( Hark! Is that a brother actually doing what he asks for once? For a second, he blinks β wanting to make sure he actually heard the knock right, but. When the other two come, thatβs when he barks a laugh to himself and shakes his head. )
Well Iβll be damned.
( Some days he really is.
But! Knowing he has about twenty seconds before his brother wanders his way in and, inevitably, asks what kind of tomfoolery heβs up to with sending him a message like that, he makes haste in his finishing up what heβs been doing in the kitchen whichβ¦ looks like a mess, really no other way of putting it. Heβs sure Vergil is liable to come close to blowing a baby gasket at the sight, but. Heβll clean it up. After.
When Vergil finds him, thereβs dirty pots stacked one on the other littered about the kitchen countertops along with various open bags of ingredients heβd needed to make the surprise heβd been cooking up for his brother. Oven mitts on, he turns to face his brother when he hears him, beaming and covered in red. Tomato sauce, for once instead of blood. Glass dish of lasagna held between his hands. Holding it up proudly then, he smiles. )
[Vergil stands there on the threshold between the living room and the kitchen, staring for a long moment even if his gaze does not linger on any one thing. It's technically not his kitchen. His kitchen is back in Satori Hills and probably belongs to someone else by now. Assuming it technically exists at all anymore given that the apartments themselves seem to change to what's needed by the new tenant. Either way, this kitchen is technically far more shared than that one because it was never his alone. And to some extent, Vergil's gotten better about sharing the responsibilities for meals a little more, particularly with Nero. But he still feels a degree of ownership over it, and still maintains it to a particular standard that anyone who enters it is implicitly agreeing to maintain or face the consequences. Vergil's eyes trail over the wreckage before making their way back to Dante, who also stands before him a mess.]
So you did, [Vergil says in a tone and pitch that absolutely belies just how much effort he's exerting to restrain himself right now. Vergil looks at the lasagna in Dante's hands as he calmly reviews why fratricide is a poor choice and it would likely be a deep, disappointing blow to Nero. Because the lasagna in his brother's hands is a nice gesture. It is a very kind, considerate gesture. Dante doesn't really cook all that often, but he went through the trouble of cooking something for Vergil. For no immediate or obvious reason. And he's clearly proud of the resultβas he probably should be for how little Dante tends to cookβand smiling at Vergil with all of his good intentions.] It...smells nice.
[Which isn't a false compliment even if it's a little on the weaker end while Vergil emotionally grapples with the state of the kitchen. He draws a steadying breath.]
( A chuckle then, he shakes his head as he brings the hot dish over to set on the table over a tea towel he laid down. Wouldn't want to get the table too hot after all! )
C'mon! Try some! I've been workin' my butt off in here.
( The lasagna itself looks... fine... save for the slightly burned edges, but. Definitely edible. Rich tomato sauce dripping between thick noodles stuffed with meat and a couple other vegetables β spice to taste! He proudly shows off the dish with his hands before he makes his way over to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of red wine that he sets down beside the lasagna on the table there. )
And something to drink, too. I thought it might go well with it.
( Hands on his waist, he stands there and waits rather expectantly for his brother to sit down and try some, utensils already laid out there on the table along with a glass. Just, you know. Ignore the tomato sauce smeared across his cheek and forehead. Don't ask. )
[As Dante steps away to place the lasagna down, Vergil pays one last look to his kitchen before following Dante over to the table. Standing there, he watches his brother dart back to the refrigerator for the wine he had been chilling.]
Youβ [His brow furrows a little, but it's not an angry one. It's the face Vergil always makes when he is actively trying to process something before him, and needs a moment to assess and take everything in.] You really put a lot of thought into this...
[He doesn't mean to sound so surprised necessarily. Vergil knows his brother, and he knows while Dante may have the tendency to act as though he doesn't know much of anything, he is exceptionally clever. He would not be able to be quite so improvisational in a fight if that were not the case, especially when going against an opponent he's never faced before. Nor would he be perceptive enough to read Vergil's mood with as little as Vergil often provides by way of hints about it. It's also not really that surprising Dante put so much thought into something he put his mind to doing. Even if he did end up with tomato sauce smeared across most of his face, and Vergil can't be too certain there isn't also some pieces of cheese somehow stuck in his hair.]
[But still...]
[Vergil draws a breath and his lips part to say something, but he hesitates for a moment as he looks from the dish of lasagna back to his brother. Slowly, he sits down in front of the place setting meant for him.]
You really just...did this. For me? Without any other motive other than you...wanted to do it?
[Vergil isn't trying to accuse Dante of being otherwise inconsiderate, nor is the question meant to imply Dante never thinks of Vergil. There's a few books on Vergil's bookshelf in his bedroom, and a family portrait that highlight that not being the case in the slightest even if Vergil doubted his brother. But this is a lot of effort. Lasagna is more complicated than it seems on its surface, and Dante could have just as easily used his Lore to summon a premade one that all he had to do with put in the oven and claim he made it himself. He also went to the trouble of finding a wine to match, and setting the table in advance.]
[Which is why he raised the question of what exactly the occasion happens to be whether there's something special that Dante wants to mark, or he has something he needs to tell Vergil and otherwise make up for (beyond the disaster of the kitchen, of course). It is so much effort for no particular reason.]
( Hell yeah he did. Itβs not everyday the youngest son of Sparda slaps an apron on and lets loose in the kitchen and while not a special occasion for his reason doing this, still isnβt everyday one catches him like this. Hell, he canβt even really remember the last time he did something like this for himselfβ¦. probably never. Unless heating up pre-packaged food counts.
He waits for his brother to get himself comfortable β hands clasped behind his back then with blue eyes sparkling with both curiosity and a certain sort of anxiety over whether or not heβll like any of this. He knows the suspicion is there β that heβs probably wondering what led to his wanting to suddenly do this out of the blue, but. He just stands there and waits, smiling like when they were kids and he was waiting for Vergil to give into his wanting to play with him.
Chuckle on his lips, he leans across the table some, bracing himself on a hand as he plucks a knife up and starts to cut into the lasagna there. )
Canβt a guy just wanna do something for his brother and not want something out of it? Weβre not eight anymore.
( Debatable with how they get sometimes, but.
Cutting into the lasagna, tongue sticking out a little with his concentration, he shovels a good sized portion out of the glass dish and plops it down on the plate there in front of Vergil, splashing some of the tomato sauce as he does. A chuckle, he cringes. )
Whoops. Heh.
( With the pad of his thumb, he brushes away the splash of sauce that got him on the cheek and licks it off, making a pleased little noise as he does before he eagerly points to the dish. )
That right there is culinary art.
( Another chuckle, he straightens himself up and stands there, lips pressed together as he anxiously waits⦠for his brother to give it a try. )
[Culinary art might be a bit of a stretch, but Vergil is willing to let it slide without challenge. Somewhat clumsy plating aside, it doesn't smell offensive and the majority of it is golden brown rather than charred. It's certainly more than Vergil would have assumed his brother was capable of if he's honest. But that's a common mistake when it comes to Dante, isn't it? Underestimation that leads to him getting the element of surprise.]
[Picking up his fork, Vergil cuts a bite from the slice that Dante has plated up for him. He purposely takes from a portion of the slice that's in the interior to avoid any...crispier pieces along the edge for now. Truthfully, he could do without the expectant staring. Well, perhaps not staring, but certainly watching. Vergil understands his brother is perhaps a bit anxious and wants the dish to be well-received, but there's a limit to how closely Vergil would prefer he's watched while he eats. Hopefully it's just for this first bite. Vergil blows on it gently before eating it to avoid scalding his mouth and give it an overall fair chance.]
[...To Vergil's further surprise, it's not just not bad, it's competently made and quite good. The layers of meat sauce and cheese harmonize well with the spices Dante's put into it, and the veggies while tender make it a heartier bite than it would be with meat alone. He hums quietly, pleased with what his brother has managed to do, but waits until he's swallowed the bite before offering such direct feedback.]
You did well, Dante. I like it.
[Coming from anyone else, that would probably seems a touch insincere or like they were not particularly enthused. But that's high praise coming from Vergil.]
( At that, he claps his hands β bark of laughter leaving him. )
Hot damn!
( A punch to the air, he grins β hand up with a few nods. )
Thank you, thank you. Let it be known that I, Dante, son of Sparda, not only slay demons, but slay in the kitchen as well.
( Chuckling and beaming all proudly there, he reaches over for the bottle of wine then and cracks that baby open, pouring his dear brother a rather generous amount there in the glass he has set out for him because, you know, it pairs well and all. Or so he figures. )
[Vergil rolls his a little at the theatrics from Dante, but even if he wouldn't necessarily acknowledge his faint smile, Vergil doesn't rain on Dante's parade by telling him to knock it off or not to get so ahead of himself.]
So, what you are saying is you have no excuse next time I ask for your help in the kitchen, [he says as Dante pours the wine. That...is more than Vergil would have poured for himself. But again, he says nothing of it. Even with as little as Vergil tends to drink, it's nothing the demonic metabolism won't be able to quickly burn off before it has any real effect.] Is your plan to just watch me eat, or did you intend on sampling some of your work for yourself?
( He seems almost flabbergasted that Vergil would think otherwise. Wine bottle set down, he puts a hand on his waist then, chuckling softly. )
You can wrap it up in tin foil and take some with you when you go to do... ( this is where he waves a hand around ) ...you know. Whatever it is you do around here. Have a snack ready on hand! See? Look at that. I'm thinkin' ahead.
( To which he gives his temple a few taps with the tip of his finger. )
Try not to pass out from the strain of it, [Vergil teases lightly.] But you don't really expect me to be able to eat all of this on my own, do you?
[As much as Vergil's willing to let Dante be proud and excited of his work here, Vergil is not willing to dedicate three square meals a day to lasagna in order to get through a pan of lasagna before it becomes...off. Not that Vergil thinks a food-borne pathogen would really be enough to strike him down, but the taste sure as hell wouldn't be pleasant.]
Besides, if you're giving it to me, does that not mean I decide if I wish to share it or not?
[Vergil glances at his own shoulder to be certain there isn't any transference of tomato sauce or any other such mess to his shoulder. Fortunately for Dante, he gets to live to see another day. He pushes out a nearby chair out with his foot.]
At least sit down and stop hovering then if you're not going to eat any now. [It's weird, Dante.] Unless you'd rather start undoing the damage you've done to my kitchen.
[Vergil fixes Dante with a look when he says he'll take care of it later, wordlessly warning that later better come before the end of the night. Waking up in the morning to find the kitchen still the same would be a quick way to get on Vergil's bad side even when considering the lasagna.]
Just make sure the dishes are clean, and you've wiped down the counters and stovetop.
[He leaves it implied that he'll handle the rest at that point. The lasagna might not be able to spare Dante from Vergil's wrath if the kitchen is still a disaster come morning, but it is at least enough to get him out of having to clean and organize it entirely to Vergil's standards at the very least. As Vergil cuts another bite of lasagna off from his piece, he changes the subject.]
Dare I ask how you've been keeping yourself busy these days aside from exploring the culinary arts?
[Not that he hasn't seen Dante around at all, but he did go from a brief stint of keeping to his room before spending more time outside of the house. Thankfully after his little slip-up not that long ago, he hasn't resumed cooping himself up, but it does mean it's been a while since the sons of Sparda were home at the same time.]
( Plucking a fork from the table, he looks it over as he considers his brother's question, smile faint on his lips. )
Seeing what this place has to offer in terms of extracurricular activities.
( Twirling the fork around a couple times, he leans over the table and stabs it in the lasagna, helping himself to a piece which he brings to his mouth with the help of his other hand there beneath it so as not to accidentally drop any. )
You been to the swamps around here? They've got some pretty wild things to dance with there.
( Shoveling the serving in his mouth, he chews happily, dropping himself back down into his seat as he smiles to his brother. )
[Vergil shakes his head a little as he's swallowing his bite of lasagna.]
I haven't ventured to Exile at all. [He's heard enough tell of it to not want to venture too deep into that region.] But I have heard the swamps are particularly dangerous.
[Vergil is not referring to the creatures that wander the area, however, so much as the mental effect the region appears to have on those who enter.]
I'll say. Whole lot of dangerous swamp babes around there.
( Waggling his eyebrows, he chuckles then, clearly teasing but also not really because... he's encountered a couple of those in the times he's wandered his way to a particular bog. Nothing he couldn't handle and usually tends to make it out with little to no scratches. Aside from Cruel Summer, Exile really is one of the only other places he's found with a bit more of a challenge to take on when dancing with the creatures there.
Reaching over, he takes another small forkful of lasagna for himself β shovels that baby in as well before he's settling back in his seat once more. )
Keeps me busy, I guess. It's not like back home where I usually get someone comin' to me for somethin' or getting calls on the phone about a job needing to be done. I kind of miss it sometimes.
( He felt he had more of a purpose back home. Here? He's not so sure. )
[As Dante speaks Vergil has another bite of lasagna, and simply listens. Although he still wrinkles his nose at the mention of "swamp babes." He does not ask because he does not wish to know.]
[Vergil is not certain if it's particularly surprising to hear Dante acknowledge he misses devil hunting. On the one hand, Dante's never done well with being still. And it's not as though Vergil has somehow allowed for his skills to atrophy since coming to Folkmore. He's sparred with Mizu countless times since nearly the beginning, and while that does not exactly translate to what he needs to defeat a demon, it's been wonderful for honing on his technique if nothing else. ABarring that, on occasion, he found himself in the fighting pits or putting down monsters that may manifest themselves as a result of trials. And now he has the opportunity to train Nero and put his skills to a greater test by sparring with Dante. Vergil does not have a reason to really seek out more than that. Not like Dante seeking out creatures in Exile.]
[On the other and arguably more important hand, Vergil would think the lack of violent responsibilities would come as a bit of a reprieve for Dante after... Well, it's been a few decades, hasn't it? At least since they were eighteen. Maybe longer. Vergil remains on-guard himself even a year later with so few threats, but he would be lying if he said he didn't find some measure of relief in truly knowing there was nothing hunting him for the first time in his life. There's a semblance of peace that comes with it, anyways. He would think Dante would feel the same way, and whatever thrill he might seek from his work would not bear much weight in light of that.]
[He looks at Dante with a furrowed brow, confused as he concludes that no, it actually is surprising to hear Dante say that. He would think this is what Dante has probably always wanted from the beginning: a mundane life without the shadow of their father's legacy looming over him. He gets to be himself.]
...You miss fighting for your life on a regular basis? [He wrinkles his nose again with a shake of his head. As he gets another bite of lasagna, he says,] I would think you would leap at the chance to indulge in other facets of your life that have been neglected because of your duties. After all, you have made it clear you feel strongly that I essentially do as much.
[Vergil's almost certain Dante is going to claim it's different given their circumstances. And maybe it is, but Vergil doesn't think it necessarily means he's wrong to draw a comparison and reach such a conclusion.]
( Smile on his lips, he chuckles, shake of his head to follow. )
I said kind of. Itβs a figure of speech. Donβt take it so literal, Verge.
( Itβs just familiar and something heβs grown used to, if even unwillingly, over the years. Routine as they say. Even when heβd followed after his brother to the underworld, he knew there would be demons waiting to try their luck on the sons of Sparda. Foolish on their part, like always, but just another day that ended in y. Only difference was, he had his brother alongside him instead of the others.
It sucks they had to leave Nero behind as they did, but. He knew theyβd figure a way back to the human realm. As if anything or any place could ever really defeat him or his brother. At least Neroβs here now, justβ¦ away from Kyrie, his friends, and the orphans, which he knows is hard for him sometimes. To have the chance to be with your father finally but unable to be with your lady loveβ¦ gotta hurt some days. He knows it does β has seen the kid get gloomy about it. Talk about a double-edged sword.
Licking the sauce off the fork, he shrugs. )
Also, I did leap. After you. Whether or not this place is permanent, youβre here and thatβs all Iβve really wanted.
( To have his brother back. )
If you werenβt, I wouldnβt have got to make you this super amazing lasagna that is probably your favorite dish ever now.
( Teasing some, but. Heβs also quite proud that Vergil likes his dish. )
[Vergil says nothing right away, contemplative as he stabs a piece of meat that managed to flee from its layer and pushing it in some of the sauce on his plate idly. He had been here for nine months beginning to work towards ten on his own before Dante arrived. It wasn't as though Vergil somehow didn't miss his brother in that time, and he certainly wished Dante would be one of those bright lights falling from the heavens rather than toiling away in the Underworld still, but... Well, it was a bit like how accustomed Dante became with his devil hunting. Vergil had gotten accustomed to being on his own. He didn't miss Dante every waking minute of every day because his absence felt normal. Expected.]
[So, in truth, it's been more disquieting for Vergil to have his brother around than not. Which Vergil feels immense guilt over admitting even privately just to himself, but it's the truth. He knows more of how to be a father to Nero than he knows to be a brother to Dante. He has the example of Sparda before him and while not a perfectly clean slate, it's at least not a long of a history as what lies between brothers to give him a starting point with Nero. He has no such equivalent with Dante. Only how they were as children, which Vergil struggles to find applicable considering neither of them are the children they used to be.]
[And maybe that's the problem. Maybe that's why Vergil struggles so much in knowing how to be Dante's brother again. Dante isn't the snot-nosed little brat who could always make Vergil laugh despite his hot, angry tears and self-serious temperament. He isn't that kid who never seemed to worry about consequences, chasing after what was fun without a care in the world. For all the accusations Vergil gives Dante about being immature, he grew up. He changed. Vergil did, too. And yet, they still so often try to treat each other like those little boys that used to beat each other bloody, but would have done anything for his twin. As though no time at all had passed.]
[Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. They get stuck when it doesn't, and both seem to lack ideas of how to recover from it. Vergil can't and won't speak for Dante, but he knows he walks away from it disheartened when that happens. Even when it feels earned because of the choices Vergil made or Vergil can recognize Dante isn't the child he used to be and someone he still has so much work to do in getting to know again...]
[Dante tells Vergil time and time again not to worry and claims to have it all under control, and probably thinks he's doing Vergil a kindness in doing as much. In his mind, he likely thinks that he's somehow freeing Vergil up from worry and responsibilities that could somehow distract from what he needs or wants. But the reality is that Vergl feels brushed aside. And that's the rub. Dante says he needs Vergil, wants him around, but it feels like every time there's that possibility to be let in? Dante pushes back. Not usually in any sort of anger, and certainly not with hostility even when Vergil does push a button, but... He pushes back all the same, and Vergil finds himself at a loss with what to do. Sometimes he gets in his head, wondering if he did something wrong. Other times, he stews in a mild amount of frustration of wanting Dante to let him be his big brother again in ways that matter and count to them now and not the past.]
[A question rests at the tip of his tongue, but Vergil recognizes it as selfish, which means it has a greater capacity to be hurtful. So, he doesn't ask Dante if he has any regrets about following him into the Underworld, into Folkmore. Looking for such reassurance seems childish anyways, and what sort of foolish question is that in the first place? Of course Dante would have regrets. Maybe not enough to make him choose other than as he did, but there were things about home he must miss beyond his work.]
You would have enjoyed aspects of the false reality the Fox attempted to deceive me with then.
[Eva never died, brothers were never separated, and Nero grew up with his parents, his family. Sparda was still gone within the illusion, but maybe the Fox felt it would have been too obvious a lie to have given Vergil that much. It perhaps would have seemed too ideal to be tempted by it in that circumstance, but Eva's mere presence was ultimately enough for Vergil to mistrust it.]
I suspect because both of you are here in Folkmore that you and Nero were away in the illusion, but from all that I could observe before Mizu and I were able to leave, we had never been separated from one another. [He sets his fork down, the piece of meat ultimately untouched.] She seemed to believe such ideals could lead me astray if left to implication, but I have the both of you here now and that will not change even once we leave this place.
I have little need for a pretty lie in comparison.
[He glances at Dante then, drawing a breath and releasing it.]
Although I will not pretend I felt nothing upon seeing her again.
[He doesn't bother clarifying that it was their mother. He trusts Dante can put that together for himself.]
( Gently stabbing his fork into a napkin, he slowly twists it about back and forth while staring to it, smile barely a ghost of one there on his lips. )
Yeah. I miss her, too.
( He always had and always all. Just as he had with Vergil before he came back as he did. Honestly probably a good thing he didnβt end up on some train ride because heβd find it more insulting to puppet some fake version of his mother than something heβs wish was true. Then again, heβs had years and years to grieve and mourn her, though it doesnβt diminish how he still misses her. )
I still get nightmares of that. Even at this age. Kind of dumb, huh? Youβd think thatβd pass with time.
( Theyβre never as bad or as frequent as the first decade or so after it happened, but. Theyβre still enough to jolt him awake suddenly β sometimes to the point where heβs not sure where he is the first few seconds upon waking, but. He still gets them. Different pieces and versions of them, and he hates them every time.
Napkin all twisted up there in his fork, he pulls it away and smiles a little up to Vergil then. )
Sheβd be proud of you, you know. How far youβve come. I know you might balk at the thought of that because of the past and all, but. You overcame it all in the end and I think she always knew you would.
[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.]
( Quiet, he looks down to the napkin again β allows himself a brief smile before he gives a sigh. )
I mean... she is to me. I carry her with me. In my heart. I carried you, too.
( Until he had him back in his life again. He still does, just. It's different now. Since he's here. A different sort of carrying him within his heart. Then, perhaps a little more softly and almost shyly, the words to leave him are ones with a sadness to them. )
And dad.
( With the pad of his thumb, he presses at the corner of his eye β stops the tear there β and stands then, blowing out a dramatic sigh as he rolls his shoulders and swings his arms, fork dropped to the napkin. )
You really like it? ( He stares to him almost a little sheepishly. ) You know it's my first time making that, right?
[It's not the existence of Dante holding any sort of positive regard for their father that pulls Vergil's gaze back to his twin. Regardless of how much in the forefront Dante's resentments towards Sparda often is, Vergil knows by virtue of his own previously held resentment towards Eva that it's not so straightforward as that. Resentment like that is only born after a great love and admiration was betrayed, but it does not inherently mean the total destruction of it. For as much as Vergil resented Eva for not saving him and when it deepened all the further to discover his brother lived, no amount of anger or hatred towards her could unmake his contrary feelings. But Vergil is surprised to hear Dante acknowledge it aloud, particularly to him of all people.]
[He looks back down to his plate again, expression slightly pinched as he holds back the swell of emotion that Dante dances away from in his own way.]
[Oh, Vergil is angry and remains so when it comes to using their mother as she had been during the trial. But he misses her. He misses her, and he misses their father. And he hates that there is still yet this foolish, childish wish that somehow their family could have somehow come out of everything unscathed. Vergil draws a breath though because it is as he said to Trish. He has no desire to dwell in the past, to hopelessly wish for things that cannot be. Their parents are dead, and they are not the children they once were. The only thing there is now is what's directly in front of Vergil, and that's where he'd prefer to put his energy.]
[Vergil smiles faintly at Dante.]
I wouldn't be able to tell it was your first time making it. [Vergil taps a bit of the burnt edge on his piece as with the prongs of his fork and lightly teases,] Maybe a little less time in the oven and try to wear less of it next time, but you did well, little brother.
( He's unable to help the swell of pride he can feel in his chest at his dear big brother liking his cooking. What little brother isn't always after their big brother's approval, after all?
Nod of his head, he plants his hands on his waist and smiles. Pleased. With the outcome of his cooking and the fact that Vergil seems to like it. Maybe it's not his most favorite thing ever, but. It's enough to put a smile on the youngest son of Sparda's face and that's really all he was going for anyways with all this.
With that, he slips himself away from the chair and goes about loading up the sink with the dirty dishes from his creation. )
I'm thinkin' quiche next time. Yanno. When I get in the mood to rock out in the kitchen. You ever had that?
( Who's to say when that will be, but. There might very well be an encore of this performance sometime in the future. Date to be determined, naturally. )
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Well Iβll be damned.
( Some days he really is.
But! Knowing he has about twenty seconds before his brother wanders his way in and, inevitably, asks what kind of tomfoolery heβs up to with sending him a message like that, he makes haste in his finishing up what heβs been doing in the kitchen whichβ¦ looks like a mess, really no other way of putting it. Heβs sure Vergil is liable to come close to blowing a baby gasket at the sight, but. Heβll clean it up. After.
When Vergil finds him, thereβs dirty pots stacked one on the other littered about the kitchen countertops along with various open bags of ingredients heβd needed to make the surprise heβd been cooking up for his brother. Oven mitts on, he turns to face his brother when he hears him, beaming and covered in red. Tomato sauce, for once instead of blood. Glass dish of lasagna held between his hands. Holding it up proudly then, he smiles. )
Surprise! I cooked for you!
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So you did, [Vergil says in a tone and pitch that absolutely belies just how much effort he's exerting to restrain himself right now. Vergil looks at the lasagna in Dante's hands as he calmly reviews why fratricide is a poor choice and it would likely be a deep, disappointing blow to Nero. Because the lasagna in his brother's hands is a nice gesture. It is a very kind, considerate gesture. Dante doesn't really cook all that often, but he went through the trouble of cooking something for Vergil. For no immediate or obvious reason. And he's clearly proud of the resultβas he probably should be for how little Dante tends to cookβand smiling at Vergil with all of his good intentions.] It...smells nice.
[Which isn't a false compliment even if it's a little on the weaker end while Vergil emotionally grapples with the state of the kitchen. He draws a steadying breath.]
What's the occasion?
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What? I need an occasion to cook?
( A chuckle then, he shakes his head as he brings the hot dish over to set on the table over a tea towel he laid down. Wouldn't want to get the table too hot after all! )
C'mon! Try some! I've been workin' my butt off in here.
( The lasagna itself looks... fine... save for the slightly burned edges, but. Definitely edible. Rich tomato sauce dripping between thick noodles stuffed with meat and a couple other vegetables β spice to taste! He proudly shows off the dish with his hands before he makes his way over to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of red wine that he sets down beside the lasagna on the table there. )
And something to drink, too. I thought it might go well with it.
( Hands on his waist, he stands there and waits rather expectantly for his brother to sit down and try some, utensils already laid out there on the table along with a glass. Just, you know. Ignore the tomato sauce smeared across his cheek and forehead. Don't ask. )
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Youβ [His brow furrows a little, but it's not an angry one. It's the face Vergil always makes when he is actively trying to process something before him, and needs a moment to assess and take everything in.] You really put a lot of thought into this...
[He doesn't mean to sound so surprised necessarily. Vergil knows his brother, and he knows while Dante may have the tendency to act as though he doesn't know much of anything, he is exceptionally clever. He would not be able to be quite so improvisational in a fight if that were not the case, especially when going against an opponent he's never faced before. Nor would he be perceptive enough to read Vergil's mood with as little as Vergil often provides by way of hints about it. It's also not really that surprising Dante put so much thought into something he put his mind to doing. Even if he did end up with tomato sauce smeared across most of his face, and Vergil can't be too certain there isn't also some pieces of cheese somehow stuck in his hair.]
[But still...]
[Vergil draws a breath and his lips part to say something, but he hesitates for a moment as he looks from the dish of lasagna back to his brother. Slowly, he sits down in front of the place setting meant for him.]
You really just...did this. For me? Without any other motive other than you...wanted to do it?
[Vergil isn't trying to accuse Dante of being otherwise inconsiderate, nor is the question meant to imply Dante never thinks of Vergil. There's a few books on Vergil's bookshelf in his bedroom, and a family portrait that highlight that not being the case in the slightest even if Vergil doubted his brother. But this is a lot of effort. Lasagna is more complicated than it seems on its surface, and Dante could have just as easily used his Lore to summon a premade one that all he had to do with put in the oven and claim he made it himself. He also went to the trouble of finding a wine to match, and setting the table in advance.]
[Which is why he raised the question of what exactly the occasion happens to be whether there's something special that Dante wants to mark, or he has something he needs to tell Vergil and otherwise make up for (beyond the disaster of the kitchen, of course). It is so much effort for no particular reason.]
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He waits for his brother to get himself comfortable β hands clasped behind his back then with blue eyes sparkling with both curiosity and a certain sort of anxiety over whether or not heβll like any of this. He knows the suspicion is there β that heβs probably wondering what led to his wanting to suddenly do this out of the blue, but. He just stands there and waits, smiling like when they were kids and he was waiting for Vergil to give into his wanting to play with him.
Chuckle on his lips, he leans across the table some, bracing himself on a hand as he plucks a knife up and starts to cut into the lasagna there. )
Canβt a guy just wanna do something for his brother and not want something out of it? Weβre not eight anymore.
( Debatable with how they get sometimes, but.
Cutting into the lasagna, tongue sticking out a little with his concentration, he shovels a good sized portion out of the glass dish and plops it down on the plate there in front of Vergil, splashing some of the tomato sauce as he does. A chuckle, he cringes. )
Whoops. Heh.
( With the pad of his thumb, he brushes away the splash of sauce that got him on the cheek and licks it off, making a pleased little noise as he does before he eagerly points to the dish. )
That right there is culinary art.
( Another chuckle, he straightens himself up and stands there, lips pressed together as he anxiously waits⦠for his brother to give it a try. )
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[Picking up his fork, Vergil cuts a bite from the slice that Dante has plated up for him. He purposely takes from a portion of the slice that's in the interior to avoid any...crispier pieces along the edge for now. Truthfully, he could do without the expectant staring. Well, perhaps not staring, but certainly watching. Vergil understands his brother is perhaps a bit anxious and wants the dish to be well-received, but there's a limit to how closely Vergil would prefer he's watched while he eats. Hopefully it's just for this first bite. Vergil blows on it gently before eating it to avoid scalding his mouth and give it an overall fair chance.]
[...To Vergil's further surprise, it's not just not bad, it's competently made and quite good. The layers of meat sauce and cheese harmonize well with the spices Dante's put into it, and the veggies while tender make it a heartier bite than it would be with meat alone. He hums quietly, pleased with what his brother has managed to do, but waits until he's swallowed the bite before offering such direct feedback.]
You did well, Dante. I like it.
[Coming from anyone else, that would probably seems a touch insincere or like they were not particularly enthused. But that's high praise coming from Vergil.]
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Hot damn!
( A punch to the air, he grins β hand up with a few nods. )
Thank you, thank you. Let it be known that I, Dante, son of Sparda, not only slay demons, but slay in the kitchen as well.
( Chuckling and beaming all proudly there, he reaches over for the bottle of wine then and cracks that baby open, pouring his dear brother a rather generous amount there in the glass he has set out for him because, you know, it pairs well and all. Or so he figures. )
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So, what you are saying is you have no excuse next time I ask for your help in the kitchen, [he says as Dante pours the wine. That...is more than Vergil would have poured for himself. But again, he says nothing of it. Even with as little as Vergil tends to drink, it's nothing the demonic metabolism won't be able to quickly burn off before it has any real effect.] Is your plan to just watch me eat, or did you intend on sampling some of your work for yourself?
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( He seems almost flabbergasted that Vergil would think otherwise. Wine bottle set down, he puts a hand on his waist then, chuckling softly. )
You can wrap it up in tin foil and take some with you when you go to do... ( this is where he waves a hand around ) ...you know. Whatever it is you do around here. Have a snack ready on hand! See? Look at that. I'm thinkin' ahead.
( To which he gives his temple a few taps with the tip of his finger. )
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[As much as Vergil's willing to let Dante be proud and excited of his work here, Vergil is not willing to dedicate three square meals a day to lasagna in order to get through a pan of lasagna before it becomes...off. Not that Vergil thinks a food-borne pathogen would really be enough to strike him down, but the taste sure as hell wouldn't be pleasant.]
Besides, if you're giving it to me, does that not mean I decide if I wish to share it or not?
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Well if you want to share with Nero, it's not like I'm gonna stop you.
( Hand falling away, he chuckles, giving Vergil's shoulder a couple pats then. )
I'll help ya get through it, don't worry. It'll make for some good late night munchies.
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At least sit down and stop hovering then if you're not going to eat any now. [It's weird, Dante.] Unless you'd rather start undoing the damage you've done to my kitchen.
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Whattaya mean? That's for you. I cooked, you clean.
( Smiling to his brother, he laughs after a moment, shaking his head and waving a hand. )
Just kidding. I'll take care of it later.
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Just make sure the dishes are clean, and you've wiped down the counters and stovetop.
[He leaves it implied that he'll handle the rest at that point. The lasagna might not be able to spare Dante from Vergil's wrath if the kitchen is still a disaster come morning, but it is at least enough to get him out of having to clean and organize it entirely to Vergil's standards at the very least. As Vergil cuts another bite of lasagna off from his piece, he changes the subject.]
Dare I ask how you've been keeping yourself busy these days aside from exploring the culinary arts?
[Not that he hasn't seen Dante around at all, but he did go from a brief stint of keeping to his room before spending more time outside of the house. Thankfully after his little slip-up not that long ago, he hasn't resumed cooping himself up, but it does mean it's been a while since the sons of Sparda were home at the same time.]
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Seeing what this place has to offer in terms of extracurricular activities.
( Twirling the fork around a couple times, he leans over the table and stabs it in the lasagna, helping himself to a piece which he brings to his mouth with the help of his other hand there beneath it so as not to accidentally drop any. )
You been to the swamps around here? They've got some pretty wild things to dance with there.
( Shoveling the serving in his mouth, he chews happily, dropping himself back down into his seat as he smiles to his brother. )
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I haven't ventured to Exile at all. [He's heard enough tell of it to not want to venture too deep into that region.] But I have heard the swamps are particularly dangerous.
[Vergil is not referring to the creatures that wander the area, however, so much as the mental effect the region appears to have on those who enter.]
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( Waggling his eyebrows, he chuckles then, clearly teasing but also not really because... he's encountered a couple of those in the times he's wandered his way to a particular bog. Nothing he couldn't handle and usually tends to make it out with little to no scratches. Aside from Cruel Summer, Exile really is one of the only other places he's found with a bit more of a challenge to take on when dancing with the creatures there.
Reaching over, he takes another small forkful of lasagna for himself β shovels that baby in as well before he's settling back in his seat once more. )
Keeps me busy, I guess. It's not like back home where I usually get someone comin' to me for somethin' or getting calls on the phone about a job needing to be done. I kind of miss it sometimes.
( He felt he had more of a purpose back home. Here? He's not so sure. )
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[Vergil is not certain if it's particularly surprising to hear Dante acknowledge he misses devil hunting. On the one hand, Dante's never done well with being still. And it's not as though Vergil has somehow allowed for his skills to atrophy since coming to Folkmore. He's sparred with Mizu countless times since nearly the beginning, and while that does not exactly translate to what he needs to defeat a demon, it's been wonderful for honing on his technique if nothing else. ABarring that, on occasion, he found himself in the fighting pits or putting down monsters that may manifest themselves as a result of trials. And now he has the opportunity to train Nero and put his skills to a greater test by sparring with Dante. Vergil does not have a reason to really seek out more than that. Not like Dante seeking out creatures in Exile.]
[On the other and arguably more important hand, Vergil would think the lack of violent responsibilities would come as a bit of a reprieve for Dante after... Well, it's been a few decades, hasn't it? At least since they were eighteen. Maybe longer. Vergil remains on-guard himself even a year later with so few threats, but he would be lying if he said he didn't find some measure of relief in truly knowing there was nothing hunting him for the first time in his life. There's a semblance of peace that comes with it, anyways. He would think Dante would feel the same way, and whatever thrill he might seek from his work would not bear much weight in light of that.]
[He looks at Dante with a furrowed brow, confused as he concludes that no, it actually is surprising to hear Dante say that. He would think this is what Dante has probably always wanted from the beginning: a mundane life without the shadow of their father's legacy looming over him. He gets to be himself.]
...You miss fighting for your life on a regular basis? [He wrinkles his nose again with a shake of his head. As he gets another bite of lasagna, he says,] I would think you would leap at the chance to indulge in other facets of your life that have been neglected because of your duties. After all, you have made it clear you feel strongly that I essentially do as much.
[Vergil's almost certain Dante is going to claim it's different given their circumstances. And maybe it is, but Vergil doesn't think it necessarily means he's wrong to draw a comparison and reach such a conclusion.]
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I said kind of. Itβs a figure of speech. Donβt take it so literal, Verge.
( Itβs just familiar and something heβs grown used to, if even unwillingly, over the years. Routine as they say. Even when heβd followed after his brother to the underworld, he knew there would be demons waiting to try their luck on the sons of Sparda. Foolish on their part, like always, but just another day that ended in y. Only difference was, he had his brother alongside him instead of the others.
It sucks they had to leave Nero behind as they did, but. He knew theyβd figure a way back to the human realm. As if anything or any place could ever really defeat him or his brother. At least Neroβs here now, justβ¦ away from Kyrie, his friends, and the orphans, which he knows is hard for him sometimes. To have the chance to be with your father finally but unable to be with your lady loveβ¦ gotta hurt some days. He knows it does β has seen the kid get gloomy about it. Talk about a double-edged sword.
Licking the sauce off the fork, he shrugs. )
Also, I did leap. After you. Whether or not this place is permanent, youβre here and thatβs all Iβve really wanted.
( To have his brother back. )
If you werenβt, I wouldnβt have got to make you this super amazing lasagna that is probably your favorite dish ever now.
( Teasing some, but. Heβs also quite proud that Vergil likes his dish. )
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[So, in truth, it's been more disquieting for Vergil to have his brother around than not. Which Vergil feels immense guilt over admitting even privately just to himself, but it's the truth. He knows more of how to be a father to Nero than he knows to be a brother to Dante. He has the example of Sparda before him and while not a perfectly clean slate, it's at least not a long of a history as what lies between brothers to give him a starting point with Nero. He has no such equivalent with Dante. Only how they were as children, which Vergil struggles to find applicable considering neither of them are the children they used to be.]
[And maybe that's the problem. Maybe that's why Vergil struggles so much in knowing how to be Dante's brother again. Dante isn't the snot-nosed little brat who could always make Vergil laugh despite his hot, angry tears and self-serious temperament. He isn't that kid who never seemed to worry about consequences, chasing after what was fun without a care in the world. For all the accusations Vergil gives Dante about being immature, he grew up. He changed. Vergil did, too. And yet, they still so often try to treat each other like those little boys that used to beat each other bloody, but would have done anything for his twin. As though no time at all had passed.]
[Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. They get stuck when it doesn't, and both seem to lack ideas of how to recover from it. Vergil can't and won't speak for Dante, but he knows he walks away from it disheartened when that happens. Even when it feels earned because of the choices Vergil made or Vergil can recognize Dante isn't the child he used to be and someone he still has so much work to do in getting to know again...]
[Dante tells Vergil time and time again not to worry and claims to have it all under control, and probably thinks he's doing Vergil a kindness in doing as much. In his mind, he likely thinks that he's somehow freeing Vergil up from worry and responsibilities that could somehow distract from what he needs or wants. But the reality is that Vergl feels brushed aside. And that's the rub. Dante says he needs Vergil, wants him around, but it feels like every time there's that possibility to be let in? Dante pushes back. Not usually in any sort of anger, and certainly not with hostility even when Vergil does push a button, but... He pushes back all the same, and Vergil finds himself at a loss with what to do. Sometimes he gets in his head, wondering if he did something wrong. Other times, he stews in a mild amount of frustration of wanting Dante to let him be his big brother again in ways that matter and count to them now and not the past.]
[A question rests at the tip of his tongue, but Vergil recognizes it as selfish, which means it has a greater capacity to be hurtful. So, he doesn't ask Dante if he has any regrets about following him into the Underworld, into Folkmore. Looking for such reassurance seems childish anyways, and what sort of foolish question is that in the first place? Of course Dante would have regrets. Maybe not enough to make him choose other than as he did, but there were things about home he must miss beyond his work.]
You would have enjoyed aspects of the false reality the Fox attempted to deceive me with then.
[Eva never died, brothers were never separated, and Nero grew up with his parents, his family. Sparda was still gone within the illusion, but maybe the Fox felt it would have been too obvious a lie to have given Vergil that much. It perhaps would have seemed too ideal to be tempted by it in that circumstance, but Eva's mere presence was ultimately enough for Vergil to mistrust it.]
I suspect because both of you are here in Folkmore that you and Nero were away in the illusion, but from all that I could observe before Mizu and I were able to leave, we had never been separated from one another. [He sets his fork down, the piece of meat ultimately untouched.] She seemed to believe such ideals could lead me astray if left to implication, but I have the both of you here now and that will not change even once we leave this place.
I have little need for a pretty lie in comparison.
[He glances at Dante then, drawing a breath and releasing it.]
Although I will not pretend I felt nothing upon seeing her again.
[He doesn't bother clarifying that it was their mother. He trusts Dante can put that together for himself.]
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Yeah. I miss her, too.
( He always had and always all. Just as he had with Vergil before he came back as he did. Honestly probably a good thing he didnβt end up on some train ride because heβd find it more insulting to puppet some fake version of his mother than something heβs wish was true. Then again, heβs had years and years to grieve and mourn her, though it doesnβt diminish how he still misses her. )
I still get nightmares of that. Even at this age. Kind of dumb, huh? Youβd think thatβd pass with time.
( Theyβre never as bad or as frequent as the first decade or so after it happened, but. Theyβre still enough to jolt him awake suddenly β sometimes to the point where heβs not sure where he is the first few seconds upon waking, but. He still gets them. Different pieces and versions of them, and he hates them every time.
Napkin all twisted up there in his fork, he pulls it away and smiles a little up to Vergil then. )
Sheβd be proud of you, you know. How far youβve come. I know you might balk at the thought of that because of the past and all, but. You overcame it all in the end and I think she always knew you would.
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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.]
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I mean... she is to me. I carry her with me. In my heart. I carried you, too.
( Until he had him back in his life again. He still does, just. It's different now. Since he's here. A different sort of carrying him within his heart. Then, perhaps a little more softly and almost shyly, the words to leave him are ones with a sadness to them. )
And dad.
( With the pad of his thumb, he presses at the corner of his eye β stops the tear there β and stands then, blowing out a dramatic sigh as he rolls his shoulders and swings his arms, fork dropped to the napkin. )
You really like it? ( He stares to him almost a little sheepishly. ) You know it's my first time making that, right?
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[He looks back down to his plate again, expression slightly pinched as he holds back the swell of emotion that Dante dances away from in his own way.]
[Oh, Vergil is angry and remains so when it comes to using their mother as she had been during the trial. But he misses her. He misses her, and he misses their father. And he hates that there is still yet this foolish, childish wish that somehow their family could have somehow come out of everything unscathed. Vergil draws a breath though because it is as he said to Trish. He has no desire to dwell in the past, to hopelessly wish for things that cannot be. Their parents are dead, and they are not the children they once were. The only thing there is now is what's directly in front of Vergil, and that's where he'd prefer to put his energy.]
[Vergil smiles faintly at Dante.]
I wouldn't be able to tell it was your first time making it. [Vergil taps a bit of the burnt edge on his piece as with the prongs of his fork and lightly teases,] Maybe a little less time in the oven and try to wear less of it next time, but you did well, little brother.
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Nod of his head, he plants his hands on his waist and smiles. Pleased. With the outcome of his cooking and the fact that Vergil seems to like it. Maybe it's not his most favorite thing ever, but. It's enough to put a smile on the youngest son of Sparda's face and that's really all he was going for anyways with all this.
With that, he slips himself away from the chair and goes about loading up the sink with the dirty dishes from his creation. )
I'm thinkin' quiche next time. Yanno. When I get in the mood to rock out in the kitchen. You ever had that?
( Who's to say when that will be, but. There might very well be an encore of this performance sometime in the future. Date to be determined, naturally. )
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