[For once, Nero doesn't belabor the point or try to make Vergil acknowledge his feelings on the matter. He takes the quick and insistent brush-off of the gratitude as a sign that he shouldn't keep harping on it. Maybe Vergil will be more comfortable simply moving on from it.
That's fine with him. Actions speak louder than words, after all... and he's had all evening to himself to think about what actions he could speak with here.]
Oh, nice! Curry's awesome. Place up in Wintermute?
[Having filled up on grilled cheese and chips, he will be saving that curry for later... maybe tomorrow. They say it tastes better the next day anyway. Kyrie's curry goes from "delicious" the night of to "fuckin' sublime" as leftovers.
He will be drinking that hot chocolate now, though. Taking a moment to enjoy the scent, he perks up at cinnamon and chili pepper. Then he very gingerly tests a tiny drop to make sure he doesn't burn the shit out of his tongue on that lid. Done that more than a few times before.]
The Wandering Dog. It's a food cart primarily in Wintermute that occasionally travels around Folkmore. It is my understanding the menu changes to accommodate the regions. Hot food and drinks where it is colder, cold food and drinks where it is hotter, [Vergil says as he retrieves a plate and spoon for himself. The food cart may have its theme and remain quite dedicated to it, but he's not particularly interested in eating out of essentially dog bowls. He sets both down near to his stack of containers before sitting down himself. There's a slight pause at Nero's second question before he answers it.] I did.
[Normally, Vergil would not opt to remain in his slightly damp clothes, but he is hungry enough to postpone the shower and change of clothes until after he's had a chance to eat. He opens the first container, one that is slightly smaller than the other two and places it where Nero can reach if he's interested. Lamb dumplings encircle a dipping sauce that Vergil also removes the lid.]
[For a brief moment, Vergil thinks to leave it there. He answered the question and the specifics really don't matter. But then as he's removing the lids to his rice and curry, he wonders if perhaps that was Nero attempting to invite him into conversation. Tentatively, he fleshes out his answer a little bit more.]
I was sparring with Mizu. So, it was actually worse a little while ago. [Even with Vergil holding back to the extent that he does, Mizu and Vergil's sparring sessions are still intense, and snow ends up everywhere. Which is really no trouble during their duels, but afterward... Well, Vergil doesn't need to fish for excuses to linger about after they spar and she has recovered now, but the lack of dry clothes does have a tendency to shorten their time together a bit. He will have to remember to bring a change of clothes for next time. He spoons out some of the rice onto his plate.] I was able to dry off some while he was recovering before returning home.
[...And while they spent some time together. Soaked clothes shortened their time, but didn't prevent it. Not entirely. Vergil, however, leaves that detail of it out, glancing at Nero. It occurs to him that now could possibly be a time to clarify his relationship with Mizu. Nero and he talked through some of the more challenging elephants in the room that it doesn't necessarily feel quite as low of a priority as it had before, and while the boy didn't exactly have a right to know, he may appreciate knowing some piece of Vergil's life without having to ask for it. But... Vergil decides to leave it be for now. It doesn't feel yet like the right time to mention it.]
Have you been at that all evening? [he asks instead, nodding to Blue Rose.]
Cute. I like the theming. [Nero gestures to the shape of the bowls. He also has to assume by now that the proprietor is an actual dog, so... that's a cute mental image, a dog stirring a big bowl of curry.
He nods at the mention of sparring Mizu. Somehow that doesn't surprise him. He can't think of any other reason, really, for Vergil to go standing around in the snow. It's probably nice and quiet there, but even an introvert like Vergil has to have his limits as far as the weather goes. Nero off-handedly wonders how many times Mizu and Vergil stabbed one another. Or attempted to, anyway.
He'd kind of like to watch sometime. Though it feels a little hypocritical given his feelings on the other way around...
As Vergil settles in, he tilts Blue Rose to show him exactly what he's doing.]
Yeah. Didn't get the chance to clean her up with everything that happened... poor thing had blood and gunk all over her insides. [A gesture at his cleaning cloth pile.] Got her nice and clean now though. If anything needs shooting, she's ready.
You shouldn't have much need of her, [Vergil says, setting aside the emptied container of rice, trading it for the container of curry to be added to his plate. Vergil's wording phrasing of how much use he's likely to see of Blue Rose is intentional, too. It is not as though there are never any threats whatsoever in Folkmore, but rather instead, the vast majority are ones that Nero will need to seek out for himself. It's been an adjustment for Vergil, and so he imagines the same must be true for Nero as well even if it's less dramatic of an adjustment.] But it's good you're prepared in the event that you might.
[Internally, Vergil winces at the words that leave his mouth. The last time he offered overt praise, Nero rolled his eyes and unequivocally rejected it. Vergil could not particularly understood why Nero seemed to take such offense to it beyond perhaps its coupling with a joke that was not particularly well-received was the cause of it even with more time to think upon it. Still, even in the absence of such a joke, Vergil cannot help but abruptly avert his gaze to his plate rather than on Nero to see his reaction. He's been exceptionally careful not to comment on what Nero does since then to avoid the previous misstep, and here he's gone and thoughtlessly made a comment. He pushes past it as quickly as he can in an attempt to sidestep anything his words might have kicked up.]
I'm sorry I could not secure more ammunition for you right away. I know it would likely feel better to put her to some use sooner rather than later.
[Vergil imagines this is the longest Nero has gone without Blue Rose since he's had the gun. So, Vergil assumes Nero would be satisfied with just messing around with the gun in some light target practice to reconnect with the weapon and test that everything truly is in working order in the absence of getting real use out of Blue Rose right away.]
[Nero is completely oblivious to Vergil's stresses about praising him. The last time when he did roll his eyes at Vergil, it was because at the time he found it patronizing and a little silly a thing to praise him for. He has, however, completely forgotten that exchange ever happened.
He shows absolutely no sign of being even slightly flustered or put-off.]
That's all right. I'm sure she was expensive. And I'm hoping I can work past the need for ammo anyway... or at least practice. [He glances up.] You've seen what Dante does with Ebony and Ivory, right? Or what you do with the... [He is not really sure what Vergil calls them, but he pantomimes the sharp, flying blades of energy that he conjures.]
[Internally, there is a sigh of relief that Vergil appears to have managed to divert the conversation further along with only a minor acknowledgment of the praise he offered Nero.]
Mirage blades, [Vergil supplies, helpfully.] Although my blades are not the same as his bullets.
[Some of that is out of distaste for firearms that Vergil cannot allow the comparison to be without any challenge. That certainly cannot be ignored. But Vergil's mirage blades serve as more than just mere ranged attacks as Dante's bullets often serve for him. Although to that end, with Dante's (unnecessary) advice about not being too hard on Nero and their shared hesitation in engaging too much on the matter of fighting with one another just yet, Vergil tentatively offers a bit of advice.]
...It took me some practice to summon more than one blade at a time. And I'm sure the same was true for Dante and his bullets. It may be of some benefit to see if he will allow you to practice with Ebony or Ivory to start before trying it with Blue Rose.
[He'd like to ask how they're different, but he predicts the answer is going to be extremely long and complex and he won't understand shit of it anyway. Not right now, at least, when he's still so new to all of this and how to use it.
Vergil offers a tip though, and Nero thinks on it for a moment.]
I can do something... similar. Throw a little extra punch into every bullet. I imagine it won't be all that different to do it from scratch, without the bullets.
[Which leads him to circle back around to that other question again...]
How is it different than Dante's bullets? Could you show me how to do it sometime?
[Vergil nods his agreement that Nero's charged shots provide him with an adequate starting point. It's certainly far better than what Vergil started with when he was a boy. He doesn't answer Nero's questions immediately, not even after swallowing his bite of food, as he tries to think of a succinct way of putting it that Nero may understand and grappling with how to answer the second.]
You might think of Dante's bullets as a more...rudimentary version of my blades. His bullets pierce and damage, but I am able to do more than just that with my blades.
[It feels the best way Vergil can put it without outright calling Dante out for not developing his demonic abilities as far as he most likely could if he willed it. Not that his bullets could possibly do everything Vergil uses his blades for given there's no real good way for a bullet to serve as a defensive option. But just as Vergil is able to pin and more successfully launch his targets at will, Dante could likely do the same if he put his mind to it.]
[As to the second question...]
Whatever you wish to learn, I am willing to guide you in learning.
[Vergil hopes Nero understands his meaning beyond mere agreeableness to serve as a teacher. He doesn't anticipate that Nero will adopt many of Vergil's techniques. Vergil is more based in precision and speed in his technique rather than packing a powerful punch as Dante often does. If he had to guess from his small sampling of Nero's style, he's going to inherently lean more towards his uncle's way of doing things than Vergil. But if Vergil's techniques can be applied in a way that works for Nero, he's more than happy to contribute to his learning.]
[When Nero feels ready to learn, of course. Although, Vergil leaves that part unspoken to avoid making Nero feel pushed in any direction.]
[He doesn't look... openly puzzled by that answer, but it definitely raises more questions along with his eyebrow. What exactly can Vergil do with a mirage blade that isn't "piercing and damaging?" Is that not what blades are for? He objects slightly to the word "rudimentary" applied to Dante's gunplay too. Whatever his uncle does with Ebony and Ivory is so flashy and effective that calling it anything less than skilled seems to be selling him short. And he can admit, he's a little defensive about Dante when it comes to this sort of thing.
It's not that anybody is worse than anybody else. They just fight differently. Vergil's precision and expertise. Dante's rapid-fire flash and pizzaz. And Nero's... one big bang after another. Sounds about right.]
Well, let's go out and try it sometime. I'm sure I can do it. Channeling my energy was like the third thing I ever learned how to do with it.
[Vergil nods slightly in agreement. Although he keeps it to himself, he is curious to see how much Nero is able to do without changing his form. It's possible that it may be impossible for him to do certain things like manifesting a spectral form of Yamato without being in devil trigger, but perhaps he might be able to channel his energy enough to manifest projectiles in the absence of a weapon as Vergil is able to without needing to rely on his other demonic form.]
Start with your bullets with Dante first. Once you come to possess some mastery over that, we can talk. You will have a better sense of both what comes naturally to you and your current limits by then.
[Which, in turn, will provide them with the opportunity to figure out which of those limits can be circumvented or pushed past, and which Nero will simply need to accept and strategize around. To that end, there is a slight hesitation before Vergil adds,]
...I would like to see if we can expand upon your endurance. You possess a great amount of strength, but it concerns me that you run the risk of burning yourself out quickly. [And under certain circumstances that could spell disaster for Nero. A big attack is only as effective if it is both able to eliminate the opposition and leave Nero still standing.] If you are to push beyond what you can currently do, you will need that greater endurance to accomplish it the way I anticipate you will want to do it.
[Vergil tries to frame it in the most direct, matter-of-fact manner that he can to avoid making it seem a criticism of Nero's style or way of doing things. If anything, Vergil intends for it to be the opposite, and more a recognition that what he wants to accomplish is going to require a lot of him and likely push him harder than he's ever been thus far. And he knows Nero possesses the will to wield his strength as effectively as he can. There is no doubt in that. But developing that endurance... It's easily the hardest thing to develop. Both Sparda twins have struggled with it in their own journeys to master their demonic abilities even if there's a degree to which both of them (yes, even Dante) now make it look effortless.]
[There's a bit of an irritable sigh at that, for some reason. But it's not as though he's actually irritated. It just feels like there's ten thousand things he's behind on without even being aware of them. Every day he discovers more, and has to figure out what damn order it all goes in.
Yeah, yeah... Dante told him not to compare himself to him and Vergil. He's younger, less experienced, and a whole fraction less powerful to boot. But it's awfully hard not to feel hopelessly outclassed no matter what he tries.
He can't really argue about the endurance though. His expression might be a bit sour but he does try not to sound too prickly in his response.] Yeah. I know. Physically, I'm fine, but I can't Devil Trigger more than a minute.
[The expression doesn't come as much of a surprise, nor does the...terseness of the reply. It's why Vergil doesn't believe he's necessarily said anything particularly wrong or crossing a line, nor does he take it as a personal offense. Vergil also knows he wouldn't react much better in his youth if the topic of conversation ever came up. If anything, Vergil's reaction would be worse and even harder on himself than Nero appears to be towards himself.]
That is the most direct way, yes. But the more you develop your repertoire, you will have more ways to push yourself than just maintaining that form.
[Learning to manifest more than one blade at a time will help his endurance just as much as maintaining his devil trigger will, and will likely be of more interest to him anyway given that invites a bit more thought.]
Figures. [Another sigh, shorter this time, leading into a shrug.] I always hated training drills... and Credo used to bitch at me about how important they were. Should've known he was right.
[He takes up his cup and has a sip of his hot chocolate. Then a second, when he tastes something not-chocolate in there. Is that... spice? Both in that it's a spice and it's spicy? Hmm... need to try a little more before he can put his finger on it.]
Shit. It's been like hitting puberty all over again.
[Vergil wrinkles his nose slightly at the comparison, but eats his bite of dinner rather than attempting to talk around it to comment. He lets it go in the end.]
Regardless of how much aggravation you feel at the prospect of training like that, it will be worth it in the end.
[And a better way to learn than either Sparda twin learned even if Nero is justified in complaints of tedium with the method. In all honesty, Vergil finds himself a little envious of Nero even if he's unwilling to say as much out loud. While Vergil would never diminish his own accomplishments by implying it ultimately inferior, it would have been better to have Sparda guiding him in mastering his abilities rather than being left to figure it out on his own and through necessity. That was simple objective fact as far as Vergil was concerned, and not just mere speculation.]
But you had best think twice before attempting to show me up if you start outpacing me, child. I won't allow for that.
[He's teasing, of course. Not about the prospect that Nero could someday grow greater in strength and talent than his father before him, but the notion that Vergil would feel such immediate envy that he would feel the need to put Nero back in his place. Just as Dante and Vergil have arguably surpassed their father, it should only be natural that Nero ought to someday surpass Vergil as well. There may be a bit of a bruised pride and ego there still with as much as Vergil has sought the ability to dominate over all others with his power, of course, but it would be summarily eclipsed by the pride he would feel in Nero that it would not matter.]
["Child." Nero can't help but twitch a little every time he hears it. Though it's become obvious now that it's Vergil's stilted, stuffy attempt at a nickname or... an endearment, even, rather than some kind of insult meant to belittle or patronize him. It still earns his father a side-eye and a smirk, along with that teasing warning.]
Sorry to say, old man, showing you up's gonna be my victory lap.
[So far, "old man" has been reserved for Dante in the sense that Nero frequently calls him old. Maybe it's a good sign that he's comfortable enough to try it out on Vergil... in the sense that Vergil is, in fact, his old man.
And also old.
He takes another sip of his cocoa, and with his other hand turns down the volume on his wrestling match. They've started pummeling each other with chairs now, and this indicates he actually wants to chat with Vergil.
Nero would ask how Vergil trained his powers back when he was young, except he gets the feeling he already knows the answer. And that he wouldn't get a straight one out of Vergil anyway.]
My powers always have been kind of fucky. Always been more or less how I could best make it work, rather than actually knowing how anything worked.
[It's rare that Vergil finds himself taken off-guard. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say that it's rare for him to find himself taken off-guard in this specific manner where the surprise of it doesn't fill him with frustration or leave him agitated. But Nero calls him "old man" and not by his name, and it doesn't really matter whether he means it in the familial sense or the way Dante does when he's trying to get a rise out of Vergil; the surprise is a pleasant and warm one. As Nero sets about with adjusting the volume on his Relic, Vergil simply remains still a moment with just the faintest of smiles before he returns to eating.]
[There's a thoughtful hum to Nero's brief albeit colorful means of describing coming into his powers.]
I suppose more awareness is one small benefit Dante and I both had in the brief time our father was with us. [Sparda never had the opportunity to teach his boys properly, but they were at least aware of their heritages and had more to go on than...whatever exactly happened to Nero.] How old were you when your powers began to emerge?
[Nero smiles a little crookedly at the question. It's the sort of wry amusement that comes after many, many years of processing, learning, and dealing with how difficult and complicated his heritage has made his life. These days, he's learned to accept his powers as a vital part of who he is. It's easier now to look back with empathy and even some fondness on his prior struggles. Frustration. Abject fear.]
I was always more athletic than the other kids. Ran faster. Way stronger, even more than the adults, especially when I joined the knights. But I didn't think anything was wrong until my arm happened.
[He absently reaches over to touch his now human-looking right forearm.]
[It's hard not to at least glance at Nero's arm, especially when he reaches over to touch it, but Vergil keeps it to just a glance before quickly averting his gaze. He's apologized, and for all intents and purposes, he is forgiven. But there is still a tug of some kind of complicated emotion that he doesn't particularly wish to dwell upon any further than he already has.]
What happened exactly?
[Body parts suddenly becoming permanently demonic wasn't exactly part of Vergil's own experience, and he would hazard a guess the same was true for Dante. So, he cannot even begin to guess what would cause something like that in the first place.]
[Incredibly, Nero's not even thinking about the loss of his arm at the moment. He's focused further back, to that day in the woods and the troubles that followed.]
I got hurt, saving Kyrie and some kids from a demon. Slashed my arm up pretty good. Then instead of healing the wound... changed. Turned weird colors, and started to spread until it overtook my whole arm. [He does not feel a particular need to describe the specifics of how it looks. Vergil's seen it.]
At first, I thought I got infected with something. Totally thought I was gonna die. Then I realized it was demonic. I just... felt it and knew.
[Which was, at the time, worse than thinking he was dying.]
I thought I was turning into a demon. I was really scared, and I knew the Order would freak out if they knew. So I pretended my arm was still hurt, wore a sling, and learned to fight one-handed.
[He was too frightened to tell even Credo or Kyrie. Especially Kyrie. And at the time he knew he wouldn't be able to hide it forever. Fortunately, his instincts back then had been correct; if Order freaks like Agnus had found out about his powers, at best he'd have been thrown in a cage and experimented on. At worse, plugged into the false Savior as a battery much, much sooner.]
[Vergil continues to eat while he listens to Nero's recounting of how his arm came to be, and hums thoughtfully at its conclusion. It sounds as though perhaps his healing factor was attempting to manifest, but it was not able to do so completely. The reasons for why it would not awaken completely, if Vergil had to hazard a guess, likely stemmed from Nero's ignorance of his heritage. Not knowing of the demonic blood that flowed within his veins, he wouldn't have any idea of the power within him to properly awaken it. It is little wonder that it's taken him this long to begin truly tapping into the full potential of his abilities. Had he never crossed paths with Dante and everything else that unfolded, it's likely it would have taken longer. Assuming that it ever happened at all, of course.]
Given the circumstances, you did the best you likely could have. [Which is not some form of awkward praise from Vergil, so much as it's his observation of what Nero's shared with him about what happened when his demonic powers first manifested. Vergil finally reaches for his own hot chocolate and takes a sip. Unlike Nero's there's no spicy kick to Vergil's; it's a white chocolate with lavender instead.] I assume when you came to possess it, Yamato was able to awaken more of your power.
[It is, after all, what it did for Vergil. It would only make sense that the blade would do the same for Nero, especially if it was willing to submit to him as a temporary master in Vergil's absence.]
[Nero nods. It's not necessarily meant to be a compliment, he doesn't think, but he does appreciate Vergil's insight on his... learning process. (Some part of him is too ready to imagine him scorning Nero for being weak or incomplete, fumbling pathetically to utilize his power. At this point, he suspects that's more of him projecting than it is any judgment or view of Vergil.)]
It was broken. The Order had it in pieces in their lab, and their asshole chief alchemist was fucking around with it. When I went down there, his demons attacked me and... [He pauses a moment before he goes on.] I think I might have died? Or I at least came close.
Then Yamato saved me. Or my real power woke up. Maybe both? But the sword fixed itself and that's when I was able to use it.
[There's the barest shift in Vergil's expression when Nero discloses his near-death experience. When he assumed that the Yamato must have done for Nero what it did for him, he did not think nor intend for it to be that similar... If anything, he would hope that was one thing they would not share out of all the possibilities. What sort of parent would he be if he were not to hope for as much? When he glances down toward his food, that shift in his expression remains, his quiet afterward now tinged by a sort of ache he does not entirely know how he would describe.]
We've that in common then, [he says, offering a mild explanation for his reaction, but otherwise choosing to let the matter rest. There is no need to dig into the specifics of his past now.]
[That info is clearly painful for Vergil somehow. Well, really... take your pick. Nero (nearly) dying? Yamato being broken and used by Order scumbags?
When he reveals that Yamato once saved him too, Nero makes a weak smile and glances away. He's certainly not going to ask for the specifics, there.]
Good ol' Yamato. [By reflex, he reaches over and sets a hand on Vergil's elbow as though to comfort him. So reflexive he isn't even aware he's doing it until he does, at which point he pauses and then slowly withdraws it once he... thinks it won't be awkward. Is he allowed to touch Vergil yet?] Dante said that's how he knew who I was. The way Yamato responded to me.
[Of course, Nero had not the slightest clue at the time. Not who Vergil was, not what Yamato was capable of, not even really why it was the catalyst to pull that phantom demon out of Nero's skin. First it was his arm. Then the voices in his dreams. Then that ghostly reflection that echoed Nero's true power, even if he wasn't strong enough to manifest it yet.]
At some point... I stopped being afraid. My arm was weird, but it never hurt and never felt wrong. And I realized everything my power could do, if I chose to embrace it. So I thought, maybe my arm was turning into what it was always meant to. I was always different from everyone else... and maybe I was supposed to be.
[He meets Vergil's eyes briefly, then glances back down at his hands wrapped around the cup of cocoa.]
Being part demon hasn't always been easy. But it's part of me. I stopped hiding my arm after the Savior shit. People can either take me as I am, or get bent.
[Vergil glances at the hand on his elbow, but there is no further reaction to it even if he finds it initially a little puzzling. It's only as Nero takes his hand back that Vergil realizes it was meant to be a gesture of comfort, and he feels a touch foolish for not immediately recognizing it as such. Vergil recovers quickly from the mild amount of embarrassment, however, and refocuses on Nero, nodding a little at Dante's telling of how he knew for certain who Nero was since he'd received the same story from Dante as far as that was concerned. The rest earns a smile from Vergil. It starts off small as Nero begins to describe the change, but by the end, it's likely the most Nero has ever seen his father smile yet. More than that, however, there is a distinct sense of pride in his eyes as he looks at Nero.]
Good. [While not exactly timid or presenting as wilting, Vergil has a noticeable tendency to be quite careful in the words he chooses to use with Nero. Now, there is no such care taken insomuch it's clear that it is from his own convictions, from his very core that Vergil now speaks. It is something that he knows rather than something he's spent a great deal of time overthinking before attempting to voice. To that end, Nero may very well reject what Vergil has to say, and that is entirely his prerogative. But for Vergil? This remains firmly true for him.] Your demonic heritage is a gift that should be embraced, but it does not come without its price.
[For all that Dante likely believes that Vergil so blindly embraced demonic power and only relished in the strength it provided him, he did not entirely. After Eva's death, he spent his life hunted because he refused to conceal himself. While it was impossible for him to understand the full extent of what that meant he lost and what he ended up sacrificing in the name of that power until much later, he was not so ignorant that he didn't understand the connection between those that pursued him and his choice to not hide and embrace his father's legacy in the only ways he knew how. It was simply a hardship he was willing to accept.]
It is unlikely that the Order will be the last of those you find who would covet the power in your blood, but you will find there are also some who would doubt your strength because of the heart your mother gifted you with. [Demonic blood sullied by a human womb. Words that still to this day settle uncomfortable within his memories and yet he knows are unlikely to be the last ever spat about their mixed heritage.] But they only succeed in rending your strength from you when you surrender yourself to them. If you remain certain of yourself—the whole of yourself—and you allow no one to lay claim to your power, you will always possess the strength to protect what matters most to you.
[It feels a little like staring into bright lights-- catching a glimpse of the way Vergil's looking at him. It's not the first time he's seen that expression, in little flashes here and there. But this is the first time Vergil's smiled at him so openly-- or at least, the first time he's noticed it so keenly, and known what it means.
His father is proud of him.
For once, he finds himself unwilling to divert his eyes and look away, even though he's keenly aware how brightly he's flushing, and how close he is to the verge of abrupt, impulsive tears. Tearing up, at least. He exhales shakily and wrests back control of his emotions, and knows exactly the sentiment behind them.]
That means a lot, coming from you.
[Merely human. Petulant mortal flesh. Cursed, the moment you were brought into this world. Even as they came in the midst of exhaustion and agony, Nero hasn't forgotten those scornful words, nor has he forgotten that they came from one (dark, unmitigatedly cruel, concentratedly wicked) side of his own father. To see him now, contained, humanized, balanced and proud of him...
When it becomes too much, he glances away, somewhere across the room. He unconsciously grazes his fingers over his chest (over the heart his mother gave him,) and quietly nods.]
That's all I ever wanted. The power to protect the people I care about. Kyrie, and... [One more very brief sideways glance at Vergil before he adds, almost shyly,] my family.
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That's fine with him. Actions speak louder than words, after all... and he's had all evening to himself to think about what actions he could speak with here.]
Oh, nice! Curry's awesome. Place up in Wintermute?
[Having filled up on grilled cheese and chips, he will be saving that curry for later... maybe tomorrow. They say it tastes better the next day anyway. Kyrie's curry goes from "delicious" the night of to "fuckin' sublime" as leftovers.
He will be drinking that hot chocolate now, though. Taking a moment to enjoy the scent, he perks up at cinnamon and chili pepper. Then he very gingerly tests a tiny drop to make sure he doesn't burn the shit out of his tongue on that lid. Done that more than a few times before.]
Have a good night? You look only mildly soggy.
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[Normally, Vergil would not opt to remain in his slightly damp clothes, but he is hungry enough to postpone the shower and change of clothes until after he's had a chance to eat. He opens the first container, one that is slightly smaller than the other two and places it where Nero can reach if he's interested. Lamb dumplings encircle a dipping sauce that Vergil also removes the lid.]
[For a brief moment, Vergil thinks to leave it there. He answered the question and the specifics really don't matter. But then as he's removing the lids to his rice and curry, he wonders if perhaps that was Nero attempting to invite him into conversation. Tentatively, he fleshes out his answer a little bit more.]
I was sparring with Mizu. So, it was actually worse a little while ago. [Even with Vergil holding back to the extent that he does, Mizu and Vergil's sparring sessions are still intense, and snow ends up everywhere. Which is really no trouble during their duels, but afterward... Well, Vergil doesn't need to fish for excuses to linger about after they spar and she has recovered now, but the lack of dry clothes does have a tendency to shorten their time together a bit. He will have to remember to bring a change of clothes for next time. He spoons out some of the rice onto his plate.] I was able to dry off some while he was recovering before returning home.
[...And while they spent some time together. Soaked clothes shortened their time, but didn't prevent it. Not entirely. Vergil, however, leaves that detail of it out, glancing at Nero. It occurs to him that now could possibly be a time to clarify his relationship with Mizu. Nero and he talked through some of the more challenging elephants in the room that it doesn't necessarily feel quite as low of a priority as it had before, and while the boy didn't exactly have a right to know, he may appreciate knowing some piece of Vergil's life without having to ask for it. But... Vergil decides to leave it be for now. It doesn't feel yet like the right time to mention it.]
Have you been at that all evening? [he asks instead, nodding to Blue Rose.]
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He nods at the mention of sparring Mizu. Somehow that doesn't surprise him. He can't think of any other reason, really, for Vergil to go standing around in the snow. It's probably nice and quiet there, but even an introvert like Vergil has to have his limits as far as the weather goes. Nero off-handedly wonders how many times Mizu and Vergil stabbed one another. Or attempted to, anyway.
He'd kind of like to watch sometime. Though it feels a little hypocritical given his feelings on the other way around...
As Vergil settles in, he tilts Blue Rose to show him exactly what he's doing.]
Yeah. Didn't get the chance to clean her up with everything that happened... poor thing had blood and gunk all over her insides. [A gesture at his cleaning cloth pile.] Got her nice and clean now though. If anything needs shooting, she's ready.
Not holding my breath, but she's ready to go.
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[Internally, Vergil winces at the words that leave his mouth. The last time he offered overt praise, Nero rolled his eyes and unequivocally rejected it. Vergil could not particularly understood why Nero seemed to take such offense to it beyond perhaps its coupling with a joke that was not particularly well-received was the cause of it even with more time to think upon it. Still, even in the absence of such a joke, Vergil cannot help but abruptly avert his gaze to his plate rather than on Nero to see his reaction. He's been exceptionally careful not to comment on what Nero does since then to avoid the previous misstep, and here he's gone and thoughtlessly made a comment. He pushes past it as quickly as he can in an attempt to sidestep anything his words might have kicked up.]
I'm sorry I could not secure more ammunition for you right away. I know it would likely feel better to put her to some use sooner rather than later.
[Vergil imagines this is the longest Nero has gone without Blue Rose since he's had the gun. So, Vergil assumes Nero would be satisfied with just messing around with the gun in some light target practice to reconnect with the weapon and test that everything truly is in working order in the absence of getting real use out of Blue Rose right away.]
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[Nero is completely oblivious to Vergil's stresses about praising him. The last time when he did roll his eyes at Vergil, it was because at the time he found it patronizing and a little silly a thing to praise him for. He has, however, completely forgotten that exchange ever happened.
He shows absolutely no sign of being even slightly flustered or put-off.]
That's all right. I'm sure she was expensive. And I'm hoping I can work past the need for ammo anyway... or at least practice. [He glances up.] You've seen what Dante does with Ebony and Ivory, right? Or what you do with the... [He is not really sure what Vergil calls them, but he pantomimes the sharp, flying blades of energy that he conjures.]
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Mirage blades, [Vergil supplies, helpfully.] Although my blades are not the same as his bullets.
[Some of that is out of distaste for firearms that Vergil cannot allow the comparison to be without any challenge. That certainly cannot be ignored. But Vergil's mirage blades serve as more than just mere ranged attacks as Dante's bullets often serve for him. Although to that end, with Dante's (unnecessary) advice about not being too hard on Nero and their shared hesitation in engaging too much on the matter of fighting with one another just yet, Vergil tentatively offers a bit of advice.]
...It took me some practice to summon more than one blade at a time. And I'm sure the same was true for Dante and his bullets. It may be of some benefit to see if he will allow you to practice with Ebony or Ivory to start before trying it with Blue Rose.
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Vergil offers a tip though, and Nero thinks on it for a moment.]
I can do something... similar. Throw a little extra punch into every bullet. I imagine it won't be all that different to do it from scratch, without the bullets.
[Which leads him to circle back around to that other question again...]
How is it different than Dante's bullets? Could you show me how to do it sometime?
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You might think of Dante's bullets as a more...rudimentary version of my blades. His bullets pierce and damage, but I am able to do more than just that with my blades.
[It feels the best way Vergil can put it without outright calling Dante out for not developing his demonic abilities as far as he most likely could if he willed it. Not that his bullets could possibly do everything Vergil uses his blades for given there's no real good way for a bullet to serve as a defensive option. But just as Vergil is able to pin and more successfully launch his targets at will, Dante could likely do the same if he put his mind to it.]
[As to the second question...]
Whatever you wish to learn, I am willing to guide you in learning.
[Vergil hopes Nero understands his meaning beyond mere agreeableness to serve as a teacher. He doesn't anticipate that Nero will adopt many of Vergil's techniques. Vergil is more based in precision and speed in his technique rather than packing a powerful punch as Dante often does. If he had to guess from his small sampling of Nero's style, he's going to inherently lean more towards his uncle's way of doing things than Vergil. But if Vergil's techniques can be applied in a way that works for Nero, he's more than happy to contribute to his learning.]
[When Nero feels ready to learn, of course. Although, Vergil leaves that part unspoken to avoid making Nero feel pushed in any direction.]
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It's not that anybody is worse than anybody else. They just fight differently. Vergil's precision and expertise. Dante's rapid-fire flash and pizzaz. And Nero's... one big bang after another. Sounds about right.]
Well, let's go out and try it sometime. I'm sure I can do it. Channeling my energy was like the third thing I ever learned how to do with it.
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Start with your bullets with Dante first. Once you come to possess some mastery over that, we can talk. You will have a better sense of both what comes naturally to you and your current limits by then.
[Which, in turn, will provide them with the opportunity to figure out which of those limits can be circumvented or pushed past, and which Nero will simply need to accept and strategize around. To that end, there is a slight hesitation before Vergil adds,]
...I would like to see if we can expand upon your endurance. You possess a great amount of strength, but it concerns me that you run the risk of burning yourself out quickly. [And under certain circumstances that could spell disaster for Nero. A big attack is only as effective if it is both able to eliminate the opposition and leave Nero still standing.] If you are to push beyond what you can currently do, you will need that greater endurance to accomplish it the way I anticipate you will want to do it.
[Vergil tries to frame it in the most direct, matter-of-fact manner that he can to avoid making it seem a criticism of Nero's style or way of doing things. If anything, Vergil intends for it to be the opposite, and more a recognition that what he wants to accomplish is going to require a lot of him and likely push him harder than he's ever been thus far. And he knows Nero possesses the will to wield his strength as effectively as he can. There is no doubt in that. But developing that endurance... It's easily the hardest thing to develop. Both Sparda twins have struggled with it in their own journeys to master their demonic abilities even if there's a degree to which both of them (yes, even Dante) now make it look effortless.]
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Yeah, yeah... Dante told him not to compare himself to him and Vergil. He's younger, less experienced, and a whole fraction less powerful to boot. But it's awfully hard not to feel hopelessly outclassed no matter what he tries.
He can't really argue about the endurance though. His expression might be a bit sour but he does try not to sound too prickly in his response.] Yeah. I know. Physically, I'm fine, but I can't Devil Trigger more than a minute.
Dunno what to do besides just... do it, really.
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That is the most direct way, yes. But the more you develop your repertoire, you will have more ways to push yourself than just maintaining that form.
[Learning to manifest more than one blade at a time will help his endurance just as much as maintaining his devil trigger will, and will likely be of more interest to him anyway given that invites a bit more thought.]
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[He takes up his cup and has a sip of his hot chocolate. Then a second, when he tastes something not-chocolate in there. Is that... spice? Both in that it's a spice and it's spicy? Hmm... need to try a little more before he can put his finger on it.]
Shit. It's been like hitting puberty all over again.
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Regardless of how much aggravation you feel at the prospect of training like that, it will be worth it in the end.
[And a better way to learn than either Sparda twin learned even if Nero is justified in complaints of tedium with the method. In all honesty, Vergil finds himself a little envious of Nero even if he's unwilling to say as much out loud. While Vergil would never diminish his own accomplishments by implying it ultimately inferior, it would have been better to have Sparda guiding him in mastering his abilities rather than being left to figure it out on his own and through necessity. That was simple objective fact as far as Vergil was concerned, and not just mere speculation.]
But you had best think twice before attempting to show me up if you start outpacing me, child. I won't allow for that.
[He's teasing, of course. Not about the prospect that Nero could someday grow greater in strength and talent than his father before him, but the notion that Vergil would feel such immediate envy that he would feel the need to put Nero back in his place. Just as Dante and Vergil have arguably surpassed their father, it should only be natural that Nero ought to someday surpass Vergil as well. There may be a bit of a bruised pride and ego there still with as much as Vergil has sought the ability to dominate over all others with his power, of course, but it would be summarily eclipsed by the pride he would feel in Nero that it would not matter.]
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Sorry to say, old man, showing you up's gonna be my victory lap.
[So far, "old man" has been reserved for Dante in the sense that Nero frequently calls him old. Maybe it's a good sign that he's comfortable enough to try it out on Vergil... in the sense that Vergil is, in fact, his old man.
And also old.
He takes another sip of his cocoa, and with his other hand turns down the volume on his wrestling match. They've started pummeling each other with chairs now, and this indicates he actually wants to chat with Vergil.
Nero would ask how Vergil trained his powers back when he was young, except he gets the feeling he already knows the answer. And that he wouldn't get a straight one out of Vergil anyway.]
My powers always have been kind of fucky. Always been more or less how I could best make it work, rather than actually knowing how anything worked.
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[There's a thoughtful hum to Nero's brief albeit colorful means of describing coming into his powers.]
I suppose more awareness is one small benefit Dante and I both had in the brief time our father was with us. [Sparda never had the opportunity to teach his boys properly, but they were at least aware of their heritages and had more to go on than...whatever exactly happened to Nero.] How old were you when your powers began to emerge?
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I was always more athletic than the other kids. Ran faster. Way stronger, even more than the adults, especially when I joined the knights. But I didn't think anything was wrong until my arm happened.
[He absently reaches over to touch his now human-looking right forearm.]
I was 16.
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What happened exactly?
[Body parts suddenly becoming permanently demonic wasn't exactly part of Vergil's own experience, and he would hazard a guess the same was true for Dante. So, he cannot even begin to guess what would cause something like that in the first place.]
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I got hurt, saving Kyrie and some kids from a demon. Slashed my arm up pretty good. Then instead of healing the wound... changed. Turned weird colors, and started to spread until it overtook my whole arm. [He does not feel a particular need to describe the specifics of how it looks. Vergil's seen it.]
At first, I thought I got infected with something. Totally thought I was gonna die. Then I realized it was demonic. I just... felt it and knew.
[Which was, at the time, worse than thinking he was dying.]
I thought I was turning into a demon. I was really scared, and I knew the Order would freak out if they knew. So I pretended my arm was still hurt, wore a sling, and learned to fight one-handed.
[He was too frightened to tell even Credo or Kyrie. Especially Kyrie. And at the time he knew he wouldn't be able to hide it forever. Fortunately, his instincts back then had been correct; if Order freaks like Agnus had found out about his powers, at best he'd have been thrown in a cage and experimented on. At worse, plugged into the false Savior as a battery much, much sooner.]
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Given the circumstances, you did the best you likely could have. [Which is not some form of awkward praise from Vergil, so much as it's his observation of what Nero's shared with him about what happened when his demonic powers first manifested. Vergil finally reaches for his own hot chocolate and takes a sip. Unlike Nero's there's no spicy kick to Vergil's; it's a white chocolate with lavender instead.] I assume when you came to possess it, Yamato was able to awaken more of your power.
[It is, after all, what it did for Vergil. It would only make sense that the blade would do the same for Nero, especially if it was willing to submit to him as a temporary master in Vergil's absence.]
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It was broken. The Order had it in pieces in their lab, and their asshole chief alchemist was fucking around with it. When I went down there, his demons attacked me and... [He pauses a moment before he goes on.] I think I might have died? Or I at least came close.
Then Yamato saved me. Or my real power woke up. Maybe both? But the sword fixed itself and that's when I was able to use it.
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[There's the barest shift in Vergil's expression when Nero discloses his near-death experience. When he assumed that the Yamato must have done for Nero what it did for him, he did not think nor intend for it to be that similar... If anything, he would hope that was one thing they would not share out of all the possibilities. What sort of parent would he be if he were not to hope for as much? When he glances down toward his food, that shift in his expression remains, his quiet afterward now tinged by a sort of ache he does not entirely know how he would describe.]
We've that in common then, [he says, offering a mild explanation for his reaction, but otherwise choosing to let the matter rest. There is no need to dig into the specifics of his past now.]
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When he reveals that Yamato once saved him too, Nero makes a weak smile and glances away. He's certainly not going to ask for the specifics, there.]
Good ol' Yamato. [By reflex, he reaches over and sets a hand on Vergil's elbow as though to comfort him. So reflexive he isn't even aware he's doing it until he does, at which point he pauses and then slowly withdraws it once he... thinks it won't be awkward. Is he allowed to touch Vergil yet?] Dante said that's how he knew who I was. The way Yamato responded to me.
[Of course, Nero had not the slightest clue at the time. Not who Vergil was, not what Yamato was capable of, not even really why it was the catalyst to pull that phantom demon out of Nero's skin. First it was his arm. Then the voices in his dreams. Then that ghostly reflection that echoed Nero's true power, even if he wasn't strong enough to manifest it yet.]
At some point... I stopped being afraid. My arm was weird, but it never hurt and never felt wrong. And I realized everything my power could do, if I chose to embrace it. So I thought, maybe my arm was turning into what it was always meant to. I was always different from everyone else... and maybe I was supposed to be.
[He meets Vergil's eyes briefly, then glances back down at his hands wrapped around the cup of cocoa.]
Being part demon hasn't always been easy. But it's part of me. I stopped hiding my arm after the Savior shit. People can either take me as I am, or get bent.
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Good. [While not exactly timid or presenting as wilting, Vergil has a noticeable tendency to be quite careful in the words he chooses to use with Nero. Now, there is no such care taken insomuch it's clear that it is from his own convictions, from his very core that Vergil now speaks. It is something that he knows rather than something he's spent a great deal of time overthinking before attempting to voice. To that end, Nero may very well reject what Vergil has to say, and that is entirely his prerogative. But for Vergil? This remains firmly true for him.] Your demonic heritage is a gift that should be embraced, but it does not come without its price.
[For all that Dante likely believes that Vergil so blindly embraced demonic power and only relished in the strength it provided him, he did not entirely. After Eva's death, he spent his life hunted because he refused to conceal himself. While it was impossible for him to understand the full extent of what that meant he lost and what he ended up sacrificing in the name of that power until much later, he was not so ignorant that he didn't understand the connection between those that pursued him and his choice to not hide and embrace his father's legacy in the only ways he knew how. It was simply a hardship he was willing to accept.]
It is unlikely that the Order will be the last of those you find who would covet the power in your blood, but you will find there are also some who would doubt your strength because of the heart your mother gifted you with. [Demonic blood sullied by a human womb. Words that still to this day settle uncomfortable within his memories and yet he knows are unlikely to be the last ever spat about their mixed heritage.] But they only succeed in rending your strength from you when you surrender yourself to them. If you remain certain of yourself—the whole of yourself—and you allow no one to lay claim to your power, you will always possess the strength to protect what matters most to you.
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His father is proud of him.
For once, he finds himself unwilling to divert his eyes and look away, even though he's keenly aware how brightly he's flushing, and how close he is to the verge of abrupt, impulsive tears. Tearing up, at least. He exhales shakily and wrests back control of his emotions, and knows exactly the sentiment behind them.]
That means a lot, coming from you.
[Merely human. Petulant mortal flesh. Cursed, the moment you were brought into this world. Even as they came in the midst of exhaustion and agony, Nero hasn't forgotten those scornful words, nor has he forgotten that they came from one (dark, unmitigatedly cruel, concentratedly wicked) side of his own father. To see him now, contained, humanized, balanced and proud of him...
When it becomes too much, he glances away, somewhere across the room. He unconsciously grazes his fingers over his chest (over the heart his mother gave him,) and quietly nods.]
That's all I ever wanted. The power to protect the people I care about. Kyrie, and... [One more very brief sideways glance at Vergil before he adds, almost shyly,] my family.
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