[So, it was something that already happened? Vergil... Well, he wishes he could say that comes as a surprise. He assumes it to be a natural instinct one feels towards their child that nothing should have ever happened in their life that would lead to such dreams to ever be a possibility. But Vergil need only look so far as their first time meeting to find a potential source for nightmares, and he's not foolish enough to believe it to be such a rare exception in Nero's life even in the absence of so many details of Nero's life.]
[Vergil faintly hums his agreement to that sentiment.]
The past possesses an unpleasant ability to find its way into the present. Most often when it is liable to be the most distressing or otherwise inconvenient.
[He remains even in speaking. There's no stuttering to the circles on Nero's back, nor a hesitation in refreshing the cloth once more. Nothing reveals Vergil's internal world at that precise moment. But there is a guilt all the same that gnaws at Vergil in his chest, knowing it was a nightmare of the past. He knows it's entirely possible that the dream tonight had little or absolutely nothing to do with him, but that's irrelevant. The chance is not zero, and even if it was not tonight, who is to say it would not be some other night? And what is Vergil to do then? How is he meant to soothe his own child when he is the very source of his nightmares?]
And as you've said, it is not anything that can be changed. Even when it exists in the present, the past remains as it was. It's... [A maddening feeling of such helplessness for Vergil, quite frankly, and one of those emotions he previously did not need to contend with before allowing more of his own humanity to exist. But, to borrow Nero's vernacular rather than even beginning to explain something like that, which is largely irrelevant here,] Stupid.
no subject
[Vergil faintly hums his agreement to that sentiment.]
The past possesses an unpleasant ability to find its way into the present. Most often when it is liable to be the most distressing or otherwise inconvenient.
[He remains even in speaking. There's no stuttering to the circles on Nero's back, nor a hesitation in refreshing the cloth once more. Nothing reveals Vergil's internal world at that precise moment. But there is a guilt all the same that gnaws at Vergil in his chest, knowing it was a nightmare of the past. He knows it's entirely possible that the dream tonight had little or absolutely nothing to do with him, but that's irrelevant. The chance is not zero, and even if it was not tonight, who is to say it would not be some other night? And what is Vergil to do then? How is he meant to soothe his own child when he is the very source of his nightmares?]
And as you've said, it is not anything that can be changed. Even when it exists in the present, the past remains as it was. It's... [A maddening feeling of such helplessness for Vergil, quite frankly, and one of those emotions he previously did not need to contend with before allowing more of his own humanity to exist. But, to borrow Nero's vernacular rather than even beginning to explain something like that, which is largely irrelevant here,] Stupid.