He watches as Mizu lays his sword across his lap, his gaze dropping down to the sheathed blade. He remembers what Mizu said at the bonfire about not being ready for his true blade, and needing to reforge it. But the time wasn't right, according to him. Not yet. Silently, Vergil counts the months since they arrived. Six months. Six months and there's nothing to suggest or indicate that Mizu feels any more ready to reforge his blade and wield it anew. He looks up at Mizu again, scrutinizing him as though somehow the answer as to what Mizu feels still needs to change about him to be worthy of it. Nothing reveals itself to Vergil though. And how could it possibly when Mizu himself didn't seem entirely certain of it?
Vergil turns his hands over in his lap and summons Mirage Edge, the flat side of the blade resting in his other palm.
"This is based on one of my father's other blades, Force Edge." A blade that Vergil only ever had the opportunity to use once before he was proven not strong enough to take hold of his father's power and suffered a crushing defeat. He tries not to taste the bitter taste the memory inspires in the back of his throat and offers it to Mizu. For as many times as Mizu has been struck by Mirage Edge, he's never had the opportunity to actually examine it.
If Mizu takes it, Mirage Edge will feel no different from any other blade. It has weight and balance of its own even if it's not made from any sort of tangible materials. Without any means of sensing magic, there's nothing that belies all that Mizu has seen it can do. Really the only thing that seems to speak to its nature at all is the fact it's the same sort of warmth that had been Vergil had been exhausting when he transformed. It's almost as though Mizu has been able to physically hold the sensation of warming his hands over a fire.
"I tried to claim it for myself once, but it was not meant to be. I only came to use this phantom version of it when Yamato was..." he says, hesitating as he tries to find the right word. There are many he could use. Lost. Nearly destroyed. Broken. Ripped away. He finds a middle ground. "...Taken."
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Vergil turns his hands over in his lap and summons Mirage Edge, the flat side of the blade resting in his other palm.
"This is based on one of my father's other blades, Force Edge." A blade that Vergil only ever had the opportunity to use once before he was proven not strong enough to take hold of his father's power and suffered a crushing defeat. He tries not to taste the bitter taste the memory inspires in the back of his throat and offers it to Mizu. For as many times as Mizu has been struck by Mirage Edge, he's never had the opportunity to actually examine it.
If Mizu takes it, Mirage Edge will feel no different from any other blade. It has weight and balance of its own even if it's not made from any sort of tangible materials. Without any means of sensing magic, there's nothing that belies all that Mizu has seen it can do. Really the only thing that seems to speak to its nature at all is the fact it's the same sort of warmth that had been Vergil had been exhausting when he transformed. It's almost as though Mizu has been able to physically hold the sensation of warming his hands over a fire.
"I tried to claim it for myself once, but it was not meant to be. I only came to use this phantom version of it when Yamato was..." he says, hesitating as he tries to find the right word. There are many he could use. Lost. Nearly destroyed. Broken. Ripped away. He finds a middle ground. "...Taken."