Vergil suppresses a smile at Mizu's reaction to being given permission to practice with Mirage Edge. The disbelief and immediate enthusiasm is almost childlike in its earnestness and the quiet anxiety that Vergil might be joking or about to change his mind and rob him of the experience if he's not quick to take Vergil up on it. Whatever years of isolation and heartache and hardship Mizu has experienced seems to slough off him in an instant at the opportunity. He watches Mizu rise from the bed and quickly pad over to the training area to begin.
Whatever jest or teasing remark Vergil might have conjured up as Mizu begins to work through the movements that he's seen time and again from Vergil quiets long before it can reach his lips. Watching from where he's seated near the foot of his bed, Vergil is quietly impressed. For one who accused Vergil of cheating in his innate ability to understand a weapon by mere touch, Mizu is not too far off that mark himself. He's been on the receiving end of Vergil's techniques a few times now, and he moves carefully through each set of moves. Without Vergil needing to say a word, he spots his own mistakes quickly. He pauses. Corrects. Finishes. Tries again. Each repetition carries the intent of perfecting it. There is nothing else beyond Mizu and Mirage Edge, following each step that he can of Vergil's repertoire. He'd anticipated that it wouldn't be a series of undisciplined, wild swings or some dull experimentation with the balance and weight, but Vergil hadn't expected this.
It's not exactly atypical for Vergil to have nothing to say. He's always been quiet and more reserved than most, leaving others to often wonder and speculate what it is going through his mind. But now isn't a moment of Vergil's typical silence so much as it is speechlessness because he wants to say something. Anything about Mizu's dedication and attention to detail to immediately recognize his own mistakes. The grace of his movements even while still recovering from injuries and no doubt experience his own degree of soreness. Vergil uncrosses his legs so that both feet now rest on the floor, sitting up straighter with his hands in his lap as words come to him.
To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour
They are not his own words and he does not speak them. But they and their meaning settle with each pulse of Vergil's heart because it's true. There is something inherently magnificent and greater than it seems about something as mundane as Mizu running through Vergil's movements and attempting to perfect them in his replication. Something that Vergil would not likely have been able to see or understand years ago, but he can come to appreciate now.
Vergil purses his lips slightly and almost wishes they were still outside with more space. Mizu wouldn't be able to control the other things that Mirage Edge can do beyond that of a typical blade. Mirage Edge isn't a fully realized Devil Arm wherein its wielder can access the full extent of its power like that if it accepts them as its master, but Vergil would still be able to exert his will over it. It would be interesting to see if they could work so in tandem with one another like that. He itches for more, wanting to summon his clone once more to give Mizu something to practice against or hell, to spar with Mizu again himself for another exhilarating bout.
But he makes no more suggestion than he does pay a compliment. It's greedy and selfish to want more right now with the state Mizu is in. His wounds may be closed, but he's lost a significant amount of blood and he's still not yet in his peak condition once more. Pushing him past his limits and encouraging that sort of behavior would likely only lead to disaster. Perhaps not today, but eventually. Vergil glances away to look outside the balcony, drawing an intentionally slow breath and releasing it before looking at Mizu again. This is enough, he tells himself. It is enough that Mizu practices as he does now, working with the strength and skill that he now possesses.
no subject
Whatever jest or teasing remark Vergil might have conjured up as Mizu begins to work through the movements that he's seen time and again from Vergil quiets long before it can reach his lips. Watching from where he's seated near the foot of his bed, Vergil is quietly impressed. For one who accused Vergil of cheating in his innate ability to understand a weapon by mere touch, Mizu is not too far off that mark himself. He's been on the receiving end of Vergil's techniques a few times now, and he moves carefully through each set of moves. Without Vergil needing to say a word, he spots his own mistakes quickly. He pauses. Corrects. Finishes. Tries again. Each repetition carries the intent of perfecting it. There is nothing else beyond Mizu and Mirage Edge, following each step that he can of Vergil's repertoire. He'd anticipated that it wouldn't be a series of undisciplined, wild swings or some dull experimentation with the balance and weight, but Vergil hadn't expected this.
It's not exactly atypical for Vergil to have nothing to say. He's always been quiet and more reserved than most, leaving others to often wonder and speculate what it is going through his mind. But now isn't a moment of Vergil's typical silence so much as it is speechlessness because he wants to say something. Anything about Mizu's dedication and attention to detail to immediately recognize his own mistakes. The grace of his movements even while still recovering from injuries and no doubt experience his own degree of soreness. Vergil uncrosses his legs so that both feet now rest on the floor, sitting up straighter with his hands in his lap as words come to him.
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
They are not his own words and he does not speak them. But they and their meaning settle with each pulse of Vergil's heart because it's true. There is something inherently magnificent and greater than it seems about something as mundane as Mizu running through Vergil's movements and attempting to perfect them in his replication. Something that Vergil would not likely have been able to see or understand years ago, but he can come to appreciate now.
Vergil purses his lips slightly and almost wishes they were still outside with more space. Mizu wouldn't be able to control the other things that Mirage Edge can do beyond that of a typical blade. Mirage Edge isn't a fully realized Devil Arm wherein its wielder can access the full extent of its power like that if it accepts them as its master, but Vergil would still be able to exert his will over it. It would be interesting to see if they could work so in tandem with one another like that. He itches for more, wanting to summon his clone once more to give Mizu something to practice against or hell, to spar with Mizu again himself for another exhilarating bout.
But he makes no more suggestion than he does pay a compliment. It's greedy and selfish to want more right now with the state Mizu is in. His wounds may be closed, but he's lost a significant amount of blood and he's still not yet in his peak condition once more. Pushing him past his limits and encouraging that sort of behavior would likely only lead to disaster. Perhaps not today, but eventually. Vergil glances away to look outside the balcony, drawing an intentionally slow breath and releasing it before looking at Mizu again. This is enough, he tells himself. It is enough that Mizu practices as he does now, working with the strength and skill that he now possesses.