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I would hope that would be a consideration regardless, [Vergil says with a slightly raised eyebrow as he glances over at Dante. Even with as questionable as Vergil's judgment could likely be called when it comes to relationships with others, even he knows trust is a necessary piece of the foundation for anything to last.]
Yeah, but... ( Pushing away from the counter, he swings his arms at his side β slowly walks in a circle there in the kitchen. ) ...maybe it's more you don't trust yourself as much as you do them. You know?
[Vergil glances at Dante as he begins his slow circle, but otherwise remains focused on finishing up with the tomatoes.]
That rarely is a concern of mine. [It isn't a brag. He's far too matter-of-fact in the statement for it to be a reflection of Vergil's long-standing superiority complex over Dante. For all the ways in which Vergil has historically possessed blindspots when it comes to his decisions that could likely call into question the validity of his insight, he's never been one to doubt himself.] If I did not possess any trust in myself whatsoever, I would not have agreed to it.
That rarely is a concern of mine. [It isn't a brag. He's far too matter-of-fact in the statement for it to be a reflection of Vergil's long-standing superiority complex over Dante. For all the ways in which Vergil has historically possessed blindspots when it comes to his decisions that could likely call into question the validity of his insight, he's never been one to doubt himself.] If I did not possess any trust in myself whatsoever, I would not have agreed to it.
( That silence settles over him again and, for a moment, the youngest son of Sparda almost seems deflated. Not necessarily with what it is Vergil says, but. More about what it means for him. Not wanting to let himself settle there in that feeling though, he sighs as he approaches his brother. )
Well. Then I guess I wonβt agree to it.
( Clap of his hand on his brotherβs shoulder, he smiles softly while giving a nod. )
Thanks, bro. Good talk.
Well. Then I guess I wonβt agree to it.
( Clap of his hand on his brotherβs shoulder, he smiles softly while giving a nod. )
Thanks, bro. Good talk.
[Vergil's eyebrows draw together in visible confusion as Dante thanks him and claps him on the shoulder, feeling distinctly like he's missed a step within this conversation somewhere along the way and having no reasonable idea for how to find it again. Especially not when Dante appears to be so neatly tying it up. He studies Dante's face for a moment as if there answer might manifest right there on his forehead, but it, of course, does not. Was Dante looking for advice this entire time? Vergil wasn't even aware that was...]
[He sighs, an impatient noise as he shakes his head in mild frustration. If there is one thing Vergil doesn't particularly like, it's feeling a step or two behind. But Dante isn't liable to do him any favors in helping him catch up. If anything, he'll only wind up more frustrated when Dante inevitably abandons this more serious tone for something else, something a little more familiar.]
[He slides the bowl of tomatoes a little further down the counter from where he has it placed.]
...If you're going to be over here, make yourself useful and crush these.
[He sighs, an impatient noise as he shakes his head in mild frustration. If there is one thing Vergil doesn't particularly like, it's feeling a step or two behind. But Dante isn't liable to do him any favors in helping him catch up. If anything, he'll only wind up more frustrated when Dante inevitably abandons this more serious tone for something else, something a little more familiar.]
[He slides the bowl of tomatoes a little further down the counter from where he has it placed.]
...If you're going to be over here, make yourself useful and crush these.
( Hand dropping away from his brotherβs shoulder, he stares to him for a long moment β catches the way brows knit and his expression shifts ever so gently. He recalls the moment back at Amrita Academy when his dear big brother had decided to make him privy to his whatever with Mizu and how he didnβt really need to tell him that, especially when it wasnβt the topic of conversation at the time. He really didnβt have to. But, he also knows his brother and some things are simply better left unsaid.
Dropping his gaze down in thought for a moment, he turns then to press his back against Vergilβs back and leans against him, dropping the yo-yo down. )
But you do it so much better than me.
( An almost typical response from a younger sibling looking to get himself out of work. )
Dropping his gaze down in thought for a moment, he turns then to press his back against Vergilβs back and leans against him, dropping the yo-yo down. )
But you do it so much better than me.
( An almost typical response from a younger sibling looking to get himself out of work. )
Edited 2024-12-12 14:25 (UTC)
[Vergil huffs an agitated sigh as Dante quite literally swerves out of the way of any potential work. He drags the bowl back over in front of himself instead of trying to hassle or physically corral Dante into doing the work. With his back pressed against Vergil's, Dante will know the exact moment Vergil's hand is in the bowl and crushing up the tomatoes and likely be able to envision the exact face he's making as there's a little shudder. The texture and temperature of the tomatoes in his hand is beyond unpleasant, but in all his research, it was said repeatedly that hand-crushed provides the best texture for the sauce.]
[...Dante and Nero just had better really like this sauce to make it worth it.]
[It's after a moment or two of silence between them that Vergil gently taps the back of their heads together.]
Have you thought of learning here?
[He knows the question is a loaded one. The last time Vergil brought it up was when they were still in Amrita, and it only led to an argument that left both brothers parting in anger. But he tries to ask it in a gentler manner than before. Less I told you so and superior older brother, and more... Well, concern isn't really the right word for it. But he's considering the degree of intimacy and trust involved with coupling the act with that form, and that would mean it's important. Especially if he's pushing through the inherent awkwardness of talking about it with his older brother first. So, it's more Vergil recognizes its importance and Dante's vulnerability in bringing any of this up in the first place, and he tries to be gentler in his approach this time.]
There are plenty of places in Folkmore where there's nothing around if you're concerned about collateral damage. The most you would hurt in some parts of Wintermute are trees, and Cruel Summer would only have the concern of beasts that are liable to attack you first regardless. [He glances over his shoulder.] I wouldn't let you do anything you'd regret later, Dante. I'd stop you before you lost control.
[...Dante and Nero just had better really like this sauce to make it worth it.]
[It's after a moment or two of silence between them that Vergil gently taps the back of their heads together.]
Have you thought of learning here?
[He knows the question is a loaded one. The last time Vergil brought it up was when they were still in Amrita, and it only led to an argument that left both brothers parting in anger. But he tries to ask it in a gentler manner than before. Less I told you so and superior older brother, and more... Well, concern isn't really the right word for it. But he's considering the degree of intimacy and trust involved with coupling the act with that form, and that would mean it's important. Especially if he's pushing through the inherent awkwardness of talking about it with his older brother first. So, it's more Vergil recognizes its importance and Dante's vulnerability in bringing any of this up in the first place, and he tries to be gentler in his approach this time.]
There are plenty of places in Folkmore where there's nothing around if you're concerned about collateral damage. The most you would hurt in some parts of Wintermute are trees, and Cruel Summer would only have the concern of beasts that are liable to attack you first regardless. [He glances over his shoulder.] I wouldn't let you do anything you'd regret later, Dante. I'd stop you before you lost control.
( Part of him wonders what it might have been like... for the two of them to grow up side by side regardless of the circumstance. Be it at home with their mother still alive, or just the two of them after that traumatic day and they hadn't been separated from each other. What it would have been like for them to have each other to learn from and with when it came to their father's blood in their veins. Maybe he'd been a lot better at it β maybe he'd have tapped into it all much sooner with Vergil there at his side. Things he'll never know what with his having to have figure it all out on his own over the years. Things he still, to this day, finds he figures out here and there.
Back still pressed to his brother's, he drops the yo-yo down once again and lets it spin there for as long as he can, staring to it in silence. Somber. Snapping the yo-yo back up, he forces a smile and knocks his head back against his brother's playfully. )
You know who needs to learn some of that? Your kid.
( A truth and something he's noticed. )
He's sort of there. Can't really keep the control for very long, but I think he can do it. Just needs a little more practice and to not think so much about it. Also think his old man would be the best to learn from as far as all that goes. Real father-son bonding moment, don't you think? You're welcome for that idea.
( Chuckle soft, he rolls the yo-yo over between his palms. )
I'm good though. Like I said, was just a dumb thought.
Back still pressed to his brother's, he drops the yo-yo down once again and lets it spin there for as long as he can, staring to it in silence. Somber. Snapping the yo-yo back up, he forces a smile and knocks his head back against his brother's playfully. )
You know who needs to learn some of that? Your kid.
( A truth and something he's noticed. )
He's sort of there. Can't really keep the control for very long, but I think he can do it. Just needs a little more practice and to not think so much about it. Also think his old man would be the best to learn from as far as all that goes. Real father-son bonding moment, don't you think? You're welcome for that idea.
( Chuckle soft, he rolls the yo-yo over between his palms. )
I'm good though. Like I said, was just a dumb thought.
Edited 2024-12-12 19:35 (UTC)
[Vergil hums his light agreement as he continues crushing the tomatoes in the bowl, but he hesitates to say more right away. Dante's response at first doesn't feel like an actual answer considering the focus on Nero instead. But deflection from Dante is usually the first bit of warning to leave something alone, and by the time he finishes talking, he's said no. It's just a no that sits with a little less certainty for Vergil given the discussion of Nero and especially given the dismissal of it being unimportant in the end. Nothing about how Dante has been approaching this has felt like a dumb thought. He frowns down at the increasing mush that hasn't yet taken the form of a sauce in the bowl as though it is withholding the answer of whether or not to push the question.]
Well, if you change your mind...
[He waves vaguely with his free, non-tomato-y hand before returning it to keeping the bowl stable.]
[Vergil chooses to leave it alone in the end. Even if Dante is pretending it isn't all that important and attempts to use Nero as a distraction, the answer is still no to some degree or another.]
Well, if you change your mind...
[He waves vaguely with his free, non-tomato-y hand before returning it to keeping the bowl stable.]
[Vergil chooses to leave it alone in the end. Even if Dante is pretending it isn't all that important and attempts to use Nero as a distraction, the answer is still no to some degree or another.]
Edited 2024-12-12 23:30 (UTC)
[Left wrapped on Vergil's bed. Inside is a thick leather-bound book entitled, A Treasury of Romantic Poets. It contains a compilation of poems from the period, some of which Vergil no doubt knows and already owns, but the bookseller recommended this when Nero said he was shopping for someone who "like, really loves William Blake."
There's a good-sized envelope tucked in the pages, very deliberately on the page printed with Blake's "The Little Boy Found." Inside the envelope is a stack of photographs of Nero, at various ages from when he was a child.
One depicts a round-cheeked, serious-looking infant with shock white hair, standing up with assistance from a smiling nun holding his hands.
Another shows a class picture from the Order school. Among the students dressed in their little uniforms and smiling obediently, Nero is in the front row sticking his tongue out.
There's another formal photograph of Nero upon his induction to the Holy Knights. He's 13, dressed in the white formal uniform, standing proudly alongside a stern-looking bearded captain and other inductees, all of whom are visibly older than Nero.
In another he's a bit older, wearing a new non-standard uniform and a pair of headphones. It was taken clandestinely as he fell asleep in a church service, feet propped up on a pew and one arm in a sling.
He isn't serious or bored-looking in every picture, though. One shows Nero, around age 8, hanging upside down on a swingset. A little girl with auburn-red hair is swinging, and they're both laughing. Another from around the same time shows Nero at the beach, absolutely covered in mud and sand, grinning and rushing the photographer with messy hands.]
There's a good-sized envelope tucked in the pages, very deliberately on the page printed with Blake's "The Little Boy Found." Inside the envelope is a stack of photographs of Nero, at various ages from when he was a child.
One depicts a round-cheeked, serious-looking infant with shock white hair, standing up with assistance from a smiling nun holding his hands.
Another shows a class picture from the Order school. Among the students dressed in their little uniforms and smiling obediently, Nero is in the front row sticking his tongue out.
There's another formal photograph of Nero upon his induction to the Holy Knights. He's 13, dressed in the white formal uniform, standing proudly alongside a stern-looking bearded captain and other inductees, all of whom are visibly older than Nero.
In another he's a bit older, wearing a new non-standard uniform and a pair of headphones. It was taken clandestinely as he fell asleep in a church service, feet propped up on a pew and one arm in a sling.
He isn't serious or bored-looking in every picture, though. One shows Nero, around age 8, hanging upside down on a swingset. A little girl with auburn-red hair is swinging, and they're both laughing. Another from around the same time shows Nero at the beach, absolutely covered in mud and sand, grinning and rushing the photographer with messy hands.]
( On whatever day this may be, when Vergil enters his room for the evening, he'll find the Sparda family portrait leaning up against the wall, framed. There's no note, no wrapping done of it, and no bow tacked onto it. It's just there. Waiting for him. For whenever he may see it. )
[He should probably call it good for the day. Sweat trickles down his brow, his chest, the small of his back under his shirt. Bruises and abrasions throb on his elbows, his side, under the knees of his jeans from hitting the ground again and again. He imagines if Vergil knew he was getting that banged up, he'd want to call it, but Nero's not given a single indication that he's gotten hurt. Except for the way it's taking him a little longer to stumble back to his feet after each failed round. But he can chalk that up to being tired, which is obvious by the heavy breathing and clear exertion in his movements.
Mostly, he should call it because he can feel the last vestiges of his temper starting to fray with frustration. He can still hear Credo in the back of his head. Do not fight with such anger. You're clumsy. You're unfocused. But Nero absolutely cannot fathom letting it go. Not when he's put on such a poor performance and hardly landed a dozen real, substantial blows on his father in all their practicing. This is not going to be how he gives up for the day.
Besides, he can feel his power building again. His Devil Trigger is ready-- even if he's looking a little clumsy as he slings Red Queen over his shoulder and gets into stance again.]
Don't look at me like that. [However he's being looked at.] I can still fight.
Mostly, he should call it because he can feel the last vestiges of his temper starting to fray with frustration. He can still hear Credo in the back of his head. Do not fight with such anger. You're clumsy. You're unfocused. But Nero absolutely cannot fathom letting it go. Not when he's put on such a poor performance and hardly landed a dozen real, substantial blows on his father in all their practicing. This is not going to be how he gives up for the day.
Besides, he can feel his power building again. His Devil Trigger is ready-- even if he's looking a little clumsy as he slings Red Queen over his shoulder and gets into stance again.]
Don't look at me like that. [However he's being looked at.] I can still fight.
[By the time Nero intervened with Dante and Vergil atop the Qliphoth, both twins had exerted much of their energy into their own battle with one another. Vergil also was not interested in a true fight against his son, not one where there was the chance Nero could be significantly injured. Thus, Vergil irrefutably lost that fight against him that day. And while Vergil would not say that those factors somehow undermine that victory for Nero, he has begun to wonder if perhaps it has set unreasonable expectations.]
[Nero should be just as proud of what he's managed today as he is over his victory atop the Qliphoth. Perhaps even prouder. But Vergil senses that rather than taking pleasure in finding a way through Vergil's guard or correctly reading his movements to avoid a blow, Nero instead only buries himself in frustration when his next strike doesn't land or it ends up that it was a feint and he finds himself quickly facedown again.]
[Vergil sheathes Yamato as it strikes him just how much this is like looking into a mirror. Nero fixates on his perceived inadequacies to the detriment of everything else, and his temper only increasing as a consequence in frustration with himself because of what he believes he should be capable of versus his actual performance. Historically and even now, Vergil is much the same way albeit his frustrations these days do not stem from shortcomings he identifies in battle.]
This isn't a real fight, Nero. [In contrast to Nero, Vergil does not adopt a stance again. He stands there opposite his son, trying to convince him that this has been enough for today rather than encouraging him to push forward instead.] There is no need to push yourself to exhaustion today.
[He shakes his head slightly.]
You've done well, but it will defeat the purpose of this to press on any further.
[Nero should be just as proud of what he's managed today as he is over his victory atop the Qliphoth. Perhaps even prouder. But Vergil senses that rather than taking pleasure in finding a way through Vergil's guard or correctly reading his movements to avoid a blow, Nero instead only buries himself in frustration when his next strike doesn't land or it ends up that it was a feint and he finds himself quickly facedown again.]
[Vergil sheathes Yamato as it strikes him just how much this is like looking into a mirror. Nero fixates on his perceived inadequacies to the detriment of everything else, and his temper only increasing as a consequence in frustration with himself because of what he believes he should be capable of versus his actual performance. Historically and even now, Vergil is much the same way albeit his frustrations these days do not stem from shortcomings he identifies in battle.]
This isn't a real fight, Nero. [In contrast to Nero, Vergil does not adopt a stance again. He stands there opposite his son, trying to convince him that this has been enough for today rather than encouraging him to push forward instead.] There is no need to push yourself to exhaustion today.
[He shakes his head slightly.]
You've done well, but it will defeat the purpose of this to press on any further.
[Yeah, there it is. The rational thing to do would be to take him up on it and bow out. There are zero stakes to backing down, and refusing isn't really proving anything. Too bad every impulse inside him is screaming that he can't stop now. He's better than this. He's not going to look this pathetic in front of Vergil. If he can land just one more hit, then maybe he won't feel like such a futile little brat, flailing his sword while his father easily holds him at bay with a hand on his head.
Besides, he's already exhausted, so what's a little more?]
You giving up already? [The quip lands a bit hollow, given Nero looks like a gentle push could knock him over at this point.] I'm not done. I'm better than this.
[He revs Red Queen over his shoulder, lighting the engine with flames.]
Square up. Come on.
Besides, he's already exhausted, so what's a little more?]
You giving up already? [The quip lands a bit hollow, given Nero looks like a gentle push could knock him over at this point.] I'm not done. I'm better than this.
[He revs Red Queen over his shoulder, lighting the engine with flames.]
Square up. Come on.
[Vergil sighs quietly as Nero revs Red Queen back into life. He knows Nero is stubborn and rarely one to let something go, but this is certainly a more extreme demonstration of that trait than what he's used to seeing from him. Vergil has a choice to make: he can either indulge Nero or he can refuse. Indulging him would not end well, Vergil believes. Most likely, he will lose another round and only grow all the more frustrated and angry with his failures. Refusing him may result in Nero making the choice regardless of what Vergil says, or lend more to his growing temper.]
[No real option feels like the right one inherently, but Vergil still believes it to be better that Nero does not push himself now.]
Your form is becoming sloppier than it was when we began because you are beginning to overexert yourself. [Vergil is beginning to realize he perhaps should have put a stop to this a few rounds prior. Perhaps it would not be so difficult as it appears to be now.] There is no shame in recognizing a limit, Nero. Sloppy form grows to become habit to become muscle memory, and we both know what the outcomes are if you bring that into true battles.
[It becomes much harder to train that out of oneself than to accept the limit exists where it does.]
You will not do better today, but you will tomorrow if you exercise wisdom now and rest.
[No real option feels like the right one inherently, but Vergil still believes it to be better that Nero does not push himself now.]
Your form is becoming sloppier than it was when we began because you are beginning to overexert yourself. [Vergil is beginning to realize he perhaps should have put a stop to this a few rounds prior. Perhaps it would not be so difficult as it appears to be now.] There is no shame in recognizing a limit, Nero. Sloppy form grows to become habit to become muscle memory, and we both know what the outcomes are if you bring that into true battles.
[It becomes much harder to train that out of oneself than to accept the limit exists where it does.]
You will not do better today, but you will tomorrow if you exercise wisdom now and rest.
Demons aren't gonna quit because I look tired!
[He is tired. He is sloppy. Of course he can't top Vergil. Of course he's barely holding his own. He should just give up and quit before he embarrasses himself even worse. Before he gets this sloppy in every fight because of muscle memory, like his dad says. What if he sucked this much in every fight? If this is the best he can do maybe he just sucks in general? But seriously, there's nothing at stake here, except an outsized chunk of his pride that suggests there are, uh, some issues being tied up with what's supposed to be a basic spar. Who cares?
Nero does. A hell of a fucking lot.
His fingers shake on the grip of his sword as his wings appear, and a wave of demonic energy simmers around him, not quite firing yet but threatening to.]
I'm fucking better than this. I'll prove it.
[He is tired. He is sloppy. Of course he can't top Vergil. Of course he's barely holding his own. He should just give up and quit before he embarrasses himself even worse. Before he gets this sloppy in every fight because of muscle memory, like his dad says. What if he sucked this much in every fight? If this is the best he can do maybe he just sucks in general? But seriously, there's nothing at stake here, except an outsized chunk of his pride that suggests there are, uh, some issues being tied up with what's supposed to be a basic spar. Who cares?
Nero does. A hell of a fucking lot.
His fingers shake on the grip of his sword as his wings appear, and a wave of demonic energy simmers around him, not quite firing yet but threatening to.]
I'm fucking better than this. I'll prove it.
[Nero's temper flares all the more and with it his demonic energy, his wings manifesting in a burst. Vergil's brow furrows in response, but still he remains as he has been. Still and firm in his refusal to engage Nero any further in this. Especially now as he borders on the edge of an outright tantrum.]
Nero, enough.
[There is nothing to prove. There are no demons to be fought. He's gearing up to fight purely on emotion alone rather than thought or technique. It serves only to his detriment, and he has to realize that. There has to be some part of him that does.]
[But Vergil is through appealing to it. His tone is more warning than advisement at this point, which is why he says nothing further. Just those two words alone.]
Nero, enough.
[There is nothing to prove. There are no demons to be fought. He's gearing up to fight purely on emotion alone rather than thought or technique. It serves only to his detriment, and he has to realize that. There has to be some part of him that does.]
[But Vergil is through appealing to it. His tone is more warning than advisement at this point, which is why he says nothing further. Just those two words alone.]
[His eyes widen, then narrow again, and he bites back a growl. That tone very nearly tips him off. Something about it brings him right back to the Qliphoth. When he demanded to be taken seriously, was met with--what he read as-- patronizing skepticism, and proceeded to kick Vergil's ass for it. That all feels a million years away now. Even though the stakes here are non-existent, it doesn't feel that way as he finds himself drowning in disgust and disappointment with himself.
He teeters forward, then back again. Then further back as the futility sinks in. Finally, he swings Red Queen over his shoulder. The gout of flame that bursts from the engines makes it look much more dramatic when he slams it crookedly into the dirt and leaves it sticking there.]
Fuck!!
[He kicks the dirt almost as hard as he turns around, fists clenched, stomping furiously a few paces away as he tries to get a handle on his flaring temper.]
He teeters forward, then back again. Then further back as the futility sinks in. Finally, he swings Red Queen over his shoulder. The gout of flame that bursts from the engines makes it look much more dramatic when he slams it crookedly into the dirt and leaves it sticking there.]
Fuck!!
[He kicks the dirt almost as hard as he turns around, fists clenched, stomping furiously a few paces away as he tries to get a handle on his flaring temper.]
[What relief Vergil may feel that Nero finally appears to be backing down from continuing any further is sapped away by Nero's subsequent outburst. He's not disappointed by the display of anger, but rather concerned over it. While he does not know Nero's exact thoughts, he can take an educated guess at what they may be.]
[It's perhaps not particularly advisable to approach Nero right now. In fact, Vergil hesitates a moment before doing so, wondering if the best thing to do is interpret the steps away as his implicit request for space. But his concerns outweigh everything else, the ache he feels in his chest at seeing his child struggling in a way he had yet to witness until now leading him to walk past Red Queen in the dirt and through the additional paces. Vergil says his name again, much softer this time, before he reaches out to try and place a hand on his shoulder, attempting to pull him in for a tight embrace.]
[If he's rebuffed, so be it. Vergil thinks it far worse to just stand there passively observing Nero as he is now. He'll only try again one more time in that instance before giving up on it albeit remaining close by.]
[It's perhaps not particularly advisable to approach Nero right now. In fact, Vergil hesitates a moment before doing so, wondering if the best thing to do is interpret the steps away as his implicit request for space. But his concerns outweigh everything else, the ache he feels in his chest at seeing his child struggling in a way he had yet to witness until now leading him to walk past Red Queen in the dirt and through the additional paces. Vergil says his name again, much softer this time, before he reaches out to try and place a hand on his shoulder, attempting to pull him in for a tight embrace.]
[If he's rebuffed, so be it. Vergil thinks it far worse to just stand there passively observing Nero as he is now. He'll only try again one more time in that instance before giving up on it albeit remaining close by.]
[If there was a wall around, he'd punch it. Something to kick, he'd kick it. He's fuming and frustrated and for no real adequate reason he can put his finger on. You're acting like a fucking baby, he thinks, which is one more thing to be upset about. Add it to the pile. The worst thing about it is knowing that Vergil is watching him, probably bewildered at the very least-- if not actively disappointed. Check out his grown-ass son who can't hold his own, and can't handle his temper either.
There's movement at the corner of his eye, a hand on his shoulder, and he spins around defensively. Vergil moves in and out of sheer reflex he swats and stumbles back a step, and it's then with the second attempt that he realizes his father is trying to... hug him? This makes him freeze, torn between angry reflex and his implicit desire not to shun Vergil's clumsy attempts at affection.
So he ends up in Vergil's embrace the second time. Still outrageously pissed about basically nothing, and his fists remain clenched at his side rather than returning the gesture. But his weight slumps forward and his forehead thumps against Vergil's shoulder, unmistakable signs of surrender.
His shoulders tremble and he squeezes his eyes shut, fighting back tears. It's fine. He's fine. Vergil can hold him tight as he likes. He just needs a minute.]
There's movement at the corner of his eye, a hand on his shoulder, and he spins around defensively. Vergil moves in and out of sheer reflex he swats and stumbles back a step, and it's then with the second attempt that he realizes his father is trying to... hug him? This makes him freeze, torn between angry reflex and his implicit desire not to shun Vergil's clumsy attempts at affection.
So he ends up in Vergil's embrace the second time. Still outrageously pissed about basically nothing, and his fists remain clenched at his side rather than returning the gesture. But his weight slumps forward and his forehead thumps against Vergil's shoulder, unmistakable signs of surrender.
His shoulders tremble and he squeezes his eyes shut, fighting back tears. It's fine. He's fine. Vergil can hold him tight as he likes. He just needs a minute.]
[With one hand still holding Yamato, Vergil merely keeps that arm tightly wrapped around Nero once he finally relents and allows for Vergil to hold him. His hold on Nero's opposite shoulder with his free hand does not last long. Nero rests against him, hiding his face in Vergil's shoulder, and Vergil cradles the back of his head. He's not bothered at the lack of reciprocation and Nero's hands remaining balled into tight fists at his side because Vergil remembers what it was like when he was small. When he would grow so frustrated and angry that all the thoughts inside his head would jumble themselves together until he couldn't explain why he was so angry in the first place, not even to himself. He just knew it was white hot anger and he hated every second of it until he found himself on the verge of tears. And that would just reignite his temper all over again because he felt it was stupid and childish and so far below what he should be that he couldn't speak and it was even more all of those horrible things that he was about to cry over it.]
[Vergil can't really say he's necessarily gotten better about it per se. It comes out a little differently now at forty-four than it did at five or eight, after all. But he knows the only way past it is through, and he knows now it's better when he's not riding the flood of emotion all by himself. Even if in some ways it feels awful not to deal with it on his own, it's ultimately better knowing someone is there on the other side of it.]
It's okay, [he says, quietly.]
[He does not urge Nero one way or another on how to handle it any more than he really attempts to rush him along. He lets Nero find his own way through, trusting that he knows it better than Vergil possibly could. Vergil's hand drops from Nero's head to between his shoulders, rubbing a few circles there as Nero shakes and trembles before stilling his hand again. Vergil keeps his own breath steady and even against Nero's more labored, agitated breathing.]
You're okay.
[Vergil can't really say he's necessarily gotten better about it per se. It comes out a little differently now at forty-four than it did at five or eight, after all. But he knows the only way past it is through, and he knows now it's better when he's not riding the flood of emotion all by himself. Even if in some ways it feels awful not to deal with it on his own, it's ultimately better knowing someone is there on the other side of it.]
It's okay, [he says, quietly.]
[He does not urge Nero one way or another on how to handle it any more than he really attempts to rush him along. He lets Nero find his own way through, trusting that he knows it better than Vergil possibly could. Vergil's hand drops from Nero's head to between his shoulders, rubbing a few circles there as Nero shakes and trembles before stilling his hand again. Vergil keeps his own breath steady and even against Nero's more labored, agitated breathing.]
You're okay.
[Oh, thinks Nero. This is what it would be like. This is what it's like when his father holds him and tells him he's going to be okay. It's a wistful and longing feeling, and it's a good thing he's already on the verge of tears because that would have knocked him right over the edge otherwise.
He lingers there a minute, letting the rage and frustration and everything else rush over him like he's standing still in a rough surf. At a certain point it crests and finally starts to flow away, leaving embarrassment and shame in its wake.
It's a few minutes before Nero moves. It's to bring one of those balled fists forward in a gentle, frustrated thump against Vergil's leg.]
This is so fucking stupid.
He lingers there a minute, letting the rage and frustration and everything else rush over him like he's standing still in a rough surf. At a certain point it crests and finally starts to flow away, leaving embarrassment and shame in its wake.
It's a few minutes before Nero moves. It's to bring one of those balled fists forward in a gentle, frustrated thump against Vergil's leg.]
This is so fucking stupid.
[It's easy to tell when the worst of it is over even before Nero finally moves again by the way his body finally releases tension just enough to speak to the absence of his temper. Vergil shakes his head slightly when Nero finally speaks.]
You are being too harsh in your judgment of yourself.
[Now and before. A statement of observation rather than a criticism of his behavior.]
You are being too harsh in your judgment of yourself.
[Now and before. A statement of observation rather than a criticism of his behavior.]
How so?
[Nero couldn't necessarily be faulted if he felt the question wasn't sincere. Most people probably would not ask and would make their safe assumptions about why Nero felt the whole affair has been, in his own words, stupid. But for better or worse, Vergil tries to err on the side of caution when it comes to assumptions pertaining to Nero as best he can.]
[Nero couldn't necessarily be faulted if he felt the question wasn't sincere. Most people probably would not ask and would make their safe assumptions about why Nero felt the whole affair has been, in his own words, stupid. But for better or worse, Vergil tries to err on the side of caution when it comes to assumptions pertaining to Nero as best he can.]
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