Familiar as Mizu is with her own thoughts of Vergil when they are apart, thoughts that only fade when her focus is so intense nothing but her current actions fill her mind, Vergil's descriptions are not that great a surprise. Her bed feels cold and vast when she wakes up alone in it, and she rises immediately, instead of the many hours Vergil gets her to stay when he's there. Without him, it's simply a place to sleep and to take the necessary rest to get to the business of her day. Nothing special.
It is indeed a lonely morning. Those weeks at Amrita, whatever else they did, introduced her to them by spending every night together. That might have continued afterward, save that Dante stayed with Vergil. Then Nero arrived. Mizu will not tear him apart from his family nor ask him to choose between them. A fool's errand, even if she were so selfish of him and his happiness to consider trying to keep him all to herself. That would never work, and if it did, in the end, it would only leave him alone. Far better that Vergil has people, the life he came to Folkmore to seek, with or without her.
Mizu does not understand how he can think so well of her, how thoughts of her can bring him peace and happiness without the dark shadow of separation that waits for them. It is of her making without any need of the fox spirit's interference to heighten the drama into a tragedy.
"I am not that good," Mizu declares, "You wonderful idiot."
She pulls him in for a kiss, hard and demanding. Demanding what, Mizu isn't certain, only that she needs Vergil and something from him. No, perhaps it's to give something to him. She breaks it off with a grunt of frustration to kiss and bite her way down his jaw and to his neck. There, Mizu makes yet another attempt at leaving her mark on him. She sucks and bites and pulls on his skin. Over and over, she gives herself to the effort, but the mark doesn't stay. It never stays. She leans her face into his neck, eyes damp. That image he painted will disappear after she does. Mizu knows it.
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It is indeed a lonely morning. Those weeks at Amrita, whatever else they did, introduced her to them by spending every night together. That might have continued afterward, save that Dante stayed with Vergil. Then Nero arrived. Mizu will not tear him apart from his family nor ask him to choose between them. A fool's errand, even if she were so selfish of him and his happiness to consider trying to keep him all to herself. That would never work, and if it did, in the end, it would only leave him alone. Far better that Vergil has people, the life he came to Folkmore to seek, with or without her.
Mizu does not understand how he can think so well of her, how thoughts of her can bring him peace and happiness without the dark shadow of separation that waits for them. It is of her making without any need of the fox spirit's interference to heighten the drama into a tragedy.
"I am not that good," Mizu declares, "You wonderful idiot."
She pulls him in for a kiss, hard and demanding. Demanding what, Mizu isn't certain, only that she needs Vergil and something from him. No, perhaps it's to give something to him. She breaks it off with a grunt of frustration to kiss and bite her way down his jaw and to his neck. There, Mizu makes yet another attempt at leaving her mark on him. She sucks and bites and pulls on his skin. Over and over, she gives herself to the effort, but the mark doesn't stay. It never stays. She leans her face into his neck, eyes damp. That image he painted will disappear after she does. Mizu knows it.