as the book.
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I am beginning to yearn for the days when you were less cognizant of how much you are able to get away with by virtue of being my son. [Patently untrue. While he can't say he exactly enjoys being wound up on purpose like that so often, Vergil doesn't entirely mind it either. And he would certainly prefer Nero doesn't feel he needs to walks on eggshells around him either. It's better that they both don't feel such a hair's breadth away from everything falling apart. With his free hand, he grabs hold of Nero's face by his chin to scrunch up that shit-eating grin.] How unfortunate that polite young man was all but an illusion. Instead, I have this foolish hooligan to call my kin.
[He gives Nero's head a little shake before letting him go.]
I'll watch your film that is likely littered with egregious inaccuracies, but you would do well to learn more Greek mythology beyond what you would see on a screen, child. It may even lead to you appreciate things you already like more than you do now.
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[Remember when Vergil and Nero were too uneasy to even touch one another? Now they're at the point where Nero's getting his face scrunched for mouthing off. Bothered FatherTM. He cackles and permits the head shaking, delighting in being called a foolish hooligan.
Then Vergil suggests he experience more Greek mythology. And actually?]
Sure, you can read me the book sometime. It sounds cool.
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I believe if you approach it with an open mind, you'll quite like it.
[Some parts of it may be of less interest to him than others, of course, but there's plenty of monsters and action in most Greek myth to keep Nero plenty entertained if he's able to track what's happening. And what Vergil says is true. Greek myth serves as a foundation of Western literature, and he's more than clever enough to draw those comparisons. Vergil knows it. He just needs to give it a chance, and have it presented in a manner he can enjoy it rather than have it be some dry academic discussion.]
The Greeks wrote poetry about wrestling, you know. And not just about the mythic heroes against their monstrous foes. They held the sport in high regard, and as the greatest demonstration of human strength. [He huffs a small, quiet laugh.] Of course, their wrestling was far more violent than the wrestling you watch. Even the Romans felt the Greeks needed to "chill out," to borrow a phrase from you.
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[He assumes "more violent" than professional wrestling is probably referring to the fact that his wrestling is staged. So does that mean they were actually beating each other with chairs? And writing poems about it?
Yeah, actually, he could get behind this shit.
Nero leans his head back into those head strokes like a cat seeking the contact.]
So you're saying the fact it's violent and there's monsters makes it... tantalizing, for me?
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[Perhaps it is a bit odd for so true and sentimental statement to come now, but Vergil is nothing less than sincere in that belief and finds it merit saying given the day's events. To him, Nero is limitless in all that he can do. There is nothing he cannot accomplish nor obtain once his mind is set to it. Whatever it takes, he'll push himself to see it through to the end. Nero simply is all Vergil thought to be the impossible with all his strength and love.]
[But still he borrows a small page from Dante and Nero's book, lessening the weight of his words a little with a slight tease, mussing up Nero's hair in the process.]
You're far too damned stubborn to let it be otherwise.
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The deflecting joke makes him blink hard, then laugh. The tears are neatly chased away and he can find the words to respond to that.]
Damn straight.
[Then with another smile over his shoulder, he resumes reading his book and lets Vergil get back to his, as well. Everything is perfect and peaceful and content.
For almost ten minutes this time.]
Uh. "Scrupulous?"
[I'm sorry, Vergil. He pronounces it "scrupple-us."]
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Scrupulous. [Correctly pronounced, but with a neutral tone that does not condescend for his mispronunciation. "Scrupple-us" was not a bad guess for how it is written. He doesn't immediately throw out the answer though. This one, Vergil thinks, Nero can probably come to the correct definition on his own.] Have you come across the word "scruple" before? It's a related word.
[Vergil is willing to wager he has at some point or another given his upbringing in a religious cult. In that instance, even if he still doesn't know the exact meaning, context should certainly fill it out enough to point him in the right direction. And barring that, his mother's literature has certainly used the word. Nero may have taken the time to look the word up while trying to read the books on his own and can make the bridge all on his own in understanding the word. Hence the confidence Nero can probably reason this one out one way or another without as much direct input from Vergil.]
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After a think, complete with scrunched brows and pursed lips, Nero recalls it.]
"Guard thy scruples more diligently than the greatest treasure." [Said in a mockery of some dry-ass old fart speaking to the congregation.
He takes another moment to consider that context and then finally has to confess.]
I once decided it meant "balls." Heh.
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[Vergil heaves an audible, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head slightly. It's a small wonder that didn't just inspire a headache, but perhaps that is a credit to an increased tolerance in contending with Dante's nonsense for so long. He lowers his hand and looks down at Nero.]
And when setting aside the height of comedy and cleverness that is your adolescent sense of humor?
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Something that you have... that should be protected securely... but not your balls...]
I don't know. Money?
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So, knowing that, if I described someone you had not yet met as being scrupulous, what would you assume about them? What do you assume they would be like were they to be faced with a difficult choice?
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Well. No. It's a little swell of those old feelings, but it's not so bad when it's Vergil. He can hear the way he's tempering his voice so he doesn't sound condescending or like this is beneath him to explain.
Still doesn't make him like being asked questions like that, or keep him from squirming just a little bit.]
They... do what they think is right? Whatever that is?
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Exactly right, [he says with a small nod.] Someone who is scrupulous is generally considered to be incorruptible. They follow their morals closely, and often without deviation. However, if a situation arises that challenges their morality, they may struggle more than another person with a more flexible sense of morality. That lack of flexibility also gives the word an additional meaning of meticulousness depending on its context.
But the classic example you will most often see in literature of a scrupulous character is usually one struggling between what they've been raised to believe right and wrong, and a desire or temptation of some kind. Some of the books your mother favored often involve strong, genuine feelings of love for a man that the heroine should not love due to the societal norms they were raised with. Although in those stories your mother loved, love triumphs over all, not every author writes such happy endings and reaches the same conclusion as that priest.
[For as quiet as Vergil is, he becomes immediately and incredibly verbose the moment he's allowed to discuss something like this. Of course, this sort of chattiness is not a particular issue most of the time, but with that shortness of breath, Vergil leans a little towards the coffee table for his glass of water to have a drink by the conclusion of his words.]
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Yeah, okay... that makes sense.
[He refrains from cracking wise about Vergil needing a drink after that. Since you know, he's the one who keeps interrupting for word definitions.] Thanks. You're better than a dictionary. [He reaches back to give Vergil a fond pat on the leg, then picks up his book again to fit the meaning of "scrupulous" into the sentence.
Ah, okay... though he still thinks "balls" would work. Like, metaphorically maybe!]
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[The little disruptions slow Vergil's reading down a bit as he must pause in his reading to either provide the definitions or help Nero reason his way through it, but he hardly minds it any more than he does when Nero ends up wiggling his way into a different position. If anything, the disruptions are helpful in their own way as Vergil comes to realize that the shortness of breath is apparently not the only bit of fatigue he's liable to experience throughout the course of this illness. It's a strange and foreign experience, but his eyes begin to feel increasingly fatigued with reading words on a page. The little breaks to explain something to Nero provides him with the opportunity to take a break and prolong his ability to read for just a little bit longer.]
[What's doing him less favors, however, is Nero's nearby warmth and weight.]
[Vergil fights against it for as long as he can. When he doesn't have Nero as a distraction, he opts to look away from the page, refocus his eyes elsewhere for a moment before returning to reread the paragraph again. He slows his pace down considerably, trying to make the words stick in his mind and grasp at their meaning. But there's only so much fight he can put up. Vergil eventually sinks a little further into the couch during some of Nero's fidgeting into another position, more reclined than he was before. Rereading a paragraph becomes rereading a sentence, a word as drowsiness has him blinking in and out of consciousness.]
[There's a light thump as his grip on his book loosens to near total release, the novel falling onto his chest. But Vergil does not so much as stir let alone suddenly jerk awake over it dropping.]
[So, it turns out that under the right circumstances Vergil may, in fact, nap after all.]
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And then there's this shit: "The police arrived at the station in a macabre parade."
Muh caber? Ma sabre? Mackabray?
He almost feels bad interrupting again after a long pause without, but...] Uh... what is...
[Then he hears the little thump. A telltale slow breath. Nero shifts very carefully to look up and see that Mr. No Naps has fallen asleep. Well, good! Stubborn bastard needs the rest. He looks almost cute with that book on his chest...
Nero waits a few more minutes to ensure his wiggling and movement doesn't stir Vergil, because you just know the idiot will never allow himself to fall back asleep if that happens. Once he's pretty certain he's steadily sleeping, Nero sits up, setting his book on the coffee table. He gently moves Vergil's book to join it, then grabs the throw off the back of the couch and unfolds it (Kyrie lives with them now, of course they have a throw on the couch.) Gently tucking it around Vergil, he leaves him to nap on the couch and goes to tidy up the living room, including putting Vergil's book bag back in his room and closing the blinds to make it a bit darker.
Sleep tight, old man. Nero will protect your nap like a mackabray guardian.]