"Despite the fact Kai crushes every flowercrown a spirit in Willow tries to place on her, the farmer she first stayed with, before I built the stable, said she is welcome to return come summer should the habitat in Wintermute offend her sensibilities, what with it being snow trodden year round," Mizu finishes explaining. She's only spoken at length about the stable she built with the help of golems, the hay and blankets needed to keep Kai warm in Wintermute, and the long discussion of how the year round winter of Wintermute (its summer meaning more light and fewer blizzards not withstanding) may be less tolerable to her horse than it is to Kai. It will be the mare's decision whether or not to spend the entire year in Wintermute. Everyone has to respect that.
Mizu serves herself yet again with hardly any prompting, a third serving, because she's truly famished and the food is too good to pass up. It's better than she needs and more, too. Of late, Mizu's eaten far more like she did on the road when short on coin, making each one stretch a long ways. Her days are busy and full. Sometimes she does not even make it to the library, all the more grateful for the way she's shifted to using the library for its purpose (borrowing books) to study them at home, whether that's her own or Vergil's. That some nights she falls asleep with the book in her lap is no matter. Kai is with her again, not only in Folkmore but in her own stable near Mizu's home, not in far off Willow (where the farmer's far more open to accepting Kai when Mizu wears a flower crown, an exception only being granted to the horse).
"It may mean more time spent in motion, going here and there," Mizu admits, "but a horse's needs cannot be overlooked. I'd gladly make the trek to Willow every day, as I did in the first days since Kai showed up on my doorstep."
Her lips curl up into a smile, and Mizu looks at Vergil. It was his doing, she's sure of it.
At this point in the meal, Vergil is more or less moving things around his plate rather than eating. His overall eating habits have not changed since Kai's arrival, but there have been some subtle changes when he takes his meals with Mizu. When they eat elsewhere, he's more insistent that it be his treat to allow Mizu to order whatever she'd like and to eat to her fill. They still eat at his home and with his family, but leftovers are a rarer occurrence with the bottomless pits he calls his brother and son than they are when it's just the two of them. So, he's arranged for more meals at her place lately on the off-chance there is something to leave behind, and he makes sure the meals are something that requires little effort beyond reheating to eat later. (Assuming, of course, Mizu is taking the time to reheat them in the first place. Vergil would not be surprised if she deemed it a waste of time and just ate whatever food straight out of the fridge.) He also eats a bit slower with her, too. Not that he thinks there's much of a chance for Mizu to be concerned that he's done and waiting for her to be as well, but it is hardly any great sacrifice on his part even if she's immune to feeling self-conscious over it. Hence why even once he's had his fill, he pretends to still be eating.
But that is the only part he is pretending to be doing. When it comes to listening to her, Vergil's attention is focused on her. He's quiet and does not interrupt. Sometimes Mizu will talk herself in a small circle, repeating a piece of information until something new is attached to it. He doesn't mind, however. It's rare to see Mizu so passionate in this way, so lacking in self-consciousness that words spill out easily and she never seems to realize it. She doesn't seem to concern herself with how clearly she's communicating or not, and just seems to implicitly trust he's keeping up. If that's even a concern of hers. Because frankly, Vergil doesn't fault her if it's not and she is merely seeking out a release for her excitement. It's good to see her this way, and feels better knowing he had at least a small hand in making it happen in the first place. So, he speaks when she goes looking for his input or there's an otherwise appropriate lull, but he does not change the subject or unkindly point out that she's told him about the blankets and their fabrics three times this week alone. Frankly, Vergil is more than content to simply listen with a faint smile on his lips if that's all she really needs from him.
"I'm sure it is of little concern to her what the weather is like," Vergil says. A beast willing to go toe-to-toe with a half-devil in a battle of wills is not likely to wilt over the constant presence of snow, but Vergil keeps that part to himself. For as knowing as Mizu's smile is, Vergil does not acknowledge it at all, and maintains the ruse of ignorance as to how the mare came to be in Folkmore. Mizu could be forgiven for assuming it to be a bit of a playful joke between them or even a clumsy attempt at humility, but it is actually quite sincere. He thinks by saying nothing, providing no hint or clue will keep it a mystery, and ultimately negate the importance of the question, which is thoroughly aligned with his intent. After all, if he wanted recognition, he could have sought it several different ways even in just the presentation of the horse alone. All Vergil wants, however, is for Mizu to be happy. For Kai to belong to her and only her as it should have been with no danger of someone taking her away again. She deserves that. So, Kai is not a gift given to her. She is something, someone returned to her. Vergil merely facilitated it happening. That's all and not important.
So, instead of the real reason he knows Kai is not likely one to care about the year-round snow and cold, he says, "Not when you have her living in the lap of luxury and quite possibly turning her into the most spoiled creature in this realm."
The pause, taken, gets filled with food. When they eat together, the food communal between the two of them, Mizu eats her fill and trusts Vergil to do the same. He often makes more food than either of them can eat, such that one or both of them have another meal in waiting once they are done. Such an excess in food means there's no reason to hold back. Vergil may have lacked the opportunity to cook and to eat such good food in the demon realm, but he makes up for it in Folkmore. Honestly, he's a better cook than Mizu would expect given his life history. He's needed to provide for himself, yes, the same as Mizu, but she's the one who spent a period of time expected to prepare all the meals and feed another. That hasn't happened in Folkmore since their time in Amrita Academy, where it was hunted game unseasoned and basic fare. Mizu can keep a man alive, but Vergil can cook.
Kai is a hardy horse, one used to the mountains and the winters there. She was wild, once living on her own under all conditions. She's her own creature, and no doubt her opinion on the matter will become clear. If not this summer, so shortly after her arrival, perhaps the next. Even should Mizu leave, when Mizu leaves, Kai deserves a life of her own choosing, not one depending on the whims of a lord who sees her only as one of many. A lord who hasn't earned her respect yet dictates her life. Unnatural.
"It is no less than she deserves," Mizu says, clucking her tongue. "No less than she had before, when we were first together. It is simply a matter that my home was not built to care for horses, the way Mikio's was long before I came there. I shared in all the chores we had and cared for Kai myself then, but I did not fully appreciate all the work that made such labor light enough we could care for a whole herd of horses. Not that I have any need or interest in having a herd of horses here. I need some time remaining for research—
"And time with certain individuals." Vergil, most of all. As much as Kai has taken up her time, Mizu continues to make as much time for Vergil as she had before. It means less time making swords. Less time at the library. Less time on other matters, but not Vergil. Like Kai, he is precious and will too slip through her fingers when she must leave.
Mizu sips her tea, only a second soaking of the leaves, and enjoys it. It tastes far more of tea than the weakened stuff that had lasted a week before. Though honestly she'd drag the leaves out even longer if Vergil came over less frequently.
"Try not to say that too loudly in her presence, please. I could do without an equine assassin," he says with a light, teasing smile. When Mizu sets her tea down, Vergil reaches for her free hand to hold on the table in the space between them. Because despite the tease, he knows there's really not competition to speak of, and he does not have any particular worry that his time with Mizu should be cut shorter than either of them desire. There's also something...pleasing about it, anyways. That she mentions research first, but so soon after time with others. Time that he knows is meant for him. Even if there was an inkling of jealousy, he would be hard-pressed to be so upon hearing such a blatant affirmation of his importance to her.
"You seem to be enjoying the work regardless of the demand upon your time."
Not that Mizu was treating it as some great secret, but it is still something worth noting all the same.
"I wouldn't know if she gave you a bruise. They fade too quickly, but she likes you better than Mikio," Mizu comments. Even once she tamed Kai (an odd term that doesn't feel right), Kai never took to Mikio. She and Mizu recognized each other, respected each other. They still do. Taking care of Kai and providing for her is part of showing that respect. "As long as you don't taunt her that you can run faster than her, you should be fine."
Vergil doesn't know much about horses. Mizu didn't either before her marriage. Yet he respects Kai for who she is and never complains when Mizu needs to finish doing something in the stables before they can spend time together. Nor does he complain about Mizu dragging him into riding horses for the sheer joy of it. So many moments her heart feels lighter since Kai arrived. Since Vergil brought Kai here. It is in the fox spirit's nature to allow it but not to provide it unprompted. He didn't give her a horse. He allowed her part of her life back that Mizu thought gone for good. It never occurred to her to summon Kai, the horse she lost. The horse she has back. It will not be possible in Japan. Mizu cannot simply demand her horse back from a lord. Here, however, it's good.
"It wasn't a bad life, while it was good. Taking care of horses," Mizu says. "I never delivered them to his lord, never dealt with anyone. I wouldn't want to. Mikio couldn't choose his customers the way Master Eiji does. The work is good. The business is not."
Horses are expensive, so Mizu never had one after Kai. She walked. On occasion she took a boat or rode a horse, but those were exceptions when they were necessary. Even in Folkmore, it takes a lot. Mizu socializes more because of it. On Kai's behalf. There are simply too few Star Children and spirits in need of swords for that to sustain her. Time with Vergil isn't transactional like that. She'd do it, even if it didn't give her a lick of Lore.
To her comment about Mikio, Vergil is not surprised by does not say as much. Not that he believes Mikio provided the mare with substandard care. Herd animals are easier to maintain if they are provided with equal treatment, and that perspective alone was likely enough to ensure she was well cared for while she remained with him. But there may be something to this horse in her ability to judge character from all that Vergil knows of Mizu's late husband if she still had a low tolerance for him, but was willing for Mizu.
"Perhaps that's part of why Kai took to you, but not to him," he says. "She knew you cared for her, not what she would do for you."
Much in the way that Mikio never really mistreated Mizu. Until the end, he kept to his word of keeping her safe from the outside world in exchange for her contributions to the household. It was only when she stepped out of line, bruised his fragile ego that he demonstrated cruelty towards Mizu and her surrogate mother. For as little as Vergil knows of horses, he can tell Kai is of good stock. She's visibly strong and maintains an elegant form even if only for Mizu. She would be akin to a jewel amongst mere coins likely compared to the rest of the herd. Perhaps that's why Mikio gifted her to Mizu, Vergil thinks. It was not just out of respect for the bond Mizu made with the mare, but he saw it as sacrificing something for her. To say the bond they were developing meant something to him. But then Mizu did not serve the correct purpose when she so thoroughly defeated him in swordplay, and she lost her value. Kai had not.
Vergil chooses not to dwell on his cruel decisions any further.
"But I suppose when you've chosen to make it your business and you reek of horse most days, I imagine you just have to be grateful for whoever is willing to tolerate it to do business. How fortunate it is for you that I am willing to tolerate it for your sake alone and without expectation you are going to sell something to me." He's teasing her lightly, again. He does not mind the change to her scent since Kai's arrival all that much beyond a mild lack of recognition at first. It is no more overbearing or particularly unpleasant to him than the scents left upon her by work in the forge. Its only crime for a time was being novel, but he now expects the scent of straw and Kai to linger upon her just as earth and heat and metal normally do, and it would seem odd without them. More seriously, he says, "I agree that the business would not likely suit you, but the work certainly does. Or at the very least, you are quite good at charming creatures that so often refuse and tolerate little when it comes to the company of others."
"That's true," Mizu agrees. She remembers how Mikio spoke about Kai from the beginning. He wanted to find and train the perfect horse for his lord in the belief that doing so could regain him his honor. Mizu doesn't know whether Mikio received his title back in return for Kai or whether he would have. She doesn't care. He was a coward who abandoned his wife to face multiple enemies who meant to kill her. He left her to die and crawled back begging for forgiveness only after they were dead. He had no honor. Honor is trash, but Mikio valued it and failed to live up to it on the most basic level. Kai could not give him his honor back when he had none.
Mizu lifts a shoulder, not releasing Vergil's hand where he's grasped it, to sniff at her armpit. It smells faintly of hay and horse, but she smells remarkably clean by her standards. Bathing in Folkmore comes easily. She can soak in her own home, indoors, without risk of discovery. It's luxurious, the way only lords would bathe in Japan. That means she bathes more frequently, for the pleasure of it after a long day of physical labor. Some new soap or other bathing item appeared at her bath without warning, but Mizu's avoided it because unlike Kai, it's not the sort of gift Vergil would simply leave around for her. In all likelihood, it does something when used. Mizu'd rather not experience one of the fox spirit's pranks or trials while naked.
The work suits her. It's an idea that gives Mizu pause. She trained to make swords. She trained herself for revenge and set herself on that path. She stepped aside, stumbled, for a short time but returned to it. The work, the work she learned to do helping Mikio, doesn't on first glance help her revenge, yet everything helps the pursuit of one's art. Swordfather taught her that. How does taking care of Kai help her on her course of revenge? On the simplest level, she has that answer when it comes to Vergil. Sparring with him makes her a better swordsman, no matter that her fathers will be unable to do what he can with a sword. It increases the odds she'll succeed, she'll live. Kai? Perhaps should she need to travel by horse, should her fathers not be in London proper but the countryside like Vergil's estate in that memory world on the train, her experience with Kai will help her. Yet she cares for Kai because she's Kai. Kai may very well make it take longer for Mizu to accomplish her revenge, to be ready to return home, because of her many needs and because going home means never seeing Kai again either. It is goodbye to both Vergil and Kai, no matter that Kai is from her world, her time and place. Mizu may be falling for the fox spirit's tricks, the way things always grow complicated and difficult once one plays with that danger. Mizu doesn't regret that, and that may be what happens to people in those stories.
"I lack charm, but I am one of those creatures myself," Mizu says, somewhat teasing herself, somewhat serious. "We recognize and respect each other. I reached out, but the decision was entirely hers. I would have respected a no."
It sounds not so different from how Mizu and Vergil became close. Though with Rin, perhaps, Mizu was more like Kai than the other way around. Rin's gone and hopefully building the life she wants back home. Her future is there, not in Folkmore. Folkmore isn't forever. It's only a place for now, for a short period. Not for life. "Though if the stink must be tolerated with great effort, we could move to the bath. I'm nearly done with dinner."
Vergil wrinkles his nose slightly as Mizu goes about sniffing her own armpit at the dinner table, but he does not offer any particular admonishment for the behavior all the same. For one, she's not a child, and for another, Vergil doubts very much it would do anything to dissuade her from it in the future. It is with a quiet, soft sigh that he shakes his head. And there is no particular protest either when she says she lacks charm shortly thereafter, although he does still somewhat disagree. She lacks a traditional charm, one that follows manners and etiquette, but that does not mean she's truly without any charm whatsoever.
"How merciful of you," he says with a quiet, amused huff. "Either way, if you're nearly done, I'll set to cleaning up while you finish."
Vergil rises to his feet, but does not yet release Mizu's hand.
"Try to taste and savor it, won't you? I didn't work hard making it for you to just inhale it," he says, his free hand turning her face towards him as he bends down to press a kiss to her lips all the same. "How you don't give yourself a stomachache constantly is beyond me."
And yet, despite the mild scolding for how quickly she eats, he still provides Mizu another kiss with a smile on his lips, his thumb gently stroking her opposite cheek. Giving her hand a light squeeze before letting go, he breaks the kiss and straightens back out to clear both his place setting and the remainder of the meal from the table. By his estimation, there's enough left for one or two more meals depending on how Mizu opts to make it stretch. Knowing her recent patterns, it will probably err on the side of two rather than one. Vergil hopes soon a bit of an equilibrium will be naturally achieved now that Kai is more or less settled, and it's that same hope that keeps him from essentially staging an intervention.
While Mizu notices Vergil's reaction, she doesn't think much of it. He's no prim princess when it comes to cleansliness, not after his description of the demon realm and what he did to survive there. He keeps himself clean in Folkmore, cleaner than Mizu can do the same back in Japan. She too is cleaner here, with the privacy afforded by the bath and life not spent on the road. It's a luxurious life, for all the work she does. It's even easier now she doesn't spend weeks healing after each of their bouts.
Her chopsticks move to shovel the rest of her food in her mouth. Vergil's been barely eating at his plate for some time now. He's waited on her eating long enough—
Mizu blinks, her hand pausing as she processes the request. She barely kisses him back the first time, better reacting the second. She laughs a little. "It'd take far more to give me a stomach ache. Perhaps a sword to the gut."
It started when she was young, on the street. Food was there when it was there, and people would chase her off if they saw her. So it was scooped up with her hands, gone in seconds. Food was reliable with Master Eiji, a blessing she never took for granted, but it also wasn't good. It gave them energy to make swords. It didn't need to do anything else, like taste appetizing. Traveling, it was still best whenever in a town to eat her food quickly and be on her way. She attracted negative attention often enough she wouldn't always get to finish the meals she paid for if she took her time. It's hard to slow down, but Mizu takes smaller bites and chews. It tastes far better than anything she's made.
Still, it's only food, and Mizu doesn't need that long to eat it. That may say something, given it's her third serving, three times as much as she generally eats as a meal these days, but she's warm and full with it. She gives a pleasant sigh at the feeling and stands to clear her plate. She sets it on the counter and slides it across, leaning herself but giving Vergil all the room he may need in the kitchen. He doesn't have to clean up after her. She's fine cleaning in her own place, especially since he cooked. Yet she doesn't insist. She appreciates having one less chore to do.
"Your smell's changed a little since Dante and Nero showed up," Mizu comments. "Subtly, but it's there. You smell like family."
Once the leftovers are tucked away in the fridge, Vergil sets to cleaning the dishes. There isn't much already in the sink still in need of washing given that Vergil cleaned as he cooked. He's more or less ready for her dishes once she finishes and brings them over. Vergil doesn't mind that Mizu makes no offer to at least clean her own dishes because even over a year later, it still feels a bit odd to be doing things like dishes and laundry and preparing meals. They're domestic things that haven't been featured all that often in his life. But he would be lying if he said he didn't derive a little pleasure in doing them here in Folkmore, especially when they are things he can do for the ones he loves.
"Pizza grease and motor oil? You should have said something sooner," he says dryly enough that to anyone else's ear, it would probably sound like he was taking the opportunity to insult his brother and son or otherwise be dismissive of what she said. But Mizu knows the importance of Vergil's family to him and she's learned the subtle tells by his tone to know it's not a genuine refutation.
Vergil knows that he's changed since Dante and Nero arrived. He's still quiet and reserved, preferring the company of his books to others. He also has not abandoned his pride or skill as a warrior, nor has his temper dissipated. But there's also something...a little softer within him these days, and Vergil finds himself being braver in ways that he never could be when he was younger. Frankly... Well, there's really no other way of putting it than he's more human than he's been in a very long time. It's terrifying at times, and he does not always handle it with the greatest amount of grace or the least amount of doubt and insecurity, but it's sincere and just because it's difficult doesn't mean he's any less dedicated to it.
But he also knows it's not just because of his kin alone that these changes have come about. They are a large, primary factor, but that does not make Mizu's contributions any less important. She knows of his mistakes and the blood and consequences that came because of his decisions. Mizu does not and cannot offer absolution for his wrongdoings, but neither does she hold them against him. Whatever she may think of the uglier, more broken parts of him, she accepts them. Oftentimes, she accepts them better than he does even as Vergil's found ways to make peace with parts of his past. So, it's not a case of one or the other. Mizu and his family both make him better. Or, at the very least, they both push him to strive for better.
"I could only determine the former once Nero took me for pizza. Those pockets do not smell like anything," Mizu notes lightly. Pizza, even tomato sauce, was new to Mizu. She's still only had it a few times. She went back to the place Nero took her once since he threatened her should she hurt Vergil. That pizza is good, and she's often in Epiphany. Had Nero taken her to Tides, she wouldn't have returned. It isn't that good.
The smells themselves are neither good nor bad on their own. They don't bother Mizu or put her off. What she likes, what she appreciates, are what they mean for Vergil. He has his family in Folkmore, his whole reason for coming here. He can take his time here and simply enjoy a life with them. In time, he can find a way back to it in his world. After the time they're having together here, Mizu doubts anyone could keep Vergil from his son. They couldn't before either. Not someone willing to follow a fox spirit on the chance it will lead him there. He might not be looking into that right now, spending time with his family and with Mizu. It's why she's certain she'll leave first. Mizu cannot achieve her revenge in Folkmore. Even if one or more of her fathers showed up, killing them would do little good. They'd return like weeds, not removed at the root. So she will need to leave, while Vergil has what he wants here and now. And Mizu—
Mizu wants more and more, the longer she stays. It's dangerous, that longing.
"We can wash up, but we'll both smell the same in a day or two," Mizu says. That hardly negates the joy of washing or the luxury of hot water filling the bath like a natural hot spring. She appreciates cold soaks too, even enjoys them more sometimes. The ocean is a place of calm within her. "Only with more relaxed muscles."
Vergil had been surprised to learn that Nero opted to take Mizu out for pizza. Not to say that there had been any continued tensions between the two of them that would lead Vergil to believe they were best not left alone. On the contrary. Despite the fact Mizu did not heed Vergil's warning before sparring with Nero, the pair seemed to be doing well enough with each other. Not enough to say there was a friendship necessarily as Nero was quite clear there were aspects of Mizu he found to be...off-putting, if Vergil were to be generous, but certainly enough to consider them not on poor terms.
So, he wouldn't have exactly thought anything unusual if Nero had simply kept her company or let Mizu be entirely until Vergil's return. Despite how rough Nero's language may be, he is still exceedingly polite when he wishes to be, and it seems to be within his practice to remain so unless someone provides him with reason to be otherwise. Especially seeing as how by then, Nero knew the truth of their relationship. That they are...dating. (It still seems a strange thing to say for Vergil, but that's more a by-product of avoiding a label for so long than any reflection of their relationship.) Nero seemed quite nonplussed by the information, but generally supportive nonetheless. So, the polite nature of their relationship continuing seemed more likely than more intentional time spent together. Thus, Vergil's surprise that Nero suggested they go out for pizza. However, despite curiosity about the outing, Vergil chose not to pry for details from Mizu or Nero. Neither said much about it beyond Nero did giving Vergil a bit of playful grief along the lines of "you snooze, you lose," and so Vergil simply trusted it went well. There's certainly been nothing amiss since between the two of them that would suggest otherwise even if there has been no repeat since to his knowledge. Regardless, Vergil has chosen that unless either one of them explicitly requests his intervention, he shall let it be between them.
"Perhaps," he says, setting aside the last of the dishes to dry before rinsing down any remaining suds in the sink. "But I think more importantly when the scents of the bath fade, it's my scent that's on you first."
Whether that's because Vergil is with her and close to her or she's helped herself to his clothing, he's confident that his scent is the first. Perhaps that's why Kai does not mind him nearly as much, he thinks faintly. She's come to associate his scent with Mizu enough that she contemplates kicking him rather than immediately deciding it as the only choice. It's as good a theory as any, but it's not really the point. Sink and hands clean, he steps over to where Mizu is leaning against the counter and places his hands on either side of her, resting his forehead against hers in a gentle nuzzle. Vergil likes the little marks he leaves upon her regardless of whether they are marks of his passion and desire or his scent alone. Mizu is his and allows for those to remain on her skin because she chooses to give herself to him. It remains a pleasing thrill to him even beyond their more intimate acts with one another because he's proven himself to be worthy of it, safe enough for that sort of vulnerability from one just as guarded as he also tends to be.
So rarely in Mizu's life has she smelled like someone else. No doubt she and Master Eiji smelled similarly while living together. The same could probably be said for her and Mikio. Yet not even with her husband was there as much cuddling, as much mingling of their scents. She started wearing Vergil's clothes because she missed the smell of him, the sense of him being there with her. It's different but similar to reminding herself with the bruises she doesn't erase, those that comes from their time being intimate instead of sparring. She enjoys them, and she enjoys Vergil's reaction to them, so that what started as a whim becomes a conscious choice. Each one is kept, and she keeps his scent on her as long as she can, mildly bothered when his scent is gone from his clothes. He has to wear them again, so they smell right. It's a comfort and, yes, exciting to be wanted that much.
Mizu rests her head against his and her hands on Vergil's waist. Her instinct is to draw these moments out, but the truth of the matter is that they will come. More will come. Mizu can trust they will come. So she doesn't slide her arms around behind him to hold Vergil close.
"We are due for a bath then," Mizu teases, "I can't smell you on me over Kai, and Kai doesn't appreciate me smelling like her the way you do." Oh she smells a little of Vergil, from spending time tonight, but she makes the unnecessary excuse, the teasing. She kisses him, without a push for more and no hurry to move along. She rubs his sides, comfortable and full and perhaps a bit stinky but unbothered by it.
When Mizu tilts her lips close to his for the kiss, Vergil returns it. It's sweet and chaste, and the only point of contact he seeks out for now with his hands still on either side of her on the counter even as she feels at his sides over his clothes. Just as she does not push for more, neither does he. It's only ever in private that Vergil is this free with his affection, but he does not feel the particular need to be overbearing about it. These little gestures are just as important and enough on their own as compared to the bigger ones.
"Well then, if she lacks that much sense, it sounds as though she may be more foolish than the one who looks after her," he says with a teasing smile against her lips before kissing her again. Vergil moves one of his hands from the counter to along Mizu's forearm, tracing down along to her wrist and hand. "Her loss. My gain."
Intertwining their fingers together, Vergil presses a kiss to Mizu's hairline before stepping back. His other hand follows a similar path along Mizu's other arm, but does not end in holding her hand so much as gently disentangling them from one another. By the hand he's holding, Vergil leads her the few paces to her stairs, guiding her to walk ahead of him once they reach the base of them. He's long-since been allowed into the upstairs of Mizu's cabin without needing some form of explicit permission from her. There's nothing really remarkable up there as far as the bedroom or bathroom are concerned, and nothing about Mizu in those spaces would somehow shock or scandalize him either. Simply put, the upstairs to her cabin hardly feels even remotely forbidden to him as it had in the beginning of their time together. But despite there now being this implicit standing invitation to share in the space, Vergil respects the whole of it as hers still. Thus, every now and again, he does little things like this because he knows most are not privy to any of it let alone as much as Vergil tends to be.
Mizu laughs, yet she cannot imagine Kai being possessive. Not with her free spirit. They choose each other, but they remain proud independent creatures. Kai no more owns her than Mizu owns Kai. It's an independence not at odds with Vergil's possessiveness and Mizu's feelings toward it. Only a different relationship between two individuals. Mizu squeezes his hand and leads the way up the stairs, appreciative as ever for the luxuriously generous housing she's found for herself in Wintermute. As few visitors as she gets, Mizu appreciates the additional privacy of her bedroom taking longer to reach, out of sight of the front door. A space to be herself without worry and only with someone she's invited to it.
The stairs turn halfway up, another measure of privacy, and Mizu walks up without a hurry. Once in her room, she squeezes Vergil's hand before releasing it and takes the time to start the water. It is a large space to fill, hot and steaming, before returning to her room to remove her clothes. She wears the same outfit she always wears, when she wears her own clothes, and removing it piece by piece. After a moment's thought, Mizu sets them aside for the wash, rather than hanging them back in her closet. The greatest relief comes when she unbinds her chest, a small sigh. It's easier to breath, and Mizu stretches, enjoying the freedom of movement.
"We have a little time til it's ready," Mizu comments. Amazed as ever at baths that come without lugging water back and forth. It takes no more effort than turning the tap and a little waiting. She pulls her hair down, and it falls far down her back. "You know, unless I'm going out, I usually put your clothes on first after a bath."
While Mizu steps away to begin filling the tub, Vergil begins to strip his layers. When she returns and begins to remove her own clothes, he watches her. Vergil's gaze is one of admiration and appreciation rather than one of desire in this moment. It's not a rare sight for Vergil to see, but he's still captivated all the same because it's like this that Mizu has shed everything that is not her. The expectations of others that she must always answer to bears no further weight on her. She simply is, and breathes easier for it in not just the literal sense of the phrase. Her skin is not without blemishes—there are scars from old wounds and marks still fading from the last time they made love—and she seems a contradiction with such soft curves alongside hard lines of muscle, but she is nothing short of exceptional and perfect in Vergil's eyes. He makes no secret of that thought either as he looks at her.
"You're still welcome to them," he says, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, right over one of his faded marks. It used to be just one set of clothes Vergil left behind, but he's left more with Mizu since learning of her little habit in his absence to allow her to indulge in it as much as she likes. Or, in this case, allow her to indulge without leaving him without anything to wear. Vergil runs a hand through her hair, pulling some strands forward as he does, idly noting just how long it's grown. His other hand rests at her hip, thumb lightly stroking at warm skin. Vergil wants for nothing right now, his contentment plain in his expression.
Sometimes, less frequently now, Mizu expects to find a different body when Vergil looks at her like that. He looks at her the way no one else has—beautiful, wanted, loved. Her body is soft and slight for a man's, long and barely curved for a woman's. Her eyes— he likes her eyes best, has complimented them from the earliest days. What most marks her, in her world, as hideous, and he finds them attractive. Strange but welcome. While Mizu cannot understand why, she accepts Vergil finds her that way. It's present so much of the time, with and without passion, so that it saturates the space. Her bedroom is the main place she's naked. His bedroom door isn't enough privacy to strip, not with his family living with him.
Her head leans to one side as he kisses her. The skin's barely bruised any longer, and Mizu'd welcome him darkening it again if Vergil were so inclined. She traces a couple places on his skin, all perfectly clear, where she left the briefest of marks herself. Mizu has to pull back and observe them then and there if she wants to see them at all. They're gone so quickly. It is fine, part of reality. She has his clothes, if not her marks on his skin. "Then when you leave, you can wear the clothes that no longer smell like you. I've worn them out."
Mizu stays close and leans against him. "Or I can get your smell from you directly. As well."
As Mizu leans against him, Vergil's hand at her hip moves to the small of her back. It's enough to keep her close—welcoming and inviting the weight she presses onto him—but not enough to restrict her movement or prevent either of them from moving for the bath once it's ready.
"I would think either would be satisfactory for the intended purpose," he says, continuing to idly play with the loose strands of her hair. Vergil understands why she wears her hair the way she does, but he cannot help wondering what she would look like with other styles applied to it. He's certain she would look just as handsome and beautiful, but it would be a curious sight to see after so long of the same way of wearing it day in and day out. It's something that will remain in his imagination, however. Assuming she were at least amenable to wearing something different in the privacy of her room, the sum total of hairstyles known between them that would differ is likely exactly zero.
But it is no matter. He's already spoiled each time her hair is released and left for him to pet and play with. Vergil doesn't know if she likes or particularly prefers the sensation of it, but she has yet to complain when he runs his fingers through it. At the very least, she's understanding that he enjoys the act as a means of affection to her, and indulgence in something few people can likely claim to have experienced for themselves.
"Of course," he continues, "I believe one affords a bit more enjoyment for you than the other. And you could not be faulted for indulgences with as hard as you've been working lately."
So far as being reminded of Vergil when he's gone, yes, his clothes or the man himself will do. Yet the same way that Vergil always finds ways to touch Mizu when they're in private, whether they sit shoulder to shoulder, hold hands, trace each other's skin, or even like now feel how long her hair is, Mizu wants those connections. She runs her fingers along his spine, feeling the point at which his tail, his second spine, comes out when he so chooses. She welcomes him in whatever form he wishes, though admittedly a full transformation is more difficult to cuddle safely. That's no matter. She'd no more disentangle herself from him with an exoskeleton than the softer overlay of muscles over bone.
Enjoyment, as Vergil puts it. Indulgences. Oh, Mizu indulges herself with Vergil all the time, all the time they do anything besides spar. That initial reason for meeting that extended to Vergil taking care of her afterward to ensure she didn't collapse until that stretched out. Now, they spend more time not sparring than sparring, despite her ability to heal her wounds to be ready to go the next day. "You enjoy it as much as I do, as much more than me merely wearing your clothes," Mizu tells Vergil, "While I'm here, I'll indulge as much as I like."
Not that Mizu's entirely sure what that amount would be, were there not the matter of Vergil spending time with Dante and Nero. Their time together at Amrita was forced upon them by limited resources, yet with some time apart during the day, Mizu didn't feel suffocated. She misses Vergil the nights they sleep apart, and it's one reason she spends the night sometimes at his place. All they do is read and cuddle and nothing that would keep his brother and son away, save for their imaginations. Mizu appreciates having her space, that this cabin is hers that she welcomes him into, yet how much more would she welcome him in? They've found a balance that works, and Mizu appreciates it for what it is. After all, she has plenty of work to do when he's not here and falls asleep without trouble.
"How long do you smell me on you when we part?" Mizu asks. It might last longer, with a better sense of smell, but she doesn't know him to have the same habits she's picked up. Not that she's needed to leave a spare set of clothes at his home. She could.
"It is not usually a prominent scent when we see one other again, but I'm never away from you long enough to lose it completely," he says, confirming her speculation about his stronger sense of smell playing a factor given his only means of her scent is Mizu herself.
Although in Vergil's case, Mizu is right. It's not the scents of work that tend to linger in place of her scent when it begins to fade, but the the scents of his family. Because it's rare these days that Vergil is able to read without someone coming to rest upon him, and that includes his brother and son when they want his attention. And while it's more of a friendly competition than it used to be between brothers and a matter of training for his son, he still occasionally spars with each of them around various places in Folkmore. Vergil also stays in the garage for a little while to listen to Nero excitedly explain his latest project to him, and concedes to Dante's whims for dinner on occasion.
But he still has traces of Mizu. Faint and fading, and likely imperceptible to her human senses, but still there nonetheless.
It should not make her smile the way it does, the fact Vergil comes around frequently enough that he can always smell himself on her. That he's always a part of her life, present in one way or another, and reliable enough that he's simply part of what makes Mizu smell like Mizu to anyone else she meets. Others may not identify it as Vergil, and they may not be able to smell it all the time unless they too have excellent senses of smell, but it's still there.
Mizu smells like her life here: fresh steel, tea, old books, snow, a particular horse, and Vergil. The rest can come and go, depending on what happens, but those underlay the rest. Folkmore isn't a place that can last, but while she's here, so long as she's here, she's built a life. It still serves her revenge, her quest that she investigates in her time here. It simply does more? It's not the life of comfort and power that Heiji Shindo tried to bribe her with. It's not the life of a quiet life setting the rest aside that Mizu tried to build with Mikio and her mother. Yet it's a life, more of a life than she's had since she set out for her revenge. Perhaps because it isn't in Japan. Perhaps because people face far stranger than a single onryo regularly in their time in Folkmore. Perhaps because it's no one's home, and no one will stay—
Mizu strokes Vergil's back and sets aside the fact she'll leave one day. It's not today. Today she can have these luxuries. A warm private bath. Companionship. "The water should be ready."
It takes effort to pull away from Vergil. She's not that dirty, but Mizu won't waste the water. She leads the way to the bathroom and turns off the tap. She steps into the hot water. Mizu lets out a small sigh and lowers into the water. She could get used to this. She's already gotten used to so much.
Vergil holds her hand as she steps into the bath. Mizu is surefooted and unlikely to slip, of course, but he holds her hand all the same. It's a point of contact between them, and the point of leverage still serves a purpose in supporting Mizu as she lowers herself into the water. Vergil smiles slightly as she sighs, even as her hand slips from him. The need for a bath may not have been nearly so great as she pretended it to be for there to be a reasonable excuse for it, but that does not mean there is not still some benefit to be gained from it.
Once Mizu is relatively settled, Vergil joins her in the water. Mizu's tub is large enough for the both of them to comfortably fit without touching one another. But by Vergil's measure, there's very little reason to take a bath together and not be touching in some capacity. But Vergil does not settle right next to her, and when Vergil reaches for her, he's not seeking to move her from where she's already settled. He disturbs her less than that, and draws her legs into his lap. Without asking or any sort of preface, he begins to warm up one of her feet for a massage. The hot water will do plenty for relaxing and loosening her muscles back up. But with as much time as she spends on her feet with everything that she does, Vergil would be hard-pressed to believe that the hot water on its own would be enough.
Vergil only breaks his quiet once he moves on from warming her foot up to begin properly massaging it, and says, "Tell me if you want more or less of anything."
Not that Mizu has ever been particularly good at masking her reactions to physical sensations that Vergil couldn't somehow intuit his way to the right direction, but Vergil still gives her the explicit permission to guide the massage towards what feels best to her. If she wants him to linger or repeat part of it, or she wants more or less pressure, he's content to oblige her. It is, after all, meant to relax her further and bring about more relief than the water can do on its own.
Cold water is more Mizu's element than hot, but the heat soothes her muscles. That soothes her mind and relaxes her. She could soak in the water until she's loose, until the small aches and pains melt away. It leaves her in better condition than she usually ever is in Japan and more relaxed than healing herself with her Lore-bought ability. She's ready to enjoy it quietly with Vergil, and Mizu expects the touch, some form of touch, because it'd be unlike either of them to keep their distance. Her legs in Vergil's lap feels natural for that, and Mizu adjusts for it.
Less expected is the attention that follows. The concept isn't new to Mizu, but she's never received it before Vergil. A quiet reminder of how different he is from Mikio. The thought doesn't cause a flicker in her emotions or relaxation. It's natural to compare the two, and as ever, Vergil comes out the better man and the more attentive partner. She sighs a little, even as he warms up her feet. They've born her weight most of the day, it being a day of little reading, and she feels where it's taken a toll. Mizu hums slightly at Vergil's direction. She accepts it but neither plans to speak nor to hold her silence. She lets it proceed.
"Oh," Mizu groans at a particularly sore spot. There's pain, but behind that pain comes relief. The release of tension that means it will feel better once it's been dealt with. "Deeper."
Each time the pressure eases, Mizu sighs a little easier. It's incredible what pain she simply takes for granted until it's gone, relieved. You don't have to, Mizu almost says, except she knows he knows that. Vergil does it anyway. Happily. She lets him, and Mizu relaxes with it more than she ever would were she to massage her own foot on her own. Then, she'd remain alert to anyone approaching her cabin, who might interrupt while she's naked and exposed. She has to, always, on her own. Vergil's senses are stronger than her own, and he will not let someone get close. That's more relaxing than the bath: to let her guard down.
"Would you get any benefit," Mizu asks, "if I were to give you a massage?"
Vergil covers the whole of Mizu's feet as he massages them, extending the massage along not just the tops of her feet, but her ankles and lower legs as well while he has access to them. The difference from when he started is noticeable beyond just the feel of muscles and tendons loosening beneath his touch. Mizu's legs increasingly come to rest heavier and heavier in his lap as he progresses, especially after attending to a particularly sore point with deeper pressure. He does not simply stop touching her though even once he's through with the massage and all the tension seems to have left her. Vergil continues with light touches as though it would keep away any notion of tension returning and allowing her to stay with that feeling of relaxation for longer.
"I think that would depend on whether or not you had any skill with it," he teases lightly. Despite his healing factor, Vergil is not actually any more immune to muscle tension than Mizu happens to be.
Her head leans back, and the water and Vergil support much of her weight. Mizu feels both heavy and light at the same time. Even her question comes from only a half-present matter of curiosity. Vergil's teasing response pulls a bit of a scowl to her face. She would not guess Vergil had much experience with massages, and he's done an excellent job. Surely, she could do... decently. Rubbing and massaging doesn't seem that hard, and Mizu would not be trying to do more than relieve any aches he might have. Part of her wants to pull her legs down, grab his, and let him experience what that might be like.
However, Mizu is comfortable and comfortable enough not to step immediately toward a foolish challenge. Oh, she's not letting the idea go, but Mizu can be a little smarter about it. "I'll pay attention next time you massage my feet when we're not in the bath," she says, "Then I can copy what you do. As we've both seen, you have skill enough with it."
She's used to studying people's hands, their feet, their movements. Mizu wants some time to practice on her own feet before immediately trying it on Vergil's, but it shouldn't be hard. It cannot be harder than learning how to use a sword. "You'll just have to trust me."
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First week of April
Mizu serves herself yet again with hardly any prompting, a third serving, because she's truly famished and the food is too good to pass up. It's better than she needs and more, too. Of late, Mizu's eaten far more like she did on the road when short on coin, making each one stretch a long ways. Her days are busy and full. Sometimes she does not even make it to the library, all the more grateful for the way she's shifted to using the library for its purpose (borrowing books) to study them at home, whether that's her own or Vergil's. That some nights she falls asleep with the book in her lap is no matter. Kai is with her again, not only in Folkmore but in her own stable near Mizu's home, not in far off Willow (where the farmer's far more open to accepting Kai when Mizu wears a flower crown, an exception only being granted to the horse).
"It may mean more time spent in motion, going here and there," Mizu admits, "but a horse's needs cannot be overlooked. I'd gladly make the trek to Willow every day, as I did in the first days since Kai showed up on my doorstep."
Her lips curl up into a smile, and Mizu looks at Vergil. It was his doing, she's sure of it.
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But that is the only part he is pretending to be doing. When it comes to listening to her, Vergil's attention is focused on her. He's quiet and does not interrupt. Sometimes Mizu will talk herself in a small circle, repeating a piece of information until something new is attached to it. He doesn't mind, however. It's rare to see Mizu so passionate in this way, so lacking in self-consciousness that words spill out easily and she never seems to realize it. She doesn't seem to concern herself with how clearly she's communicating or not, and just seems to implicitly trust he's keeping up. If that's even a concern of hers. Because frankly, Vergil doesn't fault her if it's not and she is merely seeking out a release for her excitement. It's good to see her this way, and feels better knowing he had at least a small hand in making it happen in the first place. So, he speaks when she goes looking for his input or there's an otherwise appropriate lull, but he does not change the subject or unkindly point out that she's told him about the blankets and their fabrics three times this week alone. Frankly, Vergil is more than content to simply listen with a faint smile on his lips if that's all she really needs from him.
"I'm sure it is of little concern to her what the weather is like," Vergil says. A beast willing to go toe-to-toe with a half-devil in a battle of wills is not likely to wilt over the constant presence of snow, but Vergil keeps that part to himself. For as knowing as Mizu's smile is, Vergil does not acknowledge it at all, and maintains the ruse of ignorance as to how the mare came to be in Folkmore. Mizu could be forgiven for assuming it to be a bit of a playful joke between them or even a clumsy attempt at humility, but it is actually quite sincere. He thinks by saying nothing, providing no hint or clue will keep it a mystery, and ultimately negate the importance of the question, which is thoroughly aligned with his intent. After all, if he wanted recognition, he could have sought it several different ways even in just the presentation of the horse alone. All Vergil wants, however, is for Mizu to be happy. For Kai to belong to her and only her as it should have been with no danger of someone taking her away again. She deserves that. So, Kai is not a gift given to her. She is something, someone returned to her. Vergil merely facilitated it happening. That's all and not important.
So, instead of the real reason he knows Kai is not likely one to care about the year-round snow and cold, he says, "Not when you have her living in the lap of luxury and quite possibly turning her into the most spoiled creature in this realm."
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Kai is a hardy horse, one used to the mountains and the winters there. She was wild, once living on her own under all conditions. She's her own creature, and no doubt her opinion on the matter will become clear. If not this summer, so shortly after her arrival, perhaps the next. Even should Mizu leave, when Mizu leaves, Kai deserves a life of her own choosing, not one depending on the whims of a lord who sees her only as one of many. A lord who hasn't earned her respect yet dictates her life. Unnatural.
"It is no less than she deserves," Mizu says, clucking her tongue. "No less than she had before, when we were first together. It is simply a matter that my home was not built to care for horses, the way Mikio's was long before I came there. I shared in all the chores we had and cared for Kai myself then, but I did not fully appreciate all the work that made such labor light enough we could care for a whole herd of horses. Not that I have any need or interest in having a herd of horses here. I need some time remaining for research—
"And time with certain individuals." Vergil, most of all. As much as Kai has taken up her time, Mizu continues to make as much time for Vergil as she had before. It means less time making swords. Less time at the library. Less time on other matters, but not Vergil. Like Kai, he is precious and will too slip through her fingers when she must leave.
Mizu sips her tea, only a second soaking of the leaves, and enjoys it. It tastes far more of tea than the weakened stuff that had lasted a week before. Though honestly she'd drag the leaves out even longer if Vergil came over less frequently.
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"You seem to be enjoying the work regardless of the demand upon your time."
Not that Mizu was treating it as some great secret, but it is still something worth noting all the same.
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Vergil doesn't know much about horses. Mizu didn't either before her marriage. Yet he respects Kai for who she is and never complains when Mizu needs to finish doing something in the stables before they can spend time together. Nor does he complain about Mizu dragging him into riding horses for the sheer joy of it. So many moments her heart feels lighter since Kai arrived. Since Vergil brought Kai here. It is in the fox spirit's nature to allow it but not to provide it unprompted. He didn't give her a horse. He allowed her part of her life back that Mizu thought gone for good. It never occurred to her to summon Kai, the horse she lost. The horse she has back. It will not be possible in Japan. Mizu cannot simply demand her horse back from a lord. Here, however, it's good.
"It wasn't a bad life, while it was good. Taking care of horses," Mizu says. "I never delivered them to his lord, never dealt with anyone. I wouldn't want to. Mikio couldn't choose his customers the way Master Eiji does. The work is good. The business is not."
Horses are expensive, so Mizu never had one after Kai. She walked. On occasion she took a boat or rode a horse, but those were exceptions when they were necessary. Even in Folkmore, it takes a lot. Mizu socializes more because of it. On Kai's behalf. There are simply too few Star Children and spirits in need of swords for that to sustain her. Time with Vergil isn't transactional like that. She'd do it, even if it didn't give her a lick of Lore.
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"Perhaps that's part of why Kai took to you, but not to him," he says. "She knew you cared for her, not what she would do for you."
Much in the way that Mikio never really mistreated Mizu. Until the end, he kept to his word of keeping her safe from the outside world in exchange for her contributions to the household. It was only when she stepped out of line, bruised his fragile ego that he demonstrated cruelty towards Mizu and her surrogate mother. For as little as Vergil knows of horses, he can tell Kai is of good stock. She's visibly strong and maintains an elegant form even if only for Mizu. She would be akin to a jewel amongst mere coins likely compared to the rest of the herd. Perhaps that's why Mikio gifted her to Mizu, Vergil thinks. It was not just out of respect for the bond Mizu made with the mare, but he saw it as sacrificing something for her. To say the bond they were developing meant something to him. But then Mizu did not serve the correct purpose when she so thoroughly defeated him in swordplay, and she lost her value. Kai had not.
Vergil chooses not to dwell on his cruel decisions any further.
"But I suppose when you've chosen to make it your business and you reek of horse most days, I imagine you just have to be grateful for whoever is willing to tolerate it to do business. How fortunate it is for you that I am willing to tolerate it for your sake alone and without expectation you are going to sell something to me." He's teasing her lightly, again. He does not mind the change to her scent since Kai's arrival all that much beyond a mild lack of recognition at first. It is no more overbearing or particularly unpleasant to him than the scents left upon her by work in the forge. Its only crime for a time was being novel, but he now expects the scent of straw and Kai to linger upon her just as earth and heat and metal normally do, and it would seem odd without them. More seriously, he says, "I agree that the business would not likely suit you, but the work certainly does. Or at the very least, you are quite good at charming creatures that so often refuse and tolerate little when it comes to the company of others."
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Mizu lifts a shoulder, not releasing Vergil's hand where he's grasped it, to sniff at her armpit. It smells faintly of hay and horse, but she smells remarkably clean by her standards. Bathing in Folkmore comes easily. She can soak in her own home, indoors, without risk of discovery. It's luxurious, the way only lords would bathe in Japan. That means she bathes more frequently, for the pleasure of it after a long day of physical labor. Some new soap or other bathing item appeared at her bath without warning, but Mizu's avoided it because unlike Kai, it's not the sort of gift Vergil would simply leave around for her. In all likelihood, it does something when used. Mizu'd rather not experience one of the fox spirit's pranks or trials while naked.
The work suits her. It's an idea that gives Mizu pause. She trained to make swords. She trained herself for revenge and set herself on that path. She stepped aside, stumbled, for a short time but returned to it. The work, the work she learned to do helping Mikio, doesn't on first glance help her revenge, yet everything helps the pursuit of one's art. Swordfather taught her that. How does taking care of Kai help her on her course of revenge? On the simplest level, she has that answer when it comes to Vergil. Sparring with him makes her a better swordsman, no matter that her fathers will be unable to do what he can with a sword. It increases the odds she'll succeed, she'll live. Kai? Perhaps should she need to travel by horse, should her fathers not be in London proper but the countryside like Vergil's estate in that memory world on the train, her experience with Kai will help her. Yet she cares for Kai because she's Kai. Kai may very well make it take longer for Mizu to accomplish her revenge, to be ready to return home, because of her many needs and because going home means never seeing Kai again either. It is goodbye to both Vergil and Kai, no matter that Kai is from her world, her time and place. Mizu may be falling for the fox spirit's tricks, the way things always grow complicated and difficult once one plays with that danger. Mizu doesn't regret that, and that may be what happens to people in those stories.
"I lack charm, but I am one of those creatures myself," Mizu says, somewhat teasing herself, somewhat serious. "We recognize and respect each other. I reached out, but the decision was entirely hers. I would have respected a no."
It sounds not so different from how Mizu and Vergil became close. Though with Rin, perhaps, Mizu was more like Kai than the other way around. Rin's gone and hopefully building the life she wants back home. Her future is there, not in Folkmore. Folkmore isn't forever. It's only a place for now, for a short period. Not for life. "Though if the stink must be tolerated with great effort, we could move to the bath. I'm nearly done with dinner."
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"How merciful of you," he says with a quiet, amused huff. "Either way, if you're nearly done, I'll set to cleaning up while you finish."
Vergil rises to his feet, but does not yet release Mizu's hand.
"Try to taste and savor it, won't you? I didn't work hard making it for you to just inhale it," he says, his free hand turning her face towards him as he bends down to press a kiss to her lips all the same. "How you don't give yourself a stomachache constantly is beyond me."
And yet, despite the mild scolding for how quickly she eats, he still provides Mizu another kiss with a smile on his lips, his thumb gently stroking her opposite cheek. Giving her hand a light squeeze before letting go, he breaks the kiss and straightens back out to clear both his place setting and the remainder of the meal from the table. By his estimation, there's enough left for one or two more meals depending on how Mizu opts to make it stretch. Knowing her recent patterns, it will probably err on the side of two rather than one. Vergil hopes soon a bit of an equilibrium will be naturally achieved now that Kai is more or less settled, and it's that same hope that keeps him from essentially staging an intervention.
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Her chopsticks move to shovel the rest of her food in her mouth. Vergil's been barely eating at his plate for some time now. He's waited on her eating long enough—
Mizu blinks, her hand pausing as she processes the request. She barely kisses him back the first time, better reacting the second. She laughs a little. "It'd take far more to give me a stomach ache. Perhaps a sword to the gut."
It started when she was young, on the street. Food was there when it was there, and people would chase her off if they saw her. So it was scooped up with her hands, gone in seconds. Food was reliable with Master Eiji, a blessing she never took for granted, but it also wasn't good. It gave them energy to make swords. It didn't need to do anything else, like taste appetizing. Traveling, it was still best whenever in a town to eat her food quickly and be on her way. She attracted negative attention often enough she wouldn't always get to finish the meals she paid for if she took her time. It's hard to slow down, but Mizu takes smaller bites and chews. It tastes far better than anything she's made.
Still, it's only food, and Mizu doesn't need that long to eat it. That may say something, given it's her third serving, three times as much as she generally eats as a meal these days, but she's warm and full with it. She gives a pleasant sigh at the feeling and stands to clear her plate. She sets it on the counter and slides it across, leaning herself but giving Vergil all the room he may need in the kitchen. He doesn't have to clean up after her. She's fine cleaning in her own place, especially since he cooked. Yet she doesn't insist. She appreciates having one less chore to do.
"Your smell's changed a little since Dante and Nero showed up," Mizu comments. "Subtly, but it's there. You smell like family."
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"Pizza grease and motor oil? You should have said something sooner," he says dryly enough that to anyone else's ear, it would probably sound like he was taking the opportunity to insult his brother and son or otherwise be dismissive of what she said. But Mizu knows the importance of Vergil's family to him and she's learned the subtle tells by his tone to know it's not a genuine refutation.
Vergil knows that he's changed since Dante and Nero arrived. He's still quiet and reserved, preferring the company of his books to others. He also has not abandoned his pride or skill as a warrior, nor has his temper dissipated. But there's also something...a little softer within him these days, and Vergil finds himself being braver in ways that he never could be when he was younger. Frankly... Well, there's really no other way of putting it than he's more human than he's been in a very long time. It's terrifying at times, and he does not always handle it with the greatest amount of grace or the least amount of doubt and insecurity, but it's sincere and just because it's difficult doesn't mean he's any less dedicated to it.
But he also knows it's not just because of his kin alone that these changes have come about. They are a large, primary factor, but that does not make Mizu's contributions any less important. She knows of his mistakes and the blood and consequences that came because of his decisions. Mizu does not and cannot offer absolution for his wrongdoings, but neither does she hold them against him. Whatever she may think of the uglier, more broken parts of him, she accepts them. Oftentimes, she accepts them better than he does even as Vergil's found ways to make peace with parts of his past. So, it's not a case of one or the other. Mizu and his family both make him better. Or, at the very least, they both push him to strive for better.
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The smells themselves are neither good nor bad on their own. They don't bother Mizu or put her off. What she likes, what she appreciates, are what they mean for Vergil. He has his family in Folkmore, his whole reason for coming here. He can take his time here and simply enjoy a life with them. In time, he can find a way back to it in his world. After the time they're having together here, Mizu doubts anyone could keep Vergil from his son. They couldn't before either. Not someone willing to follow a fox spirit on the chance it will lead him there. He might not be looking into that right now, spending time with his family and with Mizu. It's why she's certain she'll leave first. Mizu cannot achieve her revenge in Folkmore. Even if one or more of her fathers showed up, killing them would do little good. They'd return like weeds, not removed at the root. So she will need to leave, while Vergil has what he wants here and now. And Mizu—
Mizu wants more and more, the longer she stays. It's dangerous, that longing.
"We can wash up, but we'll both smell the same in a day or two," Mizu says. That hardly negates the joy of washing or the luxury of hot water filling the bath like a natural hot spring. She appreciates cold soaks too, even enjoys them more sometimes. The ocean is a place of calm within her. "Only with more relaxed muscles."
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So, he wouldn't have exactly thought anything unusual if Nero had simply kept her company or let Mizu be entirely until Vergil's return. Despite how rough Nero's language may be, he is still exceedingly polite when he wishes to be, and it seems to be within his practice to remain so unless someone provides him with reason to be otherwise. Especially seeing as how by then, Nero knew the truth of their relationship. That they are...dating. (It still seems a strange thing to say for Vergil, but that's more a by-product of avoiding a label for so long than any reflection of their relationship.) Nero seemed quite nonplussed by the information, but generally supportive nonetheless. So, the polite nature of their relationship continuing seemed more likely than more intentional time spent together. Thus, Vergil's surprise that Nero suggested they go out for pizza. However, despite curiosity about the outing, Vergil chose not to pry for details from Mizu or Nero. Neither said much about it beyond Nero did giving Vergil a bit of playful grief along the lines of "you snooze, you lose," and so Vergil simply trusted it went well. There's certainly been nothing amiss since between the two of them that would suggest otherwise even if there has been no repeat since to his knowledge. Regardless, Vergil has chosen that unless either one of them explicitly requests his intervention, he shall let it be between them.
"Perhaps," he says, setting aside the last of the dishes to dry before rinsing down any remaining suds in the sink. "But I think more importantly when the scents of the bath fade, it's my scent that's on you first."
Whether that's because Vergil is with her and close to her or she's helped herself to his clothing, he's confident that his scent is the first. Perhaps that's why Kai does not mind him nearly as much, he thinks faintly. She's come to associate his scent with Mizu enough that she contemplates kicking him rather than immediately deciding it as the only choice. It's as good a theory as any, but it's not really the point. Sink and hands clean, he steps over to where Mizu is leaning against the counter and places his hands on either side of her, resting his forehead against hers in a gentle nuzzle. Vergil likes the little marks he leaves upon her regardless of whether they are marks of his passion and desire or his scent alone. Mizu is his and allows for those to remain on her skin because she chooses to give herself to him. It remains a pleasing thrill to him even beyond their more intimate acts with one another because he's proven himself to be worthy of it, safe enough for that sort of vulnerability from one just as guarded as he also tends to be.
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Mizu rests her head against his and her hands on Vergil's waist. Her instinct is to draw these moments out, but the truth of the matter is that they will come. More will come. Mizu can trust they will come. So she doesn't slide her arms around behind him to hold Vergil close.
"We are due for a bath then," Mizu teases, "I can't smell you on me over Kai, and Kai doesn't appreciate me smelling like her the way you do." Oh she smells a little of Vergil, from spending time tonight, but she makes the unnecessary excuse, the teasing. She kisses him, without a push for more and no hurry to move along. She rubs his sides, comfortable and full and perhaps a bit stinky but unbothered by it.
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"Well then, if she lacks that much sense, it sounds as though she may be more foolish than the one who looks after her," he says with a teasing smile against her lips before kissing her again. Vergil moves one of his hands from the counter to along Mizu's forearm, tracing down along to her wrist and hand. "Her loss. My gain."
Intertwining their fingers together, Vergil presses a kiss to Mizu's hairline before stepping back. His other hand follows a similar path along Mizu's other arm, but does not end in holding her hand so much as gently disentangling them from one another. By the hand he's holding, Vergil leads her the few paces to her stairs, guiding her to walk ahead of him once they reach the base of them. He's long-since been allowed into the upstairs of Mizu's cabin without needing some form of explicit permission from her. There's nothing really remarkable up there as far as the bedroom or bathroom are concerned, and nothing about Mizu in those spaces would somehow shock or scandalize him either. Simply put, the upstairs to her cabin hardly feels even remotely forbidden to him as it had in the beginning of their time together. But despite there now being this implicit standing invitation to share in the space, Vergil respects the whole of it as hers still. Thus, every now and again, he does little things like this because he knows most are not privy to any of it let alone as much as Vergil tends to be.
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The stairs turn halfway up, another measure of privacy, and Mizu walks up without a hurry. Once in her room, she squeezes Vergil's hand before releasing it and takes the time to start the water. It is a large space to fill, hot and steaming, before returning to her room to remove her clothes. She wears the same outfit she always wears, when she wears her own clothes, and removing it piece by piece. After a moment's thought, Mizu sets them aside for the wash, rather than hanging them back in her closet. The greatest relief comes when she unbinds her chest, a small sigh. It's easier to breath, and Mizu stretches, enjoying the freedom of movement.
"We have a little time til it's ready," Mizu comments. Amazed as ever at baths that come without lugging water back and forth. It takes no more effort than turning the tap and a little waiting. She pulls her hair down, and it falls far down her back. "You know, unless I'm going out, I usually put your clothes on first after a bath."
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"You're still welcome to them," he says, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, right over one of his faded marks. It used to be just one set of clothes Vergil left behind, but he's left more with Mizu since learning of her little habit in his absence to allow her to indulge in it as much as she likes. Or, in this case, allow her to indulge without leaving him without anything to wear. Vergil runs a hand through her hair, pulling some strands forward as he does, idly noting just how long it's grown. His other hand rests at her hip, thumb lightly stroking at warm skin. Vergil wants for nothing right now, his contentment plain in his expression.
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Her head leans to one side as he kisses her. The skin's barely bruised any longer, and Mizu'd welcome him darkening it again if Vergil were so inclined. She traces a couple places on his skin, all perfectly clear, where she left the briefest of marks herself. Mizu has to pull back and observe them then and there if she wants to see them at all. They're gone so quickly. It is fine, part of reality. She has his clothes, if not her marks on his skin. "Then when you leave, you can wear the clothes that no longer smell like you. I've worn them out."
Mizu stays close and leans against him. "Or I can get your smell from you directly. As well."
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"I would think either would be satisfactory for the intended purpose," he says, continuing to idly play with the loose strands of her hair. Vergil understands why she wears her hair the way she does, but he cannot help wondering what she would look like with other styles applied to it. He's certain she would look just as handsome and beautiful, but it would be a curious sight to see after so long of the same way of wearing it day in and day out. It's something that will remain in his imagination, however. Assuming she were at least amenable to wearing something different in the privacy of her room, the sum total of hairstyles known between them that would differ is likely exactly zero.
But it is no matter. He's already spoiled each time her hair is released and left for him to pet and play with. Vergil doesn't know if she likes or particularly prefers the sensation of it, but she has yet to complain when he runs his fingers through it. At the very least, she's understanding that he enjoys the act as a means of affection to her, and indulgence in something few people can likely claim to have experienced for themselves.
"Of course," he continues, "I believe one affords a bit more enjoyment for you than the other. And you could not be faulted for indulgences with as hard as you've been working lately."
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Enjoyment, as Vergil puts it. Indulgences. Oh, Mizu indulges herself with Vergil all the time, all the time they do anything besides spar. That initial reason for meeting that extended to Vergil taking care of her afterward to ensure she didn't collapse until that stretched out. Now, they spend more time not sparring than sparring, despite her ability to heal her wounds to be ready to go the next day. "You enjoy it as much as I do, as much more than me merely wearing your clothes," Mizu tells Vergil, "While I'm here, I'll indulge as much as I like."
Not that Mizu's entirely sure what that amount would be, were there not the matter of Vergil spending time with Dante and Nero. Their time together at Amrita was forced upon them by limited resources, yet with some time apart during the day, Mizu didn't feel suffocated. She misses Vergil the nights they sleep apart, and it's one reason she spends the night sometimes at his place. All they do is read and cuddle and nothing that would keep his brother and son away, save for their imaginations. Mizu appreciates having her space, that this cabin is hers that she welcomes him into, yet how much more would she welcome him in? They've found a balance that works, and Mizu appreciates it for what it is. After all, she has plenty of work to do when he's not here and falls asleep without trouble.
"How long do you smell me on you when we part?" Mizu asks. It might last longer, with a better sense of smell, but she doesn't know him to have the same habits she's picked up. Not that she's needed to leave a spare set of clothes at his home. She could.
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Although in Vergil's case, Mizu is right. It's not the scents of work that tend to linger in place of her scent when it begins to fade, but the the scents of his family. Because it's rare these days that Vergil is able to read without someone coming to rest upon him, and that includes his brother and son when they want his attention. And while it's more of a friendly competition than it used to be between brothers and a matter of training for his son, he still occasionally spars with each of them around various places in Folkmore. Vergil also stays in the garage for a little while to listen to Nero excitedly explain his latest project to him, and concedes to Dante's whims for dinner on occasion.
But he still has traces of Mizu. Faint and fading, and likely imperceptible to her human senses, but still there nonetheless.
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Mizu smells like her life here: fresh steel, tea, old books, snow, a particular horse, and Vergil. The rest can come and go, depending on what happens, but those underlay the rest. Folkmore isn't a place that can last, but while she's here, so long as she's here, she's built a life. It still serves her revenge, her quest that she investigates in her time here. It simply does more? It's not the life of comfort and power that Heiji Shindo tried to bribe her with. It's not the life of a quiet life setting the rest aside that Mizu tried to build with Mikio and her mother. Yet it's a life, more of a life than she's had since she set out for her revenge. Perhaps because it isn't in Japan. Perhaps because people face far stranger than a single onryo regularly in their time in Folkmore. Perhaps because it's no one's home, and no one will stay—
Mizu strokes Vergil's back and sets aside the fact she'll leave one day. It's not today. Today she can have these luxuries. A warm private bath. Companionship. "The water should be ready."
It takes effort to pull away from Vergil. She's not that dirty, but Mizu won't waste the water. She leads the way to the bathroom and turns off the tap. She steps into the hot water. Mizu lets out a small sigh and lowers into the water. She could get used to this. She's already gotten used to so much.
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Once Mizu is relatively settled, Vergil joins her in the water. Mizu's tub is large enough for the both of them to comfortably fit without touching one another. But by Vergil's measure, there's very little reason to take a bath together and not be touching in some capacity. But Vergil does not settle right next to her, and when Vergil reaches for her, he's not seeking to move her from where she's already settled. He disturbs her less than that, and draws her legs into his lap. Without asking or any sort of preface, he begins to warm up one of her feet for a massage. The hot water will do plenty for relaxing and loosening her muscles back up. But with as much time as she spends on her feet with everything that she does, Vergil would be hard-pressed to believe that the hot water on its own would be enough.
Vergil only breaks his quiet once he moves on from warming her foot up to begin properly massaging it, and says, "Tell me if you want more or less of anything."
Not that Mizu has ever been particularly good at masking her reactions to physical sensations that Vergil couldn't somehow intuit his way to the right direction, but Vergil still gives her the explicit permission to guide the massage towards what feels best to her. If she wants him to linger or repeat part of it, or she wants more or less pressure, he's content to oblige her. It is, after all, meant to relax her further and bring about more relief than the water can do on its own.
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Less expected is the attention that follows. The concept isn't new to Mizu, but she's never received it before Vergil. A quiet reminder of how different he is from Mikio. The thought doesn't cause a flicker in her emotions or relaxation. It's natural to compare the two, and as ever, Vergil comes out the better man and the more attentive partner. She sighs a little, even as he warms up her feet. They've born her weight most of the day, it being a day of little reading, and she feels where it's taken a toll. Mizu hums slightly at Vergil's direction. She accepts it but neither plans to speak nor to hold her silence. She lets it proceed.
"Oh," Mizu groans at a particularly sore spot. There's pain, but behind that pain comes relief. The release of tension that means it will feel better once it's been dealt with. "Deeper."
Each time the pressure eases, Mizu sighs a little easier. It's incredible what pain she simply takes for granted until it's gone, relieved. You don't have to, Mizu almost says, except she knows he knows that. Vergil does it anyway. Happily. She lets him, and Mizu relaxes with it more than she ever would were she to massage her own foot on her own. Then, she'd remain alert to anyone approaching her cabin, who might interrupt while she's naked and exposed. She has to, always, on her own. Vergil's senses are stronger than her own, and he will not let someone get close. That's more relaxing than the bath: to let her guard down.
"Would you get any benefit," Mizu asks, "if I were to give you a massage?"
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"I think that would depend on whether or not you had any skill with it," he teases lightly. Despite his healing factor, Vergil is not actually any more immune to muscle tension than Mizu happens to be.
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However, Mizu is comfortable and comfortable enough not to step immediately toward a foolish challenge. Oh, she's not letting the idea go, but Mizu can be a little smarter about it. "I'll pay attention next time you massage my feet when we're not in the bath," she says, "Then I can copy what you do. As we've both seen, you have skill enough with it."
She's used to studying people's hands, their feet, their movements. Mizu wants some time to practice on her own feet before immediately trying it on Vergil's, but it shouldn't be hard. It cannot be harder than learning how to use a sword. "You'll just have to trust me."
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nsfw warning
Re: nsfw warning
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