[Nero attempts to get up on his own power, briefly, but finds such a drain of exhaustion weighing him down that he swiftly gives up. He stays upright long enough to let Vergil fetch his water for him, then carefully takes it. He slumps back at enough of an angle where he can try to drink without dumping it all over his face, still leaning as bodily on Vergil as the position allows.
He perks up a little when Vergil mentions the book. Glances, as though to confirm it's the one he bought. Then he looks quietly proud of himself.]
Is it good? The guy at the bookstore said he thought it'd be nice.
[Vergil doesn't mind the way Nero props himself up against him, and is frankly prepared to prop him entirely if need be. But he takes it as a good sign that Nero is only partially leaning on him in the end and able to hold himself up even a little.]
It is, [Vergil confirms with a nod.] It rounds out my collection of Blake, and is a good start to the others.
[Dante had taken issue with Vergil's refusal to really acquire much by way of things for himself. He had been here for nine months on his own, and hadn't taken the liberty to acquire his own books, contenting himself with borrowing copies from the library for as much as he needed or wanted. Frankly, Vergil still finds it a bit silly to concern himself with gathering books when he will not likely be able to take them with him when he leaves this place someday. Folkmore is, after all, just stop along the way back to the human world and by far not Vergil's final destination. But he won't deny that it's been...nice. To have copies that are his own again. Even if he finds himself in disagreement with Dante's logic overall, he can see some semblance of a point to it now that he's had a few more tangible things to call his own after being so long without beyond the clothes on his back and the Yamato.]
I'm surprised you didn't take the chance to read some of it before gifting it to me. You were getting quite good at making the books seem untouched at the apartment.
[Nero's been a little busted as far as reading Vergil's books is concerned for a while now, but it's only now that Vergil's chosen to acknowledge it openly.]
[Nero outright smiles, pleased at his success. Part of him wondered if the book might be kind of basic for somebody who reads as much as Vergil-- like buying the equivalent of a kindergartner's first poetry book for a lifelong enthusiast, or something.
He's taking a sip of water when Vergil slyly suggests he could have read it beforehand, and mentions his prior, secretive snooping around the books at the apartment. Now that they live in Vergil's room he's not touched them much. But it's not really that he was sneaking them...
He swallows gingerly.] I tried to. Same as I tried all your other poetry books. [He purses his lips a bit, then shrugs a little sheepishly.] Afraid they all make the same amount of sense to me. Which is, not much. But I've never been a real great reader when it comes to the fancy stuff.
[Vergil raises a slight eyebrow at the labeling of poetry as "fancy stuff." While he cannot really speak to how strong of a reader Nero is or is not, Vergil certainly doesn't find poetry to be something so out of reach for even a weaker reader to grasp some understanding. Poetry, after all, had its origins as an oral tradition rather than written. To that end, he asks,]
Out of curiosity, did you ever read them aloud or were you only reading them in your head?
Nope. [A beat.] Unless you count moving my lips while I read.
["Words pretty I guess" is most of what Nero has ever gotten out of reading poetry. Except he managed to find that one Blake poem while he was flipping through, it was short enough to read over it enough times to realize it would be a really nice, heartfelt spot to leave his envelope full of baby pictures.]
I wouldn't, [Vergil says with a slight shake of his head.] If someone only ever reads poetry in their heads and never hears the words aloud, they are missing important elements that help bring its meaning together. We tend to read quickly when not reading aloud. That leads us to fail in noticing subtle details in the poem's structure, and in losing that, we lose a significant amount of meaning and connection to the words. The specific rhythm of the words chosen, the line breaks, even the punctuation itself are important to the experience and expression of the poem.
[There's a slight furrow in Vergil's brow as he tries to think of how to illustrate his point perhaps a little more clearly.]
It would be akin to reading the lyrics of a song you like, but never once listening to the song itself. You would lose the rhythm of the words and vocal quality and technique of the singer as well as the instrumentation and musical composition meant to heighten the emotion and intent behind the lyrics. The words could still bear meaning just reading them plainly written, but you wouldn't experience it to the fullness that it was meant to be experienced.
[Vergil purses his lips at being called a nerd. He's not offended or necessarily put out by the ribbing. It's not as though Nero dismisses his point outright and leaves it at that. But... Well, it's one of the few things Vergil can confidently say that he likes and he's notably willing to indulge in often for purely the sake of it rather than for a function it may serve alone. Had he the access to books more consistently, it's likely it would have likely been among the few constants throughout his life. So, it's a bit hard for Vergil not to be a little displeased at being poked at over it, especially when it's been so rare that he has anyone with even a mild or passing interest to talk with about it. Even here in Folkmore, with his tendency to keep largely to himself, Vergil really hasn't found anyone to match his interest. Thus, Vergil doesn't quite bristle or snap, but there's a light color to his cheeks and he doesn't really return Nero's humor. Rather instead, he pushes right past it as though it wasn't said at all.]
Something to consider then, if you should choose to try to read them again.
Nero isn't trying to be dismissive though. He simply never thought about reading aloud, not least of all because he's not sure how to pronounce some of those words. The idea of being overheard fumbling through a poem uneases him more than being caught squinting and struggling ever did.
After a moment, and with another sip of water to bolster his courage, he makes a suggestion.]
[He hesitates to answer for a brief moment. It's not because he finds the idea abhorrent to the extreme end of things or mildly disagreeable on the lesser, but Vergil has a brief moment where he doubts it to be a sincere suggestion. Poetry does not appear to particularly appealing to Nero, and while he has demonstrated effort in reading through the books Vergil brings him that were among Beatrice's favorites, that is a bit different. Nero's mother is not here. He cannot form a connection with her in really any other manner than through Vergil's memories of her or by reading the books she loved. Nero does not need to rely upon such similar methods to know Vergil. He is right here for him to know and learn. Whatever investigation into Vergil's choices in literature remain far more superficial then, and it is of little consequence if it's not an interest Nero can develop for himself.]
[But Nero is honest perhaps to a fault, and it is not truly within his character to say anything he does not mean.]
[That hesitation briefly worries him, as though he might be about to catch some mockery for being childish. Maybe Vergil has better things to do than read to his adult son like he's a little kid, or would rather be left alone than bothered.
But that's chased off once he agrees, and Nero nods back, unintentionally echoing his movement.]
I have trouble reading 'em on the page. So maybe hearing them, they'll make more sense.
You may fare better with revisiting the poems in Songs of Innocence to start, [he says, nodding in the direction of his bookshelf where the copy the Folkmore bookfairy and absolutely not the other son of Sparda currently sits. Vergil doesn't know how much of the poems in the book Nero gifted him Nero actually read through, but he had plenty of time to read through that one while they were still in the apartment.] The poem you chose for the photos comes from that collection. They're meant to be similar to nursery rhymes.
[Thus neither as long nor complicated as Paradise Lost in their presentation and far more straightforward.]
They are where I began when I first took an interest.
[Nursery rhymes with super metal illustrations. Or... wait, was that that other book? Nero won't even take offense at the suggestion he should start with nursery rhyme-grade poems because he might understand them better.
He turns his head and blinks up at Vergil as though gauging him for something. Then he takes another sip of water before actually going for it.]
[His eyebrow raises, but Vergil doesn't ask aloud if Nero really means for Vergil to read to him now while he is generally feeling unwell and may be more prone to not retaining any of it. He only spares a brief glance toward the bookshelf before ruling that out completely. Nero's not likely to move off him enough for him to stand up right now. So, he nudges him to sit up enough that he can lean to the other nightstand where he placed his book down and collect it.]
[Well, what else is he doing, right? Sitting here spilling his guts-- figuratively, not literally again, thank goodness.
He does cooperate in moving as much as necessary to let Vergil fetch his book. Gives him a chance to lie back with his head on Vergil's lap again, holding his water glass atop his stomach and watching what liquid remains jostle as he breathes.]
[Vergil rolls his eyes slightly at the preach it to me, but it is in good humor with a slight smile. With Nero settled, Vergil opens the book. He mentioned reading it several times before, and it shows with how relatively quickly he's able to flip through to the poem of his choosing. Vergil adjusts his hold on the book to holding it with one hand to read while the other strokes Nero's hair. The poem Vergil chooses may not seem an obvious choice for one that he might like a lot given his temperament. And there are certainly plenty among those more critical of such naive joy that Vergil favors as well. But of those Nero may have more familiarity with, it's this one that Vergil bears a little more appreciation for these days.]
[Vergil knows the poem well enough that he truly does not need to look at the page the entire time to recite it, but he keeps his eyes there rather than looking to Nero. It's only when the poem is at its end that he looks back down to Nero in his lap after a brief moment to let the last of it settle.]
[Well... this one's easy. It's kids playing on a big, green, open field. Funny how the images come to mind so smoothly when he's not tripping over reading the words himself.
He's quiet for a moment after Vergil finishes, eyes closed. Then he opens them to find his father gazing down at him, almost expectantly.]
You have a good voice for that. [First thing that comes to mind for him to say, for some reason. He smiles.] I liked it.
[It's a bit of an odd compliment. Certainly not one Vergil anticipated receiving even if he's had plenty of experiencing reading poems. He says nothing about it though, brushing it aside more in favor of the whole point in reading it to Nero in the first place.]
I take it that means it made more sense to you than reading it for yourself?
[Vergil smiles lightly as he continues combing his fingers through Nero's hair, his amusement at just how quickly Nero is to clarify. His smiles grows a little more as Nero's able to find a more personal connection to the poem.]
I'm glad to hear it, [he says, closing the book and setting it down on the bed beside him.]
[Funny how contented he seems at just the fingers stroking through his short-cropped hair. Almost like a cat who's made himself comfortable on Vergil's lap.
He watches the book get put away and squirms a little.] Is that all I get? Just the one?
[If there's a vague look of surprise on Vergil's face, it's because he genuinely is surprised. Nero only asked for the one to be read, and Vergil assumed that to be the extent of his general tolerance.]
[It does not show in his expression, but Vergil's heart clenches a little at the request even with as much as Nero tries to play it off as not a particularly big deal. And perhaps it's not, but... Not that Vergil would necessarily want Nero to be ill, this is still something that they both missed out on as he grew up.]
Alright, [he says, a little quieter than he meant to be. Vergil picks the book back up, but before he opens it, he nods to the glass Nero is still balancing on himself in his hands.] Are you through with that?
[He'd almost forgotten about the water. Nero is about to hand it over, but he considers for a moment before sitting up enough to drain the rest of the glass. There wasn't all that much left, and he imagines it will make Vergil feel better about his hydration levels.
Once the glass is empty he hands it over and fails at not looking terribly pleased with this scenario as he lies back down, settling in and smiling up at Vergil.]
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He perks up a little when Vergil mentions the book. Glances, as though to confirm it's the one he bought. Then he looks quietly proud of himself.]
Is it good? The guy at the bookstore said he thought it'd be nice.
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It is, [Vergil confirms with a nod.] It rounds out my collection of Blake, and is a good start to the others.
[Dante had taken issue with Vergil's refusal to really acquire much by way of things for himself. He had been here for nine months on his own, and hadn't taken the liberty to acquire his own books, contenting himself with borrowing copies from the library for as much as he needed or wanted. Frankly, Vergil still finds it a bit silly to concern himself with gathering books when he will not likely be able to take them with him when he leaves this place someday. Folkmore is, after all, just stop along the way back to the human world and by far not Vergil's final destination. But he won't deny that it's been...nice. To have copies that are his own again. Even if he finds himself in disagreement with Dante's logic overall, he can see some semblance of a point to it now that he's had a few more tangible things to call his own after being so long without beyond the clothes on his back and the Yamato.]
I'm surprised you didn't take the chance to read some of it before gifting it to me. You were getting quite good at making the books seem untouched at the apartment.
[Nero's been a little busted as far as reading Vergil's books is concerned for a while now, but it's only now that Vergil's chosen to acknowledge it openly.]
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He's taking a sip of water when Vergil slyly suggests he could have read it beforehand, and mentions his prior, secretive snooping around the books at the apartment. Now that they live in Vergil's room he's not touched them much. But it's not really that he was sneaking them...
He swallows gingerly.] I tried to. Same as I tried all your other poetry books. [He purses his lips a bit, then shrugs a little sheepishly.] Afraid they all make the same amount of sense to me. Which is, not much. But I've never been a real great reader when it comes to the fancy stuff.
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Out of curiosity, did you ever read them aloud or were you only reading them in your head?
[He idly smooths down a tuft of Nero's hair.]
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["Words pretty I guess" is most of what Nero has ever gotten out of reading poetry. Except he managed to find that one Blake poem while he was flipping through, it was short enough to read over it enough times to realize it would be a really nice, heartfelt spot to leave his envelope full of baby pictures.]
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[There's a slight furrow in Vergil's brow as he tries to think of how to illustrate his point perhaps a little more clearly.]
It would be akin to reading the lyrics of a song you like, but never once listening to the song itself. You would lose the rhythm of the words and vocal quality and technique of the singer as well as the instrumentation and musical composition meant to heighten the emotion and intent behind the lyrics. The words could still bear meaning just reading them plainly written, but you wouldn't experience it to the fullness that it was meant to be experienced.
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Okay, Nerd.
[He's smirking though, with a playful nudge back of his elbow lest Vergil think he's actually making fun of him to be mean.]
That makes sense though. I'm not inclined to read aloud when I don't know what half the words are, but that does make sense.
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Something to consider then, if you should choose to try to read them again.
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Nero isn't trying to be dismissive though. He simply never thought about reading aloud, not least of all because he's not sure how to pronounce some of those words. The idea of being overheard fumbling through a poem uneases him more than being caught squinting and struggling ever did.
After a moment, and with another sip of water to bolster his courage, he makes a suggestion.]
Maybe you could read some to me, sometime.
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[But Nero is honest perhaps to a fault, and it is not truly within his character to say anything he does not mean.]
[Vergil nods a little.]
If you'd like.
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But that's chased off once he agrees, and Nero nods back, unintentionally echoing his movement.]
I have trouble reading 'em on the page. So maybe hearing them, they'll make more sense.
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[Thus neither as long nor complicated as Paradise Lost in their presentation and far more straightforward.]
They are where I began when I first took an interest.
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He turns his head and blinks up at Vergil as though gauging him for something. Then he takes another sip of water before actually going for it.]
Read one to me.
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Any particular requests?
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He does cooperate in moving as much as necessary to let Vergil fetch his book. Gives him a chance to lie back with his head on Vergil's lap again, holding his water glass atop his stomach and watching what liquid remains jostle as he breathes.]
Something you like a lot. Preach it to me.
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[Vergil knows the poem well enough that he truly does not need to look at the page the entire time to recite it, but he keeps his eyes there rather than looking to Nero. It's only when the poem is at its end that he looks back down to Nero in his lap after a brief moment to let the last of it settle.]
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He's quiet for a moment after Vergil finishes, eyes closed. Then he opens them to find his father gazing down at him, almost expectantly.]
You have a good voice for that. [First thing that comes to mind for him to say, for some reason. He smiles.] I liked it.
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I take it that means it made more sense to you than reading it for yourself?
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[Nero mildly bristles a little, for a moment, and hurries to clarify.] Not that I can't read, or whatever, but... it's easier for me to listen.
There was a big lawn like that at the orphanage, so... I can picture it really clearly.
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I'm glad to hear it, [he says, closing the book and setting it down on the bed beside him.]
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He watches the book get put away and squirms a little.] Is that all I get? Just the one?
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...Would you like me to keep reading?
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Yeah. You were reading anyway... and maybe it'll help me not have nightmares.
I mean... if you don't mind.
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Alright, [he says, a little quieter than he meant to be. Vergil picks the book back up, but before he opens it, he nods to the glass Nero is still balancing on himself in his hands.] Are you through with that?
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Once the glass is empty he hands it over and fails at not looking terribly pleased with this scenario as he lies back down, settling in and smiling up at Vergil.]
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