[He says nothing to the nightmares, but noticably, Vergil's eyes avert ever so briefly. Vergil finds no fault in Dante sometimes dreaming of that day when they, unfortunately, have that in common. It bears too much weight on them, on the man and devil they became, for it not to return on occasion even if not to the intensity and frequency it had shortly after it happened.]
Maybe, [Vergil says faintly, eyes dropping to his plate for a moment. It's less a matter of doubting Eva's capacity for forgiving his sins or to love him in spite of what he became, and more Vergil doesn't know that he would let her. He could only face the version of his mother in that alternate reality because she had no knowledge of who he is or what he has done. That wasn't her reality, and thus, it remained a non-issue in whether or not she could look at him with love and pride. So, for as fake as it had been, it was simpler, too. And that was probably why it was meant to tempt him. Vergil couldn't break his mother's heart like that. Not now. He wouldn't be able to bring himself to face her. But there in that false reality? It was of little risk to him. She loved him, and he did not need to think of any reason why she shouldn't. Leaning forward and hunching a little, Vergil brushes it aside and picks up his fork again for another bite of lasagna.] It doesn't really matter. She isn't here.
[And speculating is pointless. Maybe Dante is right. Maybe Vergil is. They will never know either way.]
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Maybe, [Vergil says faintly, eyes dropping to his plate for a moment. It's less a matter of doubting Eva's capacity for forgiving his sins or to love him in spite of what he became, and more Vergil doesn't know that he would let her. He could only face the version of his mother in that alternate reality because she had no knowledge of who he is or what he has done. That wasn't her reality, and thus, it remained a non-issue in whether or not she could look at him with love and pride. So, for as fake as it had been, it was simpler, too. And that was probably why it was meant to tempt him. Vergil couldn't break his mother's heart like that. Not now. He wouldn't be able to bring himself to face her. But there in that false reality? It was of little risk to him. She loved him, and he did not need to think of any reason why she shouldn't. Leaning forward and hunching a little, Vergil brushes it aside and picks up his fork again for another bite of lasagna.] It doesn't really matter. She isn't here.
[And speculating is pointless. Maybe Dante is right. Maybe Vergil is. They will never know either way.]