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He shakes his head a little at the expression of gratitude, finding it unnecessary.
"I think you'd agree better this than the alternative of someone else finding you and making a scene over it." No doubt another Star Child would be sent into a panic to find him as bloody of a mess as he was passed out near the train station. Assuming he even made it that far, of course. Vergil isn't unconvinced that he wouldn't have made it more than a few steps before his legs gave out on him from the loss of blood alone. So, if he thinks Vergil is insistent and a pest when it comes to taking care of himself after their fights, he would be in for quite the rude awakening if anyone else with less familiarity with him were to find him. At least Vergil's willing to offer a modicum of trust in Mizu that when he says he will be fine, he's able to believe it. "I hope we can..."
He almost says see one another again, but it feels immediately foolish and causes him to stay his tongue. To Vergil, it's a childish thing to say even if he does enjoy Mizu's company and there is perhaps something here that could be considered a comradery of sorts. Besides, Mizu's focus is on his own goals and his own aims. Not to say that he hasn't been willing to lend Vergil a bit of a hand now and again or that he's been opposed to any time they spend outside of what directly links to those goals, but only a fool would entirely ignoring Mizu's motivations. And Vergil would do well to remember that, he thinks. Lest he get ahead of himself and make a less safe assumption that leads to a tension or fracture in things. He would hate to lose Mizu's company because he chose to be overzealous.
Vergil looks away for a brief moment before he corrects himself, "I hope we can spar again soon."
The sentiment is no less sincere even if it wasn't entirely what he intended to say at first.
"I think you'd agree better this than the alternative of someone else finding you and making a scene over it." No doubt another Star Child would be sent into a panic to find him as bloody of a mess as he was passed out near the train station. Assuming he even made it that far, of course. Vergil isn't unconvinced that he wouldn't have made it more than a few steps before his legs gave out on him from the loss of blood alone. So, if he thinks Vergil is insistent and a pest when it comes to taking care of himself after their fights, he would be in for quite the rude awakening if anyone else with less familiarity with him were to find him. At least Vergil's willing to offer a modicum of trust in Mizu that when he says he will be fine, he's able to believe it. "I hope we can..."
He almost says see one another again, but it feels immediately foolish and causes him to stay his tongue. To Vergil, it's a childish thing to say even if he does enjoy Mizu's company and there is perhaps something here that could be considered a comradery of sorts. Besides, Mizu's focus is on his own goals and his own aims. Not to say that he hasn't been willing to lend Vergil a bit of a hand now and again or that he's been opposed to any time they spend outside of what directly links to those goals, but only a fool would entirely ignoring Mizu's motivations. And Vergil would do well to remember that, he thinks. Lest he get ahead of himself and make a less safe assumption that leads to a tension or fracture in things. He would hate to lose Mizu's company because he chose to be overzealous.
Vergil looks away for a brief moment before he corrects himself, "I hope we can spar again soon."
The sentiment is no less sincere even if it wasn't entirely what he intended to say at first.
Mizu gives an exasperated sigh at that idea. "I do not understand that attitude," Mizu says, "It's entirely different from my time in Japan. There, a woman and child might sit outside in the freezing snow, and no one will do a thing. A person can collapse injured and unconscious, and people will avoid whatever blood or organs they spill."
Mizu nearly died once because no one would give her aid, especially not someone like her. If she hadn't found her motherβ If she hadn't found the woman who first raised her, she would have died. She was a fool then, the way she got that injury. Mizu has learned better. Ah well, Mizu would not let anyone accost her terribly. At worst, she would invoke they take her to Amrita Academy, what passes as the most intensive medical care. Then, once they left, she would take her leave. That would be that.
More water before she leaves, the best no one gets the wrong idea about her ability to walk herself home. She hears the pause in Vergil's words and makes no move to leave while he chooses them. Mizu waits. Then she gives Vergil a weird look. With this healing ability, it will be soon. "We could probably spar again in a few days. Incredibly, needing to spend time at the library may become a larger impediment than anything else. I cannot count on research time on days we spar."
Mizu nearly died once because no one would give her aid, especially not someone like her. If she hadn't found her motherβ If she hadn't found the woman who first raised her, she would have died. She was a fool then, the way she got that injury. Mizu has learned better. Ah well, Mizu would not let anyone accost her terribly. At worst, she would invoke they take her to Amrita Academy, what passes as the most intensive medical care. Then, once they left, she would take her leave. That would be that.
More water before she leaves, the best no one gets the wrong idea about her ability to walk herself home. She hears the pause in Vergil's words and makes no move to leave while he chooses them. Mizu waits. Then she gives Vergil a weird look. With this healing ability, it will be soon. "We could probably spar again in a few days. Incredibly, needing to spend time at the library may become a larger impediment than anything else. I cannot count on research time on days we spar."
He briefly wonders if he's said something wrong at the way Mizu's expression shifts. Not that he had expectations for how Mizu would respond or react, but a strange look wasn't really accounted for and usually doesn't signal the correct thing has been said. However, before Vergil can begin kicking himself for fumbling with his words, Mizu indicates that it may only be a few days before they can do it again. He doesn't release the tension that crept into his shoulders though, uncomfortably folding his arms once more. That feeling of having said something wrong still eats at him, but he pushes it aside for now rather than dwelling upon it.
"You could bring books with you," he suggests. "It would give you something to do without exerting yourself too soon."
Mizu is clearly too stubborn to fully and completely rest as he probably should even with his healing ability. The fact that he was willing to lay down and sleep at all today, and the simple fact he's still seated now after a bit of minor exertion is nothing short of a miracle. But perhaps he would be less eager to bolt before he had enough immediate recovery to manage independently if he felt like the time at rest wasn't such a waste.
"We also do not always have to spar like this either. You said as much yourself that there are other ways for you to improve than merely fighting me. You also previously assured me before you'd improve your hand-to-hand. Neither time with Mirage Edge nor hand-to-hand ought to leave you unable to make use of the rest of your day."
"You could bring books with you," he suggests. "It would give you something to do without exerting yourself too soon."
Mizu is clearly too stubborn to fully and completely rest as he probably should even with his healing ability. The fact that he was willing to lay down and sleep at all today, and the simple fact he's still seated now after a bit of minor exertion is nothing short of a miracle. But perhaps he would be less eager to bolt before he had enough immediate recovery to manage independently if he felt like the time at rest wasn't such a waste.
"We also do not always have to spar like this either. You said as much yourself that there are other ways for you to improve than merely fighting me. You also previously assured me before you'd improve your hand-to-hand. Neither time with Mirage Edge nor hand-to-hand ought to leave you unable to make use of the rest of your day."
Bringing books with her would undoubtedly extend the time she and Vergil spend together, if not paying much attention to each other, after sparring. Perhaps Vergil still wants more assurance she is not about to keel over and only tolerates her insistence she is well enough on her own. Bringing books or some other means to occupy herself would free him up to do as he pleases, and he does like books, while permitting him to keep an eye on her and assure himself the fragile human is not about to expire. That earns a rise in her mood, but it does not have time to express itself.
Time with Mirage Edge.
That simple phrase amid the conversation about alternative sparring options sends her heart racing through her chest. She will get to wield it again? His sword. Not his primary sword, no, but his sword, a sword he made. The sense of responsibility to keep watch or the desire to face a better opponent are not enough to explain such a great allowance with something so personal. Mizu has no idea what has moved Vergil to such lengths, but she dare not ask, lest that prompt him to remove his offer, his permission.
Mizu makes note to work on forging blades like Mirage Edge for practice. She can always reforge the same steel time and again. There are not enough Star Children for her to master it. She could give each a blade of questionable quality and still not have one that meets her standards. Her standards are high, higher than some people's yes, but best she make one she likes. There will be more time spent forging in her future. Oh right, conversation.
"I am improving my hand-to-hand. I'd planned to reach a certain level, but," Mizu shrugs. She can handle losing, much as she isn't used to losing while grappling, even against larger opponents. "We can always practice before then. And Mirage Edge..." There's nowhere to look to see the blade, disappeared as it is. "It would be a pleasure." An absolutely heartfelt sentiment.
She smirks. "I assure you that I have never relied solely upon fighting you to improve my skills. I set aside time daily to train. I never want my skills to rust."
Time with Mirage Edge.
That simple phrase amid the conversation about alternative sparring options sends her heart racing through her chest. She will get to wield it again? His sword. Not his primary sword, no, but his sword, a sword he made. The sense of responsibility to keep watch or the desire to face a better opponent are not enough to explain such a great allowance with something so personal. Mizu has no idea what has moved Vergil to such lengths, but she dare not ask, lest that prompt him to remove his offer, his permission.
Mizu makes note to work on forging blades like Mirage Edge for practice. She can always reforge the same steel time and again. There are not enough Star Children for her to master it. She could give each a blade of questionable quality and still not have one that meets her standards. Her standards are high, higher than some people's yes, but best she make one she likes. There will be more time spent forging in her future. Oh right, conversation.
"I am improving my hand-to-hand. I'd planned to reach a certain level, but," Mizu shrugs. She can handle losing, much as she isn't used to losing while grappling, even against larger opponents. "We can always practice before then. And Mirage Edge..." There's nowhere to look to see the blade, disappeared as it is. "It would be a pleasure." An absolutely heartfelt sentiment.
She smirks. "I assure you that I have never relied solely upon fighting you to improve my skills. I set aside time daily to train. I never want my skills to rust."
"I would expect nothing less."
Being in Folkmore doesn't appear to have lessened Mizu's desire for revenge in any meaningful way. Perhaps it is delaying it a bit in terms of direct action, but that delay does not mean much to Mizu. He's eager, but he's willing to demonstrate some patience and take advantage of the time he has here to study, learn, and train. Vergil wonders if the same would be true if he hadn't come here, but he doesn't think so. If there was a genuine barrier to Mizu pursuing his quarry, he'd seek the path forward while maintaining his skills. Obstacles could never likely dissuade something that seems to be so deeply embedded into the fabric of Mizu's being that it pulses through him with every beating of his heart.
"You would be boring if otherwise were true." It would be too stagnant in fighting Mizu again and again if there weren't signs of improvement each time, if Mizu didn't push him in his own way. "I can assure you that it's not a reflection of your skills or strength, so I don't mean it as an insult, but it's actually more difficult for me to hold back than anything else when we fight. Outside of fights and sparring as a child with Dante, every fight for me has been to the death."
He hums in light amusement as he looks away from Mizu again. In the grand scheme of his life, most were no contest. He dispatched his foes quickly and easily, usually with a single strike of Yamato. A few, however, Vergil's life was on the line, too, not just his opponent's life. There was no room for mistakes or easing up at any point during those battles, and Vergil had to use every ounce of his strength and power to see them through to the end.
"You're not the same. Each time we've fought, you've grown even if it's just a little. It keeps it...interesting. I have to rely on more than just my power alone, and the more you improve, the more I must think." He looks back at Mizu again, considering the other man for a moment before he smiles faintly and looks back outside the balcony. "I suppose in a strange sense, I almost want to see you defeat me in battle someday. For a human to have worked so hard and honed his skills so much to accomplish something like that, I would think of that as something remarkable, not shameful."
Vergil still views it as an impossible feat. As he said, he's holding back a great deal in each fight with Mizu to avoid putting an end to their sparring too early or to bring about irrevocable harm to Mizu. Even as Mizu grows and Vergil happens to find himself needing to access more of his power to maintain his victory over the other swordsman, there is still a great wealth of it not yet tapped into. It's unlikely Mizu will ever go that far as a human to result in Vergil approaching their sparring with his all. But he would not rob Mizu of the accomplishment if it were to happen. Bruised as Vergil's ego would be in the moment for losing, another part of him wouldn't see it as a shameful defeat and would be able to recognize all that Mizu would have had to do to get to that point.
"That being said, if your plan next time is more explosives, I would advise you to reconsider." He glances at Mizu out of the corner of his eye. "You reveal things as well each time we fight, Mizu, and you would do well to remember that."
He's mostly teasing, but there's also an undercurrent to which he is being sincere, too. Mizu won't be able to pull something like the stunt he pulled today again. Vergil will be prepared for it next time.
Being in Folkmore doesn't appear to have lessened Mizu's desire for revenge in any meaningful way. Perhaps it is delaying it a bit in terms of direct action, but that delay does not mean much to Mizu. He's eager, but he's willing to demonstrate some patience and take advantage of the time he has here to study, learn, and train. Vergil wonders if the same would be true if he hadn't come here, but he doesn't think so. If there was a genuine barrier to Mizu pursuing his quarry, he'd seek the path forward while maintaining his skills. Obstacles could never likely dissuade something that seems to be so deeply embedded into the fabric of Mizu's being that it pulses through him with every beating of his heart.
"You would be boring if otherwise were true." It would be too stagnant in fighting Mizu again and again if there weren't signs of improvement each time, if Mizu didn't push him in his own way. "I can assure you that it's not a reflection of your skills or strength, so I don't mean it as an insult, but it's actually more difficult for me to hold back than anything else when we fight. Outside of fights and sparring as a child with Dante, every fight for me has been to the death."
He hums in light amusement as he looks away from Mizu again. In the grand scheme of his life, most were no contest. He dispatched his foes quickly and easily, usually with a single strike of Yamato. A few, however, Vergil's life was on the line, too, not just his opponent's life. There was no room for mistakes or easing up at any point during those battles, and Vergil had to use every ounce of his strength and power to see them through to the end.
"You're not the same. Each time we've fought, you've grown even if it's just a little. It keeps it...interesting. I have to rely on more than just my power alone, and the more you improve, the more I must think." He looks back at Mizu again, considering the other man for a moment before he smiles faintly and looks back outside the balcony. "I suppose in a strange sense, I almost want to see you defeat me in battle someday. For a human to have worked so hard and honed his skills so much to accomplish something like that, I would think of that as something remarkable, not shameful."
Vergil still views it as an impossible feat. As he said, he's holding back a great deal in each fight with Mizu to avoid putting an end to their sparring too early or to bring about irrevocable harm to Mizu. Even as Mizu grows and Vergil happens to find himself needing to access more of his power to maintain his victory over the other swordsman, there is still a great wealth of it not yet tapped into. It's unlikely Mizu will ever go that far as a human to result in Vergil approaching their sparring with his all. But he would not rob Mizu of the accomplishment if it were to happen. Bruised as Vergil's ego would be in the moment for losing, another part of him wouldn't see it as a shameful defeat and would be able to recognize all that Mizu would have had to do to get to that point.
"That being said, if your plan next time is more explosives, I would advise you to reconsider." He glances at Mizu out of the corner of his eye. "You reveal things as well each time we fight, Mizu, and you would do well to remember that."
He's mostly teasing, but there's also an undercurrent to which he is being sincere, too. Mizu won't be able to pull something like the stunt he pulled today again. Vergil will be prepared for it next time.
"I did not have anyone to spar with growing up, so most of my fights have been to the death," Mizu says. It's something that they have in common. "I chose to use a bokken when I fought my way through the Shindo Dojo because I needed information from its master. The students were only between me and my goal by happenstance, not by choice to serve one of my fathers." A pause. "Plus, the master would have been less inclined to give me the information I needed if I slaughtered all of his students. Better to injure and maim."
No doubt some of those men would have been fine killing her, but they were not threats. Taigen was her most worthy opponent, and still she won. There have been similar circumstances when she's chosen not to kill. The hunt for information and the hunt for her fathers are not the same. A reputation as such a killer would impede her, not help her. Mizu is not the Four Fangs. She has no desire to be.
Vergil is much harder to kill than most men, so Mizu hasn't had to hold back the way she knows he is. After all, he could have been in that warmer form with thus far impenetrable scales the whole time. Instead, he usually works to avoid, block, or parry her attacks. When she manages to injure him, he heals quickly, so it doesn't limit him for long in their fights. Except for the explosion today. Mizu had bet he could survive it, and she was right. That said, she can still see the evidence of what it cost him today. Today. Mizu believes Vergil will be better prepared for it in the future. She still smiles at his words. "You would be boring if otherwise were true," she repeats back at him. "I will not promise the presence or absence of explosives. Though I remember our promise not to kill each other. The last opponent I used an explosive on, I stuck it in his neck. I deemed that too likely to kill you if successfully carried out."
She's mostly teasing, but Mizu cannot forget those moments when she thought she was wrong and that she'd gone too far. When Vergil's double disappeared, and she was left alone in the street unsure whether he were alive or dead. It may be much rarer for her to need to hold back on her attacks, but as determined as she is, as ferociously as she fights, Mizu never forgets her aim is not to kill him. He is not her enemy.
"Don't worry. You'll get to see something that remarkable one day. I'll make sure of it."
No doubt some of those men would have been fine killing her, but they were not threats. Taigen was her most worthy opponent, and still she won. There have been similar circumstances when she's chosen not to kill. The hunt for information and the hunt for her fathers are not the same. A reputation as such a killer would impede her, not help her. Mizu is not the Four Fangs. She has no desire to be.
Vergil is much harder to kill than most men, so Mizu hasn't had to hold back the way she knows he is. After all, he could have been in that warmer form with thus far impenetrable scales the whole time. Instead, he usually works to avoid, block, or parry her attacks. When she manages to injure him, he heals quickly, so it doesn't limit him for long in their fights. Except for the explosion today. Mizu had bet he could survive it, and she was right. That said, she can still see the evidence of what it cost him today. Today. Mizu believes Vergil will be better prepared for it in the future. She still smiles at his words. "You would be boring if otherwise were true," she repeats back at him. "I will not promise the presence or absence of explosives. Though I remember our promise not to kill each other. The last opponent I used an explosive on, I stuck it in his neck. I deemed that too likely to kill you if successfully carried out."
She's mostly teasing, but Mizu cannot forget those moments when she thought she was wrong and that she'd gone too far. When Vergil's double disappeared, and she was left alone in the street unsure whether he were alive or dead. It may be much rarer for her to need to hold back on her attacks, but as determined as she is, as ferociously as she fights, Mizu never forgets her aim is not to kill him. He is not her enemy.
"Don't worry. You'll get to see something that remarkable one day. I'll make sure of it."
Even if they could have some form of appreciation for Mizu's restraint, most would probably be horrified at the notion that they just narrowly avoided having their heads blown from their necks because Mizu happened to have thought it through in the moment. Vergil holds no such horror. He's asked for Mizu to give it his all during their fights, only holding back from exerting a lethal force. Such considerations should cross Mizu's mind if he has any chance of forcing Vergil to genuinely yield. So, at the mention of it rather than looking at Mizu with disdain or anger over the matter, Vergil merely rolls his eyes.
Honestly, he thinks if Mizu's temperament were different, he'd likely prefer the company of Dante over Vergil if he has the mind for such stunts as that. Then again, Vergil is of his own temperament and he... Well, he minds his brother a lot, but he can't truthfully say he dislikes his brother's company. But Dante is not here. It is Vergil alone. So, Mizu doesn't really get his pick as it were.
"Time will tell one way or another," he says, agreeing as far as he's willing to possibly agree to the notion that Mizu will ever best him.
Vergil wouldn't say that he's sad or disappointed by the time Mizu eventually leaves. They fought well today and the conversation afterward didn't feel like such an uncertain mess afterward as some of their others had in the past. If anything it was...nice. Pleasant even when occasionally coupled with less pleasant memories and thoughts. Easier than expected.
He doesn't offer to walk Mizu to the train station, having felt he infringed upon the other swordsman's dignity enough by carrying him to the apartment in the first place. Thus, he only walks him to the door out of politeness rather than concern, but he does linger by his door for a few moments longer after the door is closed behind Mizu. The half-devil listens to Mizu's footfalls to be certain they remain steady in gait and pace, satisfied before Mizu can even leave his earshot. Vergil steps away then to attend to the dishes he'd neglected in favor of Mizu's company. As he walks from the front door to the kitchen, he glances into his training area. He remains fastidious and focused as always as he cleans the dishes and eventually changing out the sheets on his bed, but his mind drifts easily again and again to Mizu wielding Mirage Edge.
Honestly, he thinks if Mizu's temperament were different, he'd likely prefer the company of Dante over Vergil if he has the mind for such stunts as that. Then again, Vergil is of his own temperament and he... Well, he minds his brother a lot, but he can't truthfully say he dislikes his brother's company. But Dante is not here. It is Vergil alone. So, Mizu doesn't really get his pick as it were.
"Time will tell one way or another," he says, agreeing as far as he's willing to possibly agree to the notion that Mizu will ever best him.
Vergil wouldn't say that he's sad or disappointed by the time Mizu eventually leaves. They fought well today and the conversation afterward didn't feel like such an uncertain mess afterward as some of their others had in the past. If anything it was...nice. Pleasant even when occasionally coupled with less pleasant memories and thoughts. Easier than expected.
He doesn't offer to walk Mizu to the train station, having felt he infringed upon the other swordsman's dignity enough by carrying him to the apartment in the first place. Thus, he only walks him to the door out of politeness rather than concern, but he does linger by his door for a few moments longer after the door is closed behind Mizu. The half-devil listens to Mizu's footfalls to be certain they remain steady in gait and pace, satisfied before Mizu can even leave his earshot. Vergil steps away then to attend to the dishes he'd neglected in favor of Mizu's company. As he walks from the front door to the kitchen, he glances into his training area. He remains fastidious and focused as always as he cleans the dishes and eventually changing out the sheets on his bed, but his mind drifts easily again and again to Mizu wielding Mirage Edge.
Mizu doesn't mean to wind up in the desert at all, much less with Vergil. The cold is the better environment for her, so the idea, when she'd seen him on the train, had been to head into Exile. It was the next stop, and she didn't want to be so rude to other passengers as to spar on the train itself. However, the environment seems to have other ideas. Cruel Summer in the summer it is. Thankfully, it leads to a series of abandoned buildings not too slowly. Mizu steps inside one and holds the door open for Vergil. If it's some kind of trial to separate them, it won't work.
"This'll do," Mizu says plainly. It will be the first time they spar with her new sword. She's ready to go and takes up a decent position, sword not yet drawn. Her attention goes to behind Vergil, and in a quick motion, she draws her sword, still sheathed, and accelerates past him to slam it into a ghost aiming for his back with unfriendly intentions, if she had to guess. Possibly, it aimed for her, and Vergil was only in the way. Mizu isn't sure.
What's for certain is that it draws the attention of other ghosts. Mizu groans, annoyed. "Get your own sparring partners."
"This'll do," Mizu says plainly. It will be the first time they spar with her new sword. She's ready to go and takes up a decent position, sword not yet drawn. Her attention goes to behind Vergil, and in a quick motion, she draws her sword, still sheathed, and accelerates past him to slam it into a ghost aiming for his back with unfriendly intentions, if she had to guess. Possibly, it aimed for her, and Vergil was only in the way. Mizu isn't sure.
What's for certain is that it draws the attention of other ghosts. Mizu groans, annoyed. "Get your own sparring partners."
Vergil had not yet even manifested Mirage Edge when Mizu launches himself forward to deal with the unfriendly specter at his back. Vergil's temperament aside, he's able to remain calm and still when Mizu makes his approach because he can see quickly that he is not the other swordsman's target. Mizu's eyes are trained elsewhere, not on the devil before him. He watches Mizu as he drifts past Vergil to strike the ghost instead, only summoning Mirage Edge when it would appear they've garnered more attention than just the individual ghost.
"From the looks of it, you could use the warm-up." He's teasing, of course. If they can't cross blades just yet, they may as well still have their banter if nothing else. Vergil scans among the ghosts to get a general count of how many seem prepared now to go on the offensive. It seems a few opt to flee rather than fight, but there are still plenty yet that appear to be gathering themselves up. Vergil positions himself just behind Mizu and looks over his shoulder at him. "Still, let us dispense of this trash quickly so that we might move onto more important matters."
"From the looks of it, you could use the warm-up." He's teasing, of course. If they can't cross blades just yet, they may as well still have their banter if nothing else. Vergil scans among the ghosts to get a general count of how many seem prepared now to go on the offensive. It seems a few opt to flee rather than fight, but there are still plenty yet that appear to be gathering themselves up. Vergil positions himself just behind Mizu and looks over his shoulder at him. "Still, let us dispense of this trash quickly so that we might move onto more important matters."
"They aren't worthy of my blade," Mizu declares. Indeed, that's the reason she uses her weapon sheathed. It takes far more than a shade for her to draw it. These spirits don't have the same type of corporeal form. The sheath works as well as the blade as the sharpness doesn't matter. Mizu wants to save the real deal for Vergil, someone who has proven himself worthy of it.
She nods, turning her head slightly toward Vergil. "Agreed."
The room is cool and dark, with light only filtering through a few slats. Mizu isn't immediately certain what sort of place this building used to be. It's appears old enough not to belong to the living. Like they're the trespassers. Mizu dispatches her ghosts in rapid succession and winds up by theβ
place where the door had been. It's become a solid wall. "Oh, they want us to stay. They like us a bit too much."
She nods, turning her head slightly toward Vergil. "Agreed."
The room is cool and dark, with light only filtering through a few slats. Mizu isn't immediately certain what sort of place this building used to be. It's appears old enough not to belong to the living. Like they're the trespassers. Mizu dispatches her ghosts in rapid succession and winds up by theβ
place where the door had been. It's become a solid wall. "Oh, they want us to stay. They like us a bit too much."
Mizu is quite obviously clear that Vergil holds himself back significantly when they spar. The dream wherein he fought Dante with everything that he had despite his exhaustion and injuries was likely illuminating enough to that fact. But he certainly sees no reason to toy with the ghosts that mean them harm. Vergil is precise with every stroke of his blade. What he does not catch with Mirage Edge, the summoned blades are quick to pin the ghosts to wherever it is they mean to stand.
"They'll come to regret that."
Although, Vergil cannot help but notice there doesn't seem to be any signs of an end to these ghosts. Their forms dissipate and seemingly wisp away when delivered what would likely constitute a mortal blow were they still alive, but either there's a significant number of spirits here or they just need a few moments to return for more. The answer perhaps doesn't matter entirely too much in the grand scheme of things when it seems the ghosts are not to be discouraged. The bottom line is they cannot fight these ghosts ad infinitum. Mizu will tire first and Vergil will do the same eventually. So, Vergil reverses his grip as he draws Mirage Edge behind him, lowering his stance as he pours his infernal energy into Mirage Edge. His aim is to take a few of the ghosts out, of course, but he also seeks to simply cut their way out of the building if that's what it will take. It seems unlikely to work if Thirteen has had her hand in any of this, but it merits experimenting nonetheless.
Of all the times to not have Yamato...
But he can't dwell on it and he must work with what they have at hand. Once Mirage Edge has crackled into enough life and before the ghosts can close in on him, Vergil swings the blade and releases the energy in the same formation that had once shredded Mizu's side towards the nearest wall.
"They'll come to regret that."
Although, Vergil cannot help but notice there doesn't seem to be any signs of an end to these ghosts. Their forms dissipate and seemingly wisp away when delivered what would likely constitute a mortal blow were they still alive, but either there's a significant number of spirits here or they just need a few moments to return for more. The answer perhaps doesn't matter entirely too much in the grand scheme of things when it seems the ghosts are not to be discouraged. The bottom line is they cannot fight these ghosts ad infinitum. Mizu will tire first and Vergil will do the same eventually. So, Vergil reverses his grip as he draws Mirage Edge behind him, lowering his stance as he pours his infernal energy into Mirage Edge. His aim is to take a few of the ghosts out, of course, but he also seeks to simply cut their way out of the building if that's what it will take. It seems unlikely to work if Thirteen has had her hand in any of this, but it merits experimenting nonetheless.
Of all the times to not have Yamato...
But he can't dwell on it and he must work with what they have at hand. Once Mirage Edge has crackled into enough life and before the ghosts can close in on him, Vergil swings the blade and releases the energy in the same formation that had once shredded Mizu's side towards the nearest wall.
Her experience with fighting spirits was nonexistent before coming to Folkmore, but Mizu's gained some since. In all her reading on London, she's spared a little about spirits themselves. Her sword and its sheath are steel. Mirage Edge a combination of steel and Vergil's power. If those were enough, she wouldn't see some of the spirits return so quickly. Her reading, combined with the knowledge Thirteen's trials usually provide the means, lead her to look around the room as well.
What feels like half the room explodes with Vergil's power, channeled through Mirage Edge. Her side nearly winces in sympathetic injury. It clears a path to another room, however, so Mizu follows in the wake of the incredible damage it caused into the next room. That's clearly what Vergil intendedβone step to getting out of this place and away from the ghosts. One step back toward what matters more.
Thanks to the explosion, the next room is messy, large splinters going into everything. It's another business of some kind, with a long counter along one wall and a selection of glass jars in the wall behind it. Perhaps an herbalist? It doesn't matter. What's important but is that it has a hearth. The fire is long out, the ashes cold and gray. Beside them, however, is an iron poker. Mizu grabs it, adjusts her grip, and slashes out at the nearest ghosts that trailed after her with reaching arms. The iron goes right through them, and they disappear in a wail.
"There's a door at the back," Mizu points out, "if you feel like using those." A grin.
What feels like half the room explodes with Vergil's power, channeled through Mirage Edge. Her side nearly winces in sympathetic injury. It clears a path to another room, however, so Mizu follows in the wake of the incredible damage it caused into the next room. That's clearly what Vergil intendedβone step to getting out of this place and away from the ghosts. One step back toward what matters more.
Thanks to the explosion, the next room is messy, large splinters going into everything. It's another business of some kind, with a long counter along one wall and a selection of glass jars in the wall behind it. Perhaps an herbalist? It doesn't matter. What's important but is that it has a hearth. The fire is long out, the ashes cold and gray. Beside them, however, is an iron poker. Mizu grabs it, adjusts her grip, and slashes out at the nearest ghosts that trailed after her with reaching arms. The iron goes right through them, and they disappear in a wail.
"There's a door at the back," Mizu points out, "if you feel like using those." A grin.
Vergil waits until Mizu is over the threshold of the next room before he darts in after him faster than Mizu can likely see easily. The mess Vergil creates lingers all over the floor and old furniture that's seen better days, but the path he cut through to the next room is gone in an instant. He narrows his eyes, placing a hand against the wall to find it just as sturdy as it likely had been before Mirage Edge had its way with it. So, they're trapped in a series of rooms filled seemingly to the brim with specters that mean them varying degrees of harm with the only way to go seemingly being forward.
If this is one of Thirteen's trials, Vergil finds it immediately tedious. Then again, that judgment could be easily clouded by the fact he was promised a different fight than this one that anything less is going to leave him unsatisfied.
"Very funny," he says, wrinkling his nose as he whirls Mirage Edge around, stabbing behind himself as one of the ghosts phase through the wall after them. He frees Mirage Edge from the wall, not bothering to see if it repairs itself once more and nods for Mizu to lead the way then. He spares a glance at Mizu's newfound weapon. "Iron is it?"
If this is one of Thirteen's trials, Vergil finds it immediately tedious. Then again, that judgment could be easily clouded by the fact he was promised a different fight than this one that anything less is going to leave him unsatisfied.
"Very funny," he says, wrinkling his nose as he whirls Mirage Edge around, stabbing behind himself as one of the ghosts phase through the wall after them. He frees Mirage Edge from the wall, not bothering to see if it repairs itself once more and nods for Mizu to lead the way then. He spares a glance at Mizu's newfound weapon. "Iron is it?"
It feels better using another weapon besides her sword. These spirits seem riled up about something, either because they brought steel weapons with them or something unrelated at her best guess, but like a bokken the iron poker lets her use another weapon. The poker may even be more effective.
"Not a solid set of tongs, but it'll do for spirits," Mizu says. She opens the door, which swings as is common in Folkmore instead of slides, and bows to motion Vergil through. Nothing so far has been a great danger to them, only serious in that they cannot ignore it. Much as Mizu wishes to spar Vergil, she's choosing to have a good time of it. A good violent time. Someone else can solve the spirits' woes if that's what's needed.
"How little of your abilities do you think you need to face our current situation?" Mizu asks conversationally.
"Not a solid set of tongs, but it'll do for spirits," Mizu says. She opens the door, which swings as is common in Folkmore instead of slides, and bows to motion Vergil through. Nothing so far has been a great danger to them, only serious in that they cannot ignore it. Much as Mizu wishes to spar Vergil, she's choosing to have a good time of it. A good violent time. Someone else can solve the spirits' woes if that's what's needed.
"How little of your abilities do you think you need to face our current situation?" Mizu asks conversationally.
( On this particular day in late October when Vergil decides to retire to his room for whatever reason, he will find a stack of books β four of them to be precise β resting neatly at the foot of his bed above the sheets. The titles he will find in the stack upon closer inspection will be two by poet William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell and Songs of Innocence, as well as two by poet John Milton, Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. There's no card or note to indicate where or who they came from. Perhaps a gift from the book fairy of Folkmore? Who's to say. They're just there. On his bed. Waiting to be discovered and loved. )
[It's an incredibly short list of possible suspects for the books that have seemingly magically manifested upon his bed one night. By which it is meant there is really only one feasible suspect of the three people who would even consider gifting Vergil anything in all of Folkmore. Two out of those three only know that Vergil has a fondness for literature, but could not likely narrow it further. Well, perhaps that is a touch unfair. They could go potentially go so far as to correctly answer that Vergil prefers poetry to prose most of the time, but these books are far, far too specific of choices to have been the degree of coincidence that it would take for Nero or Mizu to have gotten them. And Vergil does still, after all, remember his childhood bedroom and its bookshelf. He could always tell in an instant when something was missing from it even when there wasn't an obvious gap or books leaning when they had once been upright and orderly.]
[And he always knew the culprit back then, too.]
[For that night, he leaves them on his nightstand, staring at them in the dark, his gaze tracing the lettering on their spines until he can take it no longer. Vergil flips on the light on the nightstand and plucks the book at the top of the stack. When he wakes in the morning, his thumb lightly holds his place as the book rests on the pillow beside his face, the nightstand light still on.]
[Vergil lets it be entirely for a little while after the books' appearance, the books resting neatly on the overall barren bookshelf when not in use. (Vergil notices occasionally they're not quite as they were left behind, but... Who knows with all the commotion lately? Without many more books to support them, they could have easily been shifted a bit and one of the other two righted them upon seeing them.) He waits for some kind of comment to come though in letting it be. After all, it had been Dante who seemed puzzled by the idea that Vergil wouldn't keep all that many books of his own, and that Vergil was overall generally opposed to the idea. Surely there was some sort of smug I told you so looming on the horizon. There didn't seem to a possibility for Dante to have such restraint. Not when Vergil so clearly liked the gift.]
[But the days stretch on without a single comment, and Vergil never exactly finds a way to work it into a conversation.]
[He looks up from Paradise Lost when he hears the front door to the apartment open. He's curled up on the couchβthe pull-out tucked away when not in usedβwith a mug of tea in one hand resting on the arm, his knees drawn up and propping the book up. Vergil has to admit the couch has been a decent investment thus far compared to reading at the table.]
You're home early. [His feet find the floor once more as he closes the book. It is starting to get a bit later in the day and Vergil should probably start seeing to dinner since it's his turn to cook. Pausing a moment as Dante closes the door behind him, he asks,] Nero isn't with you?
[And he always knew the culprit back then, too.]
[For that night, he leaves them on his nightstand, staring at them in the dark, his gaze tracing the lettering on their spines until he can take it no longer. Vergil flips on the light on the nightstand and plucks the book at the top of the stack. When he wakes in the morning, his thumb lightly holds his place as the book rests on the pillow beside his face, the nightstand light still on.]
[Vergil lets it be entirely for a little while after the books' appearance, the books resting neatly on the overall barren bookshelf when not in use. (Vergil notices occasionally they're not quite as they were left behind, but... Who knows with all the commotion lately? Without many more books to support them, they could have easily been shifted a bit and one of the other two righted them upon seeing them.) He waits for some kind of comment to come though in letting it be. After all, it had been Dante who seemed puzzled by the idea that Vergil wouldn't keep all that many books of his own, and that Vergil was overall generally opposed to the idea. Surely there was some sort of smug I told you so looming on the horizon. There didn't seem to a possibility for Dante to have such restraint. Not when Vergil so clearly liked the gift.]
[But the days stretch on without a single comment, and Vergil never exactly finds a way to work it into a conversation.]
[He looks up from Paradise Lost when he hears the front door to the apartment open. He's curled up on the couchβthe pull-out tucked away when not in usedβwith a mug of tea in one hand resting on the arm, his knees drawn up and propping the book up. Vergil has to admit the couch has been a decent investment thus far compared to reading at the table.]
You're home early. [His feet find the floor once more as he closes the book. It is starting to get a bit later in the day and Vergil should probably start seeing to dinner since it's his turn to cook. Pausing a moment as Dante closes the door behind him, he asks,] Nero isn't with you?
( Strolling his way on in, he's whistling away to himself with a freshly purchased bottle of something alcoholic in hand when he catches sight of his brother there on the couch looking like the bookworm he remembers him being in their childhood. Closing the door behind him, he stops when the question of Nero is posed and turns around. Opens the door back up. Pokes his head outside. Then shuts it again, looking over to Vergil there. )
Nope. Doesn't look like it.
( Cheesy little grin on his lips to show he's giving Vergil a bit of shit for that question, he goes back to his whistling as he makes his way over to where he has his very small stash of things he's gotten for himself here in Epiphany thus far. It's mostly a few stacked food boxes β empty thankfully β as well as a couple nearly finished bottles of something alcoholic. Then there's his outfit he'd worn when taking down a punk by the name of Argosax slung over whatever there; Ebony and Ivory always with him in their holsters. But he goes over to add the new bottle with the others. Cool.
Turning on his heel, he oh-so-dramatically drops himself down onto the couch there with Vergil, lounging his way across it and leaning there on his arm as he tilts his head, looking up to Vergil in doing so. )
Doing some light reading there?
( He's being funny because he damn well knows that particular book is not, by any means, light reading. )
Nope. Doesn't look like it.
( Cheesy little grin on his lips to show he's giving Vergil a bit of shit for that question, he goes back to his whistling as he makes his way over to where he has his very small stash of things he's gotten for himself here in Epiphany thus far. It's mostly a few stacked food boxes β empty thankfully β as well as a couple nearly finished bottles of something alcoholic. Then there's his outfit he'd worn when taking down a punk by the name of Argosax slung over whatever there; Ebony and Ivory always with him in their holsters. But he goes over to add the new bottle with the others. Cool.
Turning on his heel, he oh-so-dramatically drops himself down onto the couch there with Vergil, lounging his way across it and leaning there on his arm as he tilts his head, looking up to Vergil in doing so. )
Doing some light reading there?
( He's being funny because he damn well knows that particular book is not, by any means, light reading. )
[Vergil says nothing to Dante's antics of feigning looking out the door for Nero, but his facial expression likely speaks volumes as he fixes his brother with a flat, unimpressed look. Very funny he says without words as the look follows Dante making his way over to the couch and setting his bottle down with the rest of his belongings.]
[If one could call them as much. To Vergil, it was beginning to look like the younger son of Sparda was beginning a small trashpile in the apartment. It was nothing unsanitary and it was contained, which meant that Vergil held his tongue on the matter for now in an effort to maintain peace between his brother and him, but it was notable that its contents were largely nothing particularly permanent in nature. Vergil's gaze moves from the pile to Dante when he asks his question, rolling his eyes. Ah, so here it comes. The I told you so. It's only a matter of time.]
I thought I would take advantage of the quiet while you and Nero content yourselves with your work, [he says with a slight nod in the direction of the balcony to refer to the mess outside. Unlike his brother and nephew, Vergil has not lifted a finger to assist with the clean-up and rebuilding. His attention and focus has been more centralized to the apartment. His gaze goes back to Dante's pile, and he perhaps delays Dante's I told you so for a brief moment longer.] There's an entire kitchen in this apartment you know. That's typically where people who reside somewhere tend to store food and beverages, or so I'm told.
[Vergil pulls his feet back up onto the couch, drawing his knees up again as he looks at Dante. But not without a light shove to Dante's foot for encroaching on his temporarily claimed part of the couch. He does not, however, reopen the book and leaves it closed in his lap.]
[If one could call them as much. To Vergil, it was beginning to look like the younger son of Sparda was beginning a small trashpile in the apartment. It was nothing unsanitary and it was contained, which meant that Vergil held his tongue on the matter for now in an effort to maintain peace between his brother and him, but it was notable that its contents were largely nothing particularly permanent in nature. Vergil's gaze moves from the pile to Dante when he asks his question, rolling his eyes. Ah, so here it comes. The I told you so. It's only a matter of time.]
I thought I would take advantage of the quiet while you and Nero content yourselves with your work, [he says with a slight nod in the direction of the balcony to refer to the mess outside. Unlike his brother and nephew, Vergil has not lifted a finger to assist with the clean-up and rebuilding. His attention and focus has been more centralized to the apartment. His gaze goes back to Dante's pile, and he perhaps delays Dante's I told you so for a brief moment longer.] There's an entire kitchen in this apartment you know. That's typically where people who reside somewhere tend to store food and beverages, or so I'm told.
[Vergil pulls his feet back up onto the couch, drawing his knees up again as he looks at Dante. But not without a light shove to Dante's foot for encroaching on his temporarily claimed part of the couch. He does not, however, reopen the book and leaves it closed in his lap.]
( The shove to his foot only gets him to flop on the couch even more dramatically, chin in palm, elbow on the couch as he smiles up to his brother what with his leaning across and all. He wears that smile in silence as he stares to Vergil... then plucks the book from his brother's lap with a playful little yoink!
Pulling back to sit upright, he cracks it open. )
What're you reading anyways?
( Flipping through the pages, he stops on a random one and scans the page with a curious hum on his lips as he does. He's familiar with it β has a copy of this exact same edition stored back at the shop along with all the others by this author. Not for his own personal reading, but, much like the photograph of Eva on his desk, to have as a reminder of days long gone. Of someone he loves long gone.
Holding the book back from himself, he squints at it before he starts reading aloud. )
Let's see... once upon a time, there was a great devil hunter named Dante. ( He grins over to Vergil then continues. ) The most handsome in all the land and strongest of devil hunters. Wow, this guy sounds pretty cool.
Pulling back to sit upright, he cracks it open. )
What're you reading anyways?
( Flipping through the pages, he stops on a random one and scans the page with a curious hum on his lips as he does. He's familiar with it β has a copy of this exact same edition stored back at the shop along with all the others by this author. Not for his own personal reading, but, much like the photograph of Eva on his desk, to have as a reminder of days long gone. Of someone he loves long gone.
Holding the book back from himself, he squints at it before he starts reading aloud. )
Let's see... once upon a time, there was a great devil hunter named Dante. ( He grins over to Vergil then continues. ) The most handsome in all the land and strongest of devil hunters. Wow, this guy sounds pretty cool.
Edited 2024-11-02 19:49 (UTC)
[There's an attempt to snatch the book back before Dante can make off with it in the short distance between them. But having to make the attempt with one hand and trying to spill his tea alongside Dante's element of surprise leaves Vergil at a disadvantage and Paradise Lost now in Dante's hands. Were they younger, Vergil would have likely already been on top of Dante trying to get a hand on the book again and wrench it free from his little brother's grubby hands. Meanwhile, Dante would be squirming every which way and expertly avoiding Vergil's every attempt as he made up what was in the book or, worse yet, attempted to choppily read from it, interrupted from reading more cleanly by needing to jerk one way or another to avoid Vergil. And then at some point, red in the face either from anger or embarrassment or perhaps a combination thereof, Vergil would hit his limit and simply strike his brother to shut him up.]
[It does not quite play out like that now. Vergil frowns, his gaze like that of a hawk on Dante's handling of the book, but he does not lunge for the it any further and settles back into his part of the couch. Without his book in his lap, Vergil's mug of tea takes its place held within both his hands. He frowns further at that stupid lopsided grin sent his way, rolling his eyes in perhaps a bit of an exaggerated manner at Dante's absurd claims.]
You clearly haven't read far enough yet if you think that. I believe there's something about him also being the most irritating little brother to have ever walked the earth, and absurdly thinks he can convince anyone he knows how to read.
[For all that Vergil appears to be insulting Dante at present, there's no actual bite or venom to his words. Annoyed though he may be that Dante's snatched his book away instead of just asking for it, Vergil's mood is not made immediately foul by the move. He can roll with Dante's antics a little every now and again even if he'd never care to admit it.]
[It does not quite play out like that now. Vergil frowns, his gaze like that of a hawk on Dante's handling of the book, but he does not lunge for the it any further and settles back into his part of the couch. Without his book in his lap, Vergil's mug of tea takes its place held within both his hands. He frowns further at that stupid lopsided grin sent his way, rolling his eyes in perhaps a bit of an exaggerated manner at Dante's absurd claims.]
You clearly haven't read far enough yet if you think that. I believe there's something about him also being the most irritating little brother to have ever walked the earth, and absurdly thinks he can convince anyone he knows how to read.
[For all that Vergil appears to be insulting Dante at present, there's no actual bite or venom to his words. Annoyed though he may be that Dante's snatched his book away instead of just asking for it, Vergil's mood is not made immediately foul by the move. He can roll with Dante's antics a little every now and again even if he'd never care to admit it.]
( There's a low rumbling of a chuckle deep in the back of his throat at that, flipping idly through more of the pages more because he can than actually meaning to find a particular page of interest. Snapping the book closed rather loudly between his hands, he waves it around then as he smiles over to his brother. )
Maybe it's because unlike some people I actually read interesting things and not high art in text form.
( Like his gun magazines and... other particular reading material that has pictures of mostly women in it, but hey. Those articles, man. Those articles. But hey, Vergil's reading it. Just like he knew he would and he's glad to see his brother take the time to enjoy the things he used to again. That alone makes this worth the Lore purchase.
Book in hand, he gently bops it off the top of his brother's head before he sets it down and swings himself over the back of the couch, red coat fluttering after him as he does, making his way over to the kitchen area with another whistle on his lips. )
I'm hungry. Anything good around here to eat?
Maybe it's because unlike some people I actually read interesting things and not high art in text form.
( Like his gun magazines and... other particular reading material that has pictures of mostly women in it, but hey. Those articles, man. Those articles. But hey, Vergil's reading it. Just like he knew he would and he's glad to see his brother take the time to enjoy the things he used to again. That alone makes this worth the Lore purchase.
Book in hand, he gently bops it off the top of his brother's head before he sets it down and swings himself over the back of the couch, red coat fluttering after him as he does, making his way over to the kitchen area with another whistle on his lips. )
I'm hungry. Anything good around here to eat?
Edited 2024-11-02 20:27 (UTC)
[Vergil reflexively blinks when the book comes down on the top of his head. It does not actually hurt in the slightest, but he still make a point to lightly rub at his crown.]
I just went to the hospitality station a few days ago for more food, [he says, picking the book up from where Dante left it. He holds it a little closer to himself, more protectively to avoid any other potential yoinking away from him even if it's unlikely Dante will bother with it.] Unless Nero has already helped himself and ate them all, there should be more of those potato crisps you two seem to like in the snack cabinet. There are also more strawberries in the fridge, and more of those frozen...quesadillas you can microwave.
[His hesitation in calling them quesadillas isn't uncertainty about their name, but he doesn't think ready-to-eat, microwaveable food like that should ever be called what they're purportedly meant to be. He's no expert, but he is still certain he could do better. Perhaps he ought to look into it, he thinks, drumming his fingers against the back cover of his book. He could make them to a similar, smaller size, and freeze them, and Nero and Dante could microwave them anytime they wanted... They would hopefully taste better, but at the very least, they would not have that strange...cardboard texture that bothers Vergil but doesn't seem to bother either of his relatives.]
[He shakes himself from his thoughts to provide the rest of the answer to Dante's question.]
If you're looking for something more substantial, I can start dinner, or you can help yourself to leftovers or a sandwich. Or if a sandwich is too much work, cereal is an option.
I just went to the hospitality station a few days ago for more food, [he says, picking the book up from where Dante left it. He holds it a little closer to himself, more protectively to avoid any other potential yoinking away from him even if it's unlikely Dante will bother with it.] Unless Nero has already helped himself and ate them all, there should be more of those potato crisps you two seem to like in the snack cabinet. There are also more strawberries in the fridge, and more of those frozen...quesadillas you can microwave.
[His hesitation in calling them quesadillas isn't uncertainty about their name, but he doesn't think ready-to-eat, microwaveable food like that should ever be called what they're purportedly meant to be. He's no expert, but he is still certain he could do better. Perhaps he ought to look into it, he thinks, drumming his fingers against the back cover of his book. He could make them to a similar, smaller size, and freeze them, and Nero and Dante could microwave them anytime they wanted... They would hopefully taste better, but at the very least, they would not have that strange...cardboard texture that bothers Vergil but doesn't seem to bother either of his relatives.]
[He shakes himself from his thoughts to provide the rest of the answer to Dante's question.]
If you're looking for something more substantial, I can start dinner, or you can help yourself to leftovers or a sandwich. Or if a sandwich is too much work, cereal is an option.
( He's listening to Vergil ramble on about the various options he has while he stands there in front of the fridge... and starts to dance to a tune playing inside his head, head bobbing along as he does. Fridge door swinging open, he still vibes to whatever tune he's got going in his head, fingers drumming along the top of the door as he scans the contents of the fridge and that's when he finds them. )
Jackpot.
( Laugh soft on his lips, he pulls out the strawberries and pops one right away into his mouth as he takes the whole basket/bowl with him back for the couch, head bobbing still.
Strawberry between his teeth, he smiles around it to his brother and drops himself right back down on the couch there beside him, setting the strawberries there in his lap as he starts going at them one at a time, savoring each and every one.
A turn of his head to his brother, he holds a strawberry out for him. )
Want one? I'll share.
Jackpot.
( Laugh soft on his lips, he pulls out the strawberries and pops one right away into his mouth as he takes the whole basket/bowl with him back for the couch, head bobbing still.
Strawberry between his teeth, he smiles around it to his brother and drops himself right back down on the couch there beside him, setting the strawberries there in his lap as he starts going at them one at a time, savoring each and every one.
A turn of his head to his brother, he holds a strawberry out for him. )
Want one? I'll share.
[With the way Dante brings the whole bowl of strawberries rather than just a handful over to the couch, Vergil thinks perhaps he should have taken more seeing as how those might not last particularly long. While Dante begins indulging in his snack, Vergil sinks a little more back into the couch the way he was before Dante returned home and opens his book back up to where he left off. At the offer, Vergil lifts his gaze from the page to the strawberry and shakes his head no.]
I got them for you to enjoy. [He looks back down at his book before having a sip of his tea.] I know a lot of time has passed and it's possible your tastes have changed, but I assumed they were still your favorite.
I got them for you to enjoy. [He looks back down at his book before having a sip of his tea.] I know a lot of time has passed and it's possible your tastes have changed, but I assumed they were still your favorite.
( A shrug, he pops the offered strawberry into his mouth, not about to waste the delicious little thing, especially when Vergil is right about them still being his favorite in the family of berries and fruits in general.
Swinging his leg closest to Vergil up, he drapes it over his brother's legs the best he can just because and keeps indulging in his strawberries there. It's not so strange of him to do, having done so many times when they were younger and Vergil was there reading one of his books. Always as a means to remind the other that he was right there lest he decided to forget for even just a minute or two. It comes with their being twins β so close to one another and really only having each other since long before birth. The fact he seems to fall back into it so easily without even questioning it... maybe he will later. When he's alone. Who's to say how his mood will shift when left by himself and his thoughts.
Never really being a fan of silence, he glances over to his brother there, another strawberry shoved in his mouth as he does. )
So. ( A beat, another strawberry popped in his mouth. ) Spending some nights away, huh? Bow chicka wow wow.
( And here comes the grin. )
Swinging his leg closest to Vergil up, he drapes it over his brother's legs the best he can just because and keeps indulging in his strawberries there. It's not so strange of him to do, having done so many times when they were younger and Vergil was there reading one of his books. Always as a means to remind the other that he was right there lest he decided to forget for even just a minute or two. It comes with their being twins β so close to one another and really only having each other since long before birth. The fact he seems to fall back into it so easily without even questioning it... maybe he will later. When he's alone. Who's to say how his mood will shift when left by himself and his thoughts.
Never really being a fan of silence, he glances over to his brother there, another strawberry shoved in his mouth as he does. )
So. ( A beat, another strawberry popped in his mouth. ) Spending some nights away, huh? Bow chicka wow wow.
( And here comes the grin. )
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