[Honestly? She doesn't know where to start. She watches Vergil carefully, like a rabbit eyeing up a fox, not sure whether to bolt back to the bedroom and Nero as a buffer or to stay right where she is. She wonders whether or not someone as powerful as Vergil has increased hearing because if he does, she's certain he'll be able to hear her heart thundering in her chest.
Calm. Calm.
Thankfully, the first apology is something she can easily offer forgiveness for and she lets a little of the tension leave her shoulders as she answers.]
I understand why you would do that and I don't think I can fault you for keeping that to yourself when we met. You wanted me to trust you and get me home, you looked out for me and I'm grateful for that kindness. Thank you.
[She's proud of herself for being able to stay calm and confident in her answer, even if she feels the complete opposite. Her tone is polite and she does mean what she says. She accepts that apology.
There's a crease in Vergil's brow that's all too familiar, even if she's never seen it on him before. He's anxious and she knows it too well from years of watching Nero.
It's somewhat comforting to see that Vergil's nervous. It's humanizing.
For all that he's matter-of-fact, there's something defensive about his words and she listens, her hands by her side, expression neutral. Something about this reminds her of being before a particularly strict teacher or an instructor, that her opinion at this point is insignificant and that she should listen and there will be consequences she may not like should she interrupt. So she listens, hearing him tell her that he doesn't expect her to accept his words and that he doesn't understand Nero's ability to forgive him and she finds herself wanting to laugh bitterly at that.
Nero embodies everything she was brought up to believe was holy. The Order may have fallen but her faith in what it was founded on, on the belief in a good world whose foundations lay in the example set by Vergil's own father for what it meant to fight for humanity, that faith has never shaken. She has to believe in the goodness in something, and it helps when people like Nero and Dante and all those who fight for the same thing exist to protect it. Listening to him now, talking about Nero's capacity for love, she suspects that he's probably right. He amazes her, and after last night, listening to him pour his heart out to her about the complicated journey he's been on to reach this point with his father, she's humbled by the strength and resilience of him anew.
Kyrie glances at her feet and tucks her hair behind her ears.]
I will listen to what you have to say and I won't interrupt, but I would like to ask that you offer me the same courtesy with whatever I have to say in response, and answer any questions I might have truthfully. Does that sound like a fair exchange?
no subject
Calm. Calm.
Thankfully, the first apology is something she can easily offer forgiveness for and she lets a little of the tension leave her shoulders as she answers.]
I understand why you would do that and I don't think I can fault you for keeping that to yourself when we met. You wanted me to trust you and get me home, you looked out for me and I'm grateful for that kindness. Thank you.
[She's proud of herself for being able to stay calm and confident in her answer, even if she feels the complete opposite. Her tone is polite and she does mean what she says. She accepts that apology.
There's a crease in Vergil's brow that's all too familiar, even if she's never seen it on him before. He's anxious and she knows it too well from years of watching Nero.
It's somewhat comforting to see that Vergil's nervous. It's humanizing.
For all that he's matter-of-fact, there's something defensive about his words and she listens, her hands by her side, expression neutral. Something about this reminds her of being before a particularly strict teacher or an instructor, that her opinion at this point is insignificant and that she should listen and there will be consequences she may not like should she interrupt. So she listens, hearing him tell her that he doesn't expect her to accept his words and that he doesn't understand Nero's ability to forgive him and she finds herself wanting to laugh bitterly at that.
Nero embodies everything she was brought up to believe was holy. The Order may have fallen but her faith in what it was founded on, on the belief in a good world whose foundations lay in the example set by Vergil's own father for what it meant to fight for humanity, that faith has never shaken. She has to believe in the goodness in something, and it helps when people like Nero and Dante and all those who fight for the same thing exist to protect it. Listening to him now, talking about Nero's capacity for love, she suspects that he's probably right. He amazes her, and after last night, listening to him pour his heart out to her about the complicated journey he's been on to reach this point with his father, she's humbled by the strength and resilience of him anew.
Kyrie glances at her feet and tucks her hair behind her ears.]
I will listen to what you have to say and I won't interrupt, but I would like to ask that you offer me the same courtesy with whatever I have to say in response, and answer any questions I might have truthfully. Does that sound like a fair exchange?