[Normally, spending the night with Mizu means a later start to his day. Or, well, a later official start to his day. Both of them still wake around the same time as they would without the other, but Vergil's tendency is to linger with Mizu in bed for just a little longer. He needn't come up with excuses for it, of course, but he supplies her with a seemingly endless list of them anyways. None of them are believable as viable reasons to loiter about in bed, and whatever arguments she makes are just as flimsy as his excuses. But this morning, he woke to a message from Nero that he hardly knows how to process beyond feeling his heart drop to his stomach.]
[He knew better than to believe that Kyrie's ignorance would last long. Nero is nothing if not honest, and she would want answers from Nero to questions she likely hadn't felt comfortable prying into during her time with Vergil sooner rather than later. But still, an uneasiness settled over him quickly alongside a destroyed, stupid hope that he might have had a little longer with her before needing to delve into such matters.]
[He stays in bed only long enough for Mizu's eyes to also open. Much as he doesn't need to explain the reasons for staying in bed, neither does he really need to explain why he must go this morning, but he does anyways. She understood and he drew some comfort from that understanding, but it dissipated before the train even reached the mountains.]
[He's frozen now. Just outside the front door, hand slightly raised from by his side to reach for the doorknob. He flexes his fingers a few times, trying to will his arm to raise just a little further so he can get his hand on the doorknob and then he can set about willing his legs to move forward and take those steps forward. Nothing really works as far as tricking himself into doing it, not even trying to assure himself that he may still yet possess a few hours because Kyrie isn't likely awake yet given that she was seemingly coming down with a cold and whatever...the night's activities entailed. It's frustrating if not altogether maddening just how difficult the task of opening the door feels. Vergil glares at the doorknob as though it committed some sort of personal offense towards him before closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath. Holding it for a just a second or two, Vergil opens his eyes and slowly lets the breath go as he opens the door and steps inside to the quiet house.]
[Looking across from the entryway to the other side of the living room, he sees that Nero's (and now Kyrie's) bedroom door is closed. He breathes a small sigh of relief as he steps into the living room with the intention of turning towards his own bedroom except... Vergil stops where he is. There's a pair of eyes on him. He stands ramrod straight and still save the slight turn of his head. She's not in his peripheral vision, but he knows she's standing there somewhere in vicinity of the kitchen.]
[He walks to the couch rather than his bedroom, setting Yamato to lean against it before turning towards kitchen. Vergil looks at the floor rather than into the kitchen proper, resting his hand on the back of the couch, brushing and picking at imaginary dirt to keep from fidgeting any further.]
[Despite being completely exhausted and sleeping quite deeply when sleep finally found her, Kyrie is an instinctual early riser and finds herself awake long before Nero, who was conked out beside her with his arm draped over her waist, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being watched intently and adoringly by his girlfriend as he slept.
Eventually, she finds herself feeling restless and thirsty and manages to ease her way out of Nero's embrace, brushing the ghost of a kiss across his lips as she leaves the bed. Unsure of who's home, she dresses before heading to the kitchen to make some tea, readopting Nero's hoodie from the night before as a way of keeping him with her until he wakes up again. It's almost like wearing a hug, and she knows for a fact he will tease her for being a complete softie but she will certainly give as good as she gets if it happens.
She sets the kettle to boil as she begins searching as quietly as she can for teacups and teabags. Everything in the kitchen seems to be arranged in a sensible, logical way and she soon finds herself nursing a cup of Earl Grey and lemon, hoping it will soothe the scratchy throat she's woken up with and make her feel a bit less fuzzy headed. The house is quiet, not a soul besides herself is stirring and she enjoys the peace, savouring the aroma of her tea and the way the rosy morning light begins to brighten as the sun climbs.
And then she hears the door open and someone walk in.
It becomes apparent fairly soon who it is.
Kyrie is frozen to the spot, her eyes laser focused on Vergil as he moves into the space and then stops and straightens. Her stomach feels like it's tied in knots and she finds herself fighting the urge to abandon her tea and bolt back to the safety of her room and Nero where she won't have to deal with this. It's too soon, she doesn't know how to put her thoughts in order, let alone confront the very complicated feelings the revelations of the night before have brought out.
This man is Nero's father, and not so long ago (to her) he tore his son's arm off and left him to die on the floor of their garage.
It would be easier to pretend she doesn't know, to let herself observe and come to her own conclusions before she has that conversation and she's all but resolved to play it that way, but then Vergil speaks and that option is taken away from her.
He said you wished to hear me out.
It says something that Nero has already been in touch with him. She's not sure when that happened, how it had escaped her notice, and she has a brief, uncomfortable feeling like jealousy that there's someone else that Nero is sharing their conversations with. Immediately she berates herself for that; she's been so lucky to be foremost in Nero's affections for so long that she's just going to have to get used to sharing him with someone else he loves. It will be an adjustment.
At least she hasn't tried to kill him.
Again, she's appalled at how prickly her thoughts feel.
She hates confrontation, she hates getting into the weeds with something she doesn't know how to overcome, and this just might be one of the weediest patches she's found herself in.
She sets her tea aside, draws herself upright and takes a deep breath, trying very hard to keep her voice steady. Somehow this is even more intimidating that singing in front of a whole congregation; at least then there had been words and a melody to follow. No one has written a score for this.]
That's right. I do.
[She takes the steady delivery of her words without a single tremor to be a small win. Who knows how long it will last?]
[Unlike Kyrie, Vergil has had ample time and opportunity to think about this conversation, to organize his thoughts and words into something as close to palatable as they can be. But he imagined the circumstances to be different than this. He didn't envision Kyrie being here at all, but especially not him being the one to find her if she were to show up. Vergil swallows thickly as he debates where exactly to start.]
I apologize for not saying anything before. You do not owe me any benefit of the doubt, but I was not looking to hide or otherwise obfuscate anything from you out of some malicious intent. [Vergil lifts his gaze to her then, hand stilling on the back of the couch.] I... [He glances away briefly again, looking to the closed door of Nero and Kyrie's bedroom before he looks back at her.] I was focused on returning you to Nero, and did not want you to give you cause to be afraid of me in pursuit of that end.
[And he still does not want her to be afraid of him. There's a crease in his brow, but his expression is not one stemming from anger or defensiveness. Vergil guards as much of his expression as he can, but his anxiety about all of this isn't something he's able to suppress entirely. Even if he does not exactly slouch or shrink himself into a smaller presence, Vergil still keeps his distance, remaining near to the couch rather than stepping closer to her.]
I also wish to...preface...my explanation that it is not my expectation that anything I say will be...satisfactory to you. Nero has forgiven me and chose to build trust within our relationship. But I can assure you that I do not understand his forgiveness any better than you likely do beyond that Nero's capacity for love runs far deeper than any of us should ever likely come to possess. Thus, I hold no anticipation that you should offer me the same forgiveness or willingness to build trust as he did. [He stops short of making some offer to keep his distance if only because... He can't. There was a time when Vergil would have readily accepted it if Nero hated him. If Nero made the demand that Vergil keep his distance and leave him be, he would have done as he was told regardless of how much his heart would have ached at the loss over someone and something he never truly knew. But now? He would not look at Kyrie as an obstacle per se and certainly wouldn't take actions to remove her as one. But he would still fight like hell to have his son, to have something of what they have still remain even at a more controlled distance.] What you do in light of what I say is ultimately your decision. And that is my only intention here and now regardless of what I would prefer as an outcome.
[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?
[It's not reflected in his expression at all, but Vergil is pleased when she accepts the first apology. Kyrie is an emotional young woman, that much is absolutely for certain, but she doesn't appear to be unreasonable in Vergil's experience of her thus far. Still, it's encouraging to know that she understands his need to be more pragmatic rather than immediately the most honest with her in the beginning, and it's good that she recognizes his intentions were not based in intentional deception for the sake of it or for his own benefit. He nods slightly at the boundaries she sets in how they will talk about this.]
Yes.
[It's fair. And it means it will be far less likely that uglier emotions will slip from him as it had that day with Nero. It still all worked out with Nero despite, but... Vergil was far less confident that would be the case with Kyrie. He tugs a little at his collar as he steps around to sit on the couch. Or, more accurately, he perches on the very edge of a couch cushion, holding his hand in front of himself with his elbows rested on his knees. He draws a few deep breaths, silent for the moment as he organizes his thoughts and tries to find the best place to begin. Nero said he told Kyrie everything, but there are things Nero does not know—things Vergil does not wish to speak of to anyone—and Nero likely holds his own biases as far as what he feels is important to be shared.]
I am not certain what exactly Nero said to you, but given that you're willing to hear me out, I imagine he told you I was dying when I attacked him. [Vergil draws another steadying breath before saying,] I had spent nearly the entirety of Nero's life in the Underworld. The specifics of what happened there matters little beyond that I was rapidly running out of time when I attacked Nero for the Yamato. I did not know who he was to me, but even if I had, I do not know I would have been in the state of mind to see more than an obstacle standing in the way of my survival.
[Vergil knows acknowledging that piece of information is not liable to win him any favors with Kyrie, but it was the honest truth he provided Nero when they discussed this before. He cannot provide a detail like that to Nero, but keep it from Kyrie.]
My intention was solely to reclaim the Yamato as quickly as possible before I lost the strength to wield it. Whether Nero lived or died at the time was of no consequence to me. [Vergil shakes his head a little and lifts his gaze back up to Kyrie.] I have not and will not apologize for prioritizing or desiring my survival. But there shall never be a day that goes by that I do not regret the harm I inflicted on Nero. Regardless of my reasons for it, the truth remains that I selfishly maimed him and left him to die.
[Swallowing thickly, Vergil's gaze drops to the floor for a moment before he makes himself look at her again. He doesn't particularly want to with the amount of shame and guilt that rise up within him, that will always be with him every time he thinks of that day in the garage when he stole the Yamato back. Nero has forgiven him. But Vergil? Vergil hasn't forgiven himself. He doesn't really think it's possible. The only thing he can do is not allow himself to dwell on it in such a way that he would chance missing out on what's in front of him. They moved past it. Together. But there's another sense of shame and guilt that comes up when he looks at Kyrie now, one that he doesn't know right now if he will be able to move past with her. A potential fact that he only has himself to blame for as much as he wishes there was something or someone else to heap it onto.]
I still almost took him away from you. And for that, I am sorry, Kyrie. [He purses his lips slightly.] I know what it is to have a loved one violently ripped away from you and to find yourself alone. It's... [Words fail him that Vergil almost feels he doesn't even know what he was about to say. He shakes his head a little, dismissing whatever the rest of that sentence would have been as unimportant and not the point.] I had no right to place you that fear within you that day, let alone possibly make you live through it. You did not deserve that any more than the physical harm Nero had to endure at my hand.
["...an obstacle standing in the way of my survival."
How strange, Kyrie thinks, that someone can look at another person and think of them not as a being with a soul and hopes and dreams and a will to live, but as an obstacle. It's even stranger to her that someone could think that way about Nero, the strongest person she knows. To just overlook him like that... how strong must Vergil be to be that assured of his own prowess, even while dying?
She knows. She knows from the stains she still can't scrub from the concrete even after months and buckets of bleach.
How broken a soul was he for him to admit that even if he had known Nero's relation to him, it would have likely made little difference to him?
It feels strangely impersonal and detached from the situation to be standing away from him but she's frozen where she stands, listening intently, her own expression schooled into as calm a face as she can muster. So much of what he says makes her blood boil and her fingers curl up into fists, the edges of her nails digging into her palms to keep her from breaking her word and interjecting in her anger.
He says he knows what it is to lose a love one. To feel alone. She's fortunate that through all her losses, through each heartbreak she's had to face in her life, she's never been alone. She's always had that one constant by her side from the time they were very small, always looking out for her, always protecting her and soothing away her pain. The pain of losing her parents, losing Credo, Nero's been with her throughout it all. And it's not just her, he's been there for their foster boys, for Kyle and Julio and Carlo. He's their hero. Their funny little found family depends on him as the protector, the goofball with terrible jokes, the one who throws a ball about in the yard, the one who checks for monsters under Julio's bed and promises to take out anything that comes out of the shadows. How would those children cope losing another parental figure? Kyrie's lived through that pain Vergil speaks of before, but it's only because of Nero that she's been able to survive it.
She still feels sick to the stomach at the thought of having to endure that agony without him.
True to her word, she holds her tongue and her place and continues to watch Vergil, waiting to hear if there's more to come.]
[Logically and rationally, Vergil knows that it's better that Kyrie is remaining true to her word in allowing him to say all that he needs to say without interruption. Saving her questions or... Remarks, he tells himself against the impulsive, emotionally-driven assumption that insults or attacks would be a more apt description. It's better that she's doing this and affording him the opportunity to lay everything out, say everything that he feels is important to say. But emotionally, it feels like hell to see such a generally blank slate before him. To be left stewing in his own assumptions about what she must be thinking and feeling without anything to serve as contradiction or confirmation. Vergil's mouth runs dry and for all that he told himself before that he would look her in the eye during the entirety of this conversation, he can't. Yet again. And he feels smaller for it being again rather than for the first time in this conversation that his gaze has torn away from her.]
[He sits back in his seat, but does not sit as upright as he possibly could. It's not like on the bench in the station or train where Vergil held such obvious command of the space he occupies even as he rests his hands on his knees. He's quiet for just a moment longer, drawing a breath to speak while looking at the closed bedroom door.]
I told Nero once that he is the only good I've ever put into the world. I meant it, and knowing him better now than I did at the time, I still do. [Vergil's brow furrows as he continues looking at Nero's bedroom door, not out of consternation so much as in an attempt at containing his emotions enough that he may speak as evenly as possible. To some degree, it's impossible. Vergil's voice comes out smaller, but all the softer, gentler.] The moment I knew the truth of who he was to me, Nero became my world and I have loved him more than I've ever allowed myself to love anyone. That child is more precious to me than anything or anyone else has ever been or likely will be. There is nothing that I would be unwilling to do or sacrifice for his sake. I would sooner give my life than allow a single hair upon his head to be harmed, never mind be the one to inflict such harm upon him ever again.
I told him as much months ago. I don't know if Nero told you that, but I promised and I have maintained that promise even when it would have been to my benefit not to do so.
[Vergil finally pulls his gaze away from the bedroom door to look at Kyrie again.]
I have no interest in arguing that you ought to give me a chance, to find some part of me redeemable enough or my apologies sincere enough that your opinion of me might yet someday favor me. But I do wish for it to be clear to you before we are done here today that I would be lost without Nero. Even if he decided not to give me a chance, refused to forgive me and hated me instead for the myriad of reasons I have given him to hate and refuse me, that would not change. I would endure it, and still love and seek to protect him as I do now even at a distance.
So, the promise I made to him is the same promise I am making to you here and now: I shall never intentionally and knowingly bring about harm to Nero.
[Even if Kyrie cannot trust him by the end of this hashing out and clarifying matters, Vergil wants for her to trust in the love he has for Nero persists no matter the circumstances. It's an unconditional love, the sort that Vergil believes wholeheartedly Nero deserves. It does not matter what Nero says or does, if he has a relationship with Vergil or not. Nor does it matter what Thirteen or anyone else may attempt to offer in lieu of maintaining his promise to Nero. Vergil will still love him, and that love will never allow for Vergil to do anything but act within Nero's best interests.]
[He leaves it there for her to do with the silence as she sees fit, whether it is to prolong or break it.]
[For some reason, despite coming into this conversation with no idea how she was going to feel or respond to whatever Vergil had to say to her, Kyrie had somehow been expecting honesty and forthrightness. She had expected the facts to be laid before her and in the light of day, she would be given the opportunity to make her decision about Nero's father.
Whatever that was.
She hadn't been expecting quite such a degree of candor, a display of emotion in the matter-of-fact way he puts into words how he feels about his son.
Nero became my world and I have loved him more than I've ever allowed myself to love anyone.
It seems here, for certain, they find common ground.
And she does believe him. She can see, standing like a statue and watching him pour his heart out to her, that this degree of emotion is something he's not used to displaying, he looks uncomfortable and as ready to bolt as she feels and here too is common ground. This is a conversation it would be easier not to have, to build a friendship, a family and pretend this had never happened, but she stands by what she had told Nero the night before. She needed to know. If it had come out later, after she'd allowed herself to welcome him into her heart as family, the hurt would be that much deeper.
And if this whole uncomfortable exchange was just about proving that he was worthy of being Nero's father and proving his love for him, this would be enough. She believes that he is sorry, she believes that he truly and deeply regrets attacking and maiming the man she loves - the man they both love- and leaving him for dead on the garage floor. She believes him and Nero believes him, and honestly having Nero in his corner was a weighty enough endorsement that already strengthened Vergil's footing in this.
But Nero isn't the only person he's hurt. Mutilating him, though it nearly brought Kyrie's world crashing down upon her and came dangerously close to fracturing her heart beyond repair, was really just the tip of the iceberg, wasn't it?
Because there was Red Grave. There were the thousands of people who had been killed - she had listened with growing horror to the news bulletins and tried desperately hard not to dwell, not to picture the worst, not to go out of her mind and continue to put on a brave face for the boys. There was all of that, caused by a demon who had unleashed chaos and death and despair on such a scale that it made what had ruined Fortuna look like a casual mishap. That had been Vergil's handiwork, or at least some part of him. He had accomplished that by tearing off Nero's arm, seizing the Yamato, and quite literally raising hell on earth.
There was no part in his apology about that.
And she understands, because at the heart of it all, in their shared love for Nero, they're both a little selfish. Their worlds are small, and at the center of them both, burning brightly enough for them to revolve around, sits Nero - who would be acutely embarrassed to hear himself described in such terms. That's the crux, he's the glue that is binding them together. Nero loves his father. Kyrie loves Nero. She will never, never ask him to choose between them, she will shoulder even the worst discomfort with a smile on her face if it means his happiness, and she will sit there and hold him together if, for some reason, this whole thing goes horribly awry.
But she still doesn't know who this man is. If he's a man at all.
She knows he's more than a mere man. Sparda wasn't even a man, but where it counted? He was more. Nero is more.
Is Vergil?
The silence draws on, Kyrie realises that he is waiting for her to break the silence and she does, exhaling heavily. She doesn't move from her place, nor make any effort to make herself more comfortable.]
Thank you. Is there anything more you'd like to say?
[Throughout the silence, Vergil remains more or less still. He watches her, but it's not with the same sort of scrutiny he tends to employ with others. He's not assessing Kyrie for what she may try to do to harm him—there's nothing she could possibly do physically to him anyways—so much as looking for any tell that might allow him to know what she is thinking and feeling with all of this. (Not that his insight could ever likely be anything greater than something trending toward negative or positive.) But Kyrie provides him with nothing in her attempts to remain calm and neutral, and he fears that he may be staring. So, Vergil looks away again and allows her the privacy of her thoughts. Something he realizes he perhaps should have provided her from the beginning...]
[Her sigh causes him to jerk slightly. Not exactly a full startle—he's too acutely aware of her presence for that—but enough that it's plain his attention isn't as keenly trained on her as it perhaps could be. Vergil lifts his gaze to her again.]
[He shakes his head slightly to her question. It surprisingly doesn't spark an impatience within him, but that is probably likely due to the anxiety that feels as though it will swallow him whole should it grow any larger.]
[Kyrie nods silently, her jaw tense. She moves slightly, just enough to clasp her hands together before her as she glances down at her feet, gathering her thoughts.
Where does she even begin to put everything in order here?]
I believe you. I believe you're sorry for what you did to Nero, I believe that you love him and I know that he loves you. I believe that you will never willingly hurt him again and I am truly grateful to hear you say that.
[She looks up, giving him the courtesy of her full focus, as she had done when she listened, and tries not to let her nerves appear on her face. Her heart has not stopped thundering since this conversation began.]
I don't need to tell you- [She pauses, trying to calm the tremble that has manifested in her voice. She doesn't need to tell Vergil how awful it was to find Nero in that garage. He knows what he had left in the wake of his attack. She tries a different tangent.]
Did Nero ever tell you that I am an orphan, and my brother is dead?
[He's aware of the degree of relief he hears in knowing that she believes him. That relief, however, is thoroughly tempered by the unspoken but. Rather than sinking into a sense of relief that she understands, that she knows his intentions toward Nero are thoroughly rested within his best interest, Vergil braces himself for what is to follow. Part of him wishes she would just say it. To make it as quick and painless of a thing for them both. But matters are too complicated for something like that. So, he brushes aside those feelings of relief, lest they create the illusion he is somehow walking into a trap, and merely braces himself for what is to come.]
He did. [Vergil hesitates for a moment, uncertain if he should say more of what he knows to spare her having to recount it, or if he should let it be and allow her to speak. He errs on the side of the former, so that if there is more she must say, it need only be what he does not already know.] He told me your brother raised you after your parents died, and he explained some of the circumstances surrounding your brother's death to me.
[Vergil chooses to leave out mention of how Nero blames himself for Credo's death, or the context in which Vergil learned this information had been over a nightmare involving reliving a form of that death and loss again. It's not likely anything Kyrie doesn't already know or couldn't speculate correctly for herself, but it's irrelevant. Vergil also wisely keeps whatever judgments he's made of Credo's betrayal of Nero to himself and allows her to speak.]
[Kyrie nods again, glad that she can get straight to the crux of the matter without explanation.]
So then you'll understand when I tell you that Nero is the only person in this whole world who shares my past with me. He's the only person left who remembers my parents, remembers my brother, and all the happy times we had before- before those times were gone.
[She looks searchingly at him, earnest in her hope that her words are resonating with him.]
If I had lost him... I would have lost my family all over again. I would have lost my present. Every dream I have for the future, a home, babies, grandchildren some day, those would have gone too. And maybe I would have gone on, I would have held it together somehow for the sake of the boys, but I wouldn't really have been living. Because how can you live without your heart?
[Her voice becomes stronger, the tremor non-existent. This is getting easier as she goes on and she's not sure how this will end.]
Your son... is the most incredible, kind, thoughtful, brave, compassionate man I have ever had the privilege to know. He amazes me every day with his strength, his capacity to do good, his willingness to endanger himself just to protect others. Every day I get to wake up beside him I thank whatever higher power there might be out there that I get to love him and have him in my life and that Nero, for some reason, loves me back. And I love that after all this time, you've found each other and he gets to be loved by his own family, the way he has always deserved to be! I really, truly cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am that he means as much to you as does, nothing could make me happier than knowing that your son is loved by his father.
[But it's here that she pauses, and takes a deep breath to steel herself for the question she knows she has to ask.]
But when you attacked Nero, the love of my life, he was just a stranger to you, an obstacle standing in the way of your survival. I know you are sorry for that. What I want to know is... would you still be sorry for what you did if Nero wasn't your son?
[Vergil draws a breath to speak, and gets so far as parting his lips, but in the end, he hesitates. He knows the truth, but he cannot pretend it is anything other than something she is bound to find unacceptable if not outright reprehensible.]
Were he not my kin... [he begins, slowly.] I can only speculate. What harms I've done to others has never been any more my intention than it was my intention specifically to harm Nero. [Vergil knows that does not make it better or somehow more acceptable, and does not state it as though making a case for it. It's a simple explanation of consequence versus intention.] In the past, I've always seen as a natural consequence. Those strong enough to protect themselves and what's theirs survive. Those too weak to protect themselves or anything else simply die or bear their losses.
I... [He purses his lips briefly.] A lot has changed since then. But I would not claim that I feel guilt or shame over my previous wrongs to faceless strangers as acutely as I feel for what I've done to Nero.
[Even if he wanted to dwell that much on any of them, Vergil is certain he couldn't when he has to set aside the guilt he feels for Nero, only allowing it at times, so that he can continue to step forward with him. It would paralyze him at best, kill him at worst.]
So, were he just a stranger... [Vergil inhales deeply albeit a little shakily through his nose and lets out a soft exhale.] I doubt I would have spared much thought to him.
[Whether she finds it reprehensible or not, there it is. The truth.]
[The words hit her like a thud, so much so that she could swear she actually heard them hit. (Little does she know on the other side of the bedroom door, Nero's skull has connected with the door in dismay.) In truth, she suspected this would be the answer, had braced for it, but it doesn't hurt to hear it any less.
If Nero had been anyone else's child, he'd have just been another victim of a person who could callously strike down another in cold blood and move on without thinking anything of it, or the damage following in the wake of such action. Tossed aside and never thought of again.
Kyrie sets her jaw, her lips thinning in a visible display of discomfort.
It hurts to know that at the time, maiming Nero had been nothing more than collateral to him, and she does genuinely feel that the knowledge of that pains this enigma of a man standing in front of her. It still doesn't bring her as much comfort as she'd hoped.]
Then my next question is this: you just said 'in the past.'
[It was a sliver of something, something that she's not about to let slide. She hopes her intuition is about to steer her wrong.]
Are you trying to say that you would act differently now?
[It's the most emotion Kyrie has shown since the beginning of this... Well, Vergil somewhat hesitates to call it a discussion. They are taking their turns in speaking, questions followed by answers. But until that bit of emotion makes its way into Kyrie's expression, it hasn't felt much like Kyrie was communicating in return. Yes, she indicated she accepts what he has to say and that she trusts Nero and Vergil's profession that their relationship has been a good thing to be true, but... It's given little insight into what she's thinking and feeling about any of it. But that barest change in her expression puts a put in his stomach, sends his heart rocketing down low.]
[Vergil purses his lips as she picks at his words. No matter how even she speaks, how gentle her voice, it begins to feel more an interrogation. Especially as he does not know how to explain any of this to this...stranger when he can barely speak of it to those he holds close, if he can even manage to speak of it at all in the first place. There's a harder to look to Vergil's eyes as he looks at Kyrie, studies her. It's not the freezing glare of his temper arising, ready to lash out in anger. But it's a blatant defensive wariness. Whatever assumptions Kyrie may have held about Vergil's reserved temperament, his difficulties with emotional vulnerability most likely come to prove themselves in the way he regards her. Vergil's fingers curl against his pantlegs tightly, the fabric serving as a buffer to keep blunt nails from digging into his palms.]
[He draws a steadying breath, releasing the tension in his hands, but not the furrow in his brow.]
I am saying that I lived as a devil before. Now, I am trying to live as a man.
[The steel in Vergil's gaze makes Kyrie instinctively want to shrink beneath its scrutiny and start to backpedal furiously. This kind of conversation makes her feel so incredibly uncomfortable, but she's not about to back down. She's not a fighter, but she has to fight for this. She has to get her answers if she's going to make an informed decision.
It takes every ounce of resolve not to flinch when the very slight motion of Vergil curling his fists into his pants catches her eye. She's upset him and the adrenaline pulses through her veins; does he have a temper? Does it spark and catch flame the way Nero's does? Does she want to imagine what it would be like to make Vergil truly angry?
No. Not even a little.
But then his answer comes on the tail of a deep breath and a furrowed brow and she finds herself surprised by the simplicity of the answer. So few words, so much said.
[It should perhaps be an easy question to answer. There is an obvious binary to it after all. Either he's successful or he's not. However...]
It's not as simple as that.
[Vergil would like to give her a straightforward, simple answer of yes or no. But a response in either direction would be a misrepresentation of what it is to walk the path he does now.]
I will concede that I am not a full-blooded demon. There is and always has been something inside me that has always made me more prone to think and feel in ways not dissimilar from full-blooded humans. But I grew accustomed to not merely ignoring it. I refused to recognize it as part of me at all. Casting it aside altogether became second nature. [Until he went to such extreme lengths as to excise it from him completely, but Vergil does not bring that up now. He merely looks to a spot on the floor somewhere in the vast amount of space between them, the furrow in his brow deepening as though he were lost in thought.] I no longer choose that, but it is still a choice for me.
[A messy and, at times, complicated choice, but a choice nonetheless. Vergil raises his gaze again after a brief pause.]
And I cannot ignore the fact there are still days and times that I yearn for when I chose to ignore it. When I doubt my own resolve.
And yet, the fact I cannot comfortably say to you that I am now more man than devil does not lead me to stop trying.
[So, it's not a matter of whether it is working or not. Not when it's impossible to envision the possibility of an endpoint where it is no longer a choice. Vergil doesn't believe it can ever be that way for him, not after everything. Instead, it's a matter of daily, sometimes momentary choice as Vergil implied with his answer that prompted this question from Kyrie in the first place.]
I recognize this may be an unsatisfactory answer to your question, but it is the truth. As best I know it to be.
[A part of Kyrie realises that the question she asked was never going to have a simple answer. Being human is anything but simple. It is to fight and toil and struggle and suffer, to feel things deeply and intensely, to be afraid and to be weak. It's to fight and keep fighting even in the face of impossible odds. To accept that being human is to be perfectly imperfect and finding ways to grow from that. She can see how much easier it would be to embrace that part of him that is so much stronger and detached from the struggles of the mere human, to be unmoved and unbothered by weakness and attachments.
But is it really stronger?
She knows she's just a weak, sheltered girl brought up believing lies, but she believes still in the inherent goodness that Sparda must have stood for, must have believed in with his soul to turn his back on his race and protect the weaklings who walked the earth. She wonders how much of her belief is fiction, and wonders if one day she will ever feel comfortable enough with Vergil and Dante to ask for the truth about their father. It's hard to accept that he was flesh and blood and not a god, but here's the proof standing in front of her.
Admitting that there is work to be done, that Vergil is still not content in his own skin, is a human enough answer to show her that his efforts are not in vain.]
I wouldn't call it an unsatisfactory answer. I'd say it was very honest.
[It is. As is he. Unflinchingly so.
She is quiet and still for a moment, thoughtful and worried about how to proceed. There's still a myriad scenarios she's concerned about, and the part of her that yearns to shield Nero from harm is still unsettled and snarling, not sure if it's safe to drop her guard.
She takes a deep breath.]
I accept and appreciate your apology. But...
[She looks at him carefully, her face showing just how deeply troubled and saddened she is by everything she has learned in the last twenty four hours.]
Please understand when I say I need more time to decide if I forgive you for it. I- I'm just not sure I fully know how I feel. I want to- I don't want to-
[She stops, not wanting to babble or let her mouth run away and say something indelicate as she struggles to find the words to voice how she feels. This man, and his importance to Nero, isn't something she can trample roughshod over for the sake of making everybody feel better immediately, only for her to change her mind.]
I want to make the right decision and I need time to think. The last thing I want to do is cause anyone any more pain than they've already had to experience. I think all three of us deserve that.
[Hope is among one of the worst emotions one can have, Vergil realizes. It rises quickly with the faintest glimmer only to be smothered even quicker, leaving behind a hollow feeling where it used to be. She accepts his apology insomuch that she believes it to be true, but. That word. But. Whatever feeling of hope in his chest dashes itself upon the rocks of that word, and while Vergil does not deflate, does not reveal how cold his blood runs, how dry his mouth suddenly becomes, he feels the pull of wanting to crumble and fold. Vergil meant it when he said he held no expectations of forgiveness. It was not his to demand. But...]
[It's still crushing. Even as he remains stoic and stern in his expression as he minutely nods. Even as he hears himself say,]
Of course. I understand.
[Vergil rises to his feet from where he sits upon the couch all the way in the living room. He does not slouch, but stands tall and proud as always despite how very much the opposite is what he carries inside. He's too aware of how she stays more or less in the other room, a great deal of distance between them as she keeps herself contained in the kitchen. It feels worse somehow. For as much as Vergil found himself fumbling and struggling with all the emotion that spilled out of the girl when he found her wandering alone in the forest, Vergil would rather more emotion spill out of her than what's there in her face, than that defensive measure to keep her distance.]
[But he can find no fault in her for it. All he can see is a reasonable decision. She knows of his lethality and violence more than she knows anything else of him. What reason does she have to truly see him for who he is now, and not the monster that maimed and nearly killed the man she loves?]
[He never felt owed forgiveness, but it hurts more than he cares to admit and acknowledge not to receive even an ounce of it. Nero spoke so much of Kyrie and how she sees the good in everyone, and the likelihood she could forgive Vergil, but that's not what she sees. It's clear to him that's not what is in focus, and is not liable to be anytime soon. And it's hard to understand. Or maybe it's just an ugly truth that he does not wish to contend with. He doesn't know. He's exhausted and crawling out of his own skin all at once. Vergil can feel his mind beginning to flood with doubts and insecurities he thought he'd moved past. The most he can do now is tread water, but he knows it won't be long before he drowns.]
[He picks the Yamato up from where he left it to rest against the arm of the couch. Part of him just wants to walk away immediately, but he doesn't. He looks over at his shoulder to Kyrie again before taking so much as another step towards retreating to the relative safety of his room.]
If that is all you wish to discuss for now, I will let you return to your morning.
[Kyrie is not unaware of the things people call her in Fortuna. Angel. Saint. She's always thought it was going too far, she's just an ordinary person trying to do her best for other people. Her parents had raised her to be kind, to put the needs of others to the forefront and do whatever she could to be helpful and that's how she's tried to live her life. That doesn't mean she's unaware of that people use that perceived ideal of her to judge her decisions and choices.
She's tried not to be judgemental. She's tried to be good and ignore certain things, to always think the best of people but when it comes to some things she won't allow herself to be pushed around. She's learning to stand up for herself.
Sometimes that's hard. Sometimes she immediately wants to reach out and pacify, to not put up a fight and let someone else have an easier time of it, to hell with how she herself might feel as a result.
This is one of those moments.
She didn't envisage how this conversation was going to play out, what her verdict might be or how she might feel. All she wanted was her questions answered and the right to make her own mind up. She's been given that.
It doesn't mean her mind's made up. It's been eased, certainly, but she's still so unsure. She just... doesn't know.
And she feels awful.]
I want to thank you for being so honest with me. I-
[Didn't go easy Wasn't kind Didn't try to understand because I can't Don't want to forgive you only to take it back if you hurt him again
wish I knew what to do]
I know this hasn't been an easy conversation. Thank you.
[It has been...odd. The adjustment to Kyrie being in the house, that is.]
[From the moment Vergil found her wandering about in Wintermute, Vergil knew that sooner or later, they would need to have a conversation about matters. There could be no real path forward without addressing what came before. It just came about a little sooner than he anticipated, and it turns out that no amount of mentally preparing himself even before she arrived was ever going to be sufficient. But he got through it. They both did.]
[Except things did not feel quite as resolved as Vergil hoped they might be afterwards. And for as much as Vergil trusted Nero when he said that Kyrie wanted to get to know him, Vergil struggled in making himself available for such a thing. It was less of a stonewalling, however, as it was that Vergil found it difficult to be so at ease in her presence. Some part of him could not help but wait for the other shoe to drop. For her mind to be more firmly made up, and for it not to be in his favor. So, while Vergil was present for dinners on nights that he intended to be home, he never stayed for conversation. On some occasions, he may have offered her some tea while the process of making his own, but Vergil didn't hang about after serving her a cup. There were notes on the fridge written in his tidy handwriting of items that would need restocking when Vergil knew Kyrie intended to do the shopping, but he never said a word of it to her directly.]
[And then Vergil became ill. And suddenly that tenuous albeit peaceful coexistence was somewhat forced into something a little more direct. Which ended up not being so terrible in the end. Vergil expressed his gratitude for Kyrie's contributions in making sure he was relatively comfortable and well-fed came in the form of a neat stack of books he thought she might like based upon what information he could get out of Nero before he began a monologue on her virtues again. His method of delivery remained indirect, of course, but he didn't imagine Kyrie would have a difficult time figuring out who did it if such a thing mattered to her. (After all, Nero would have given her the books directly and Dante's tastes in literature lean towards magazines.) And it appears that it did because she did eventually get a chance to thank him. Directly and with his subsequent clumsy and somewhat awkward acknowledgement of her gratitude before retreating to the sanctity of his room once more.]
[That was a few days ago, and little else has occurred since then until now.]
[Summer rains are nothing new for Epiphany. The summer months would be uncomfortably sticky and humid without the frequent rains to break it up. But the humidity this year, particularly this month, feels stronger than Vergil remembers from the year prior. It's most certainly connected to the excessive amount of thunderstorms that continue to roll through the region (and other parts of Folkmore) almost daily. And it would seem today is shaping up to be another with bands of storms if how dark the sky was when Vergil awoke was any indication. He opted to navigate the dark of the living room, but turned on the kitchen lights to make his breakfast. Pointless as it seemed given the rolls of not-so distant thunder, Vergil kept the noise down while making his breakfast and cleaning up along the way all the same. Dante sleeps like the dead and Nero is nearly just as bad, but he still hasn't gauged how light a sleeper Kyrie might be or if she has a sensitivity to noises in the house while filtering out sounds outside of it.]
[To avoid turning on more lights in the house, Vergil is seated at the kitchen island with his breakfast and a book when Nero and Kyrie's bedroom door opens. The footfalls preceding it opening sound too light to be Nero, but he still glances over his shoulder nonetheless to confirm it.]
Good morning, Kyrie. [He's consistent about greeting her even if Vergil doesn't tend to leap at the chance for additional conversation. This morning seems to be more of that as he turns his attention back to his book. However, he does not actually settle back into reading as immediately as he intended. Vergil glances at her again instead before adding.] If you would like tea, the water in the kettle should still be hot enough.
[If Vergil has felt awkward in the house since Kyrie's arrival, it's nothing to how she's been feeling. Although Nero assures her - repeatedly - that she's not stepping on any toes or intruding, she can't help but feel like she's upset things just by being there. Having a less than ideal start to her relationship with Vergil hasn't helped matters; perhaps things might have been easier if she'd been kept in blissful ignorance for longer, but easier doesn't mean better and having everything out in the open is surely better in the long run.
It just doesn't help her escape the feeling that Vergil is avoiding her and it makes it incredibly hard for her to form an objective opinion when her gut reaction is to act on her instinctive need to rush in and make everybody feel better by any means necessary.
She knows what needs to happen to ease their relationship, and it's not something she can give yet. Not truthfully.
On her end she's been trying; the house is usually spotless, the laundry is done, the pantry and fridge are well stocked and nutritious, hearty meals are prepared on the daily. Her love language is taking care of people and she does just that. She runs the household as she's run every other home she's taken responsibility for, and in the privacy of their bedroom she drops the facade and leans on Nero for comfort, to reassure her that she's not doing anything wrong. It helps, especially when he tells her that he and his father are still as close as they've ever been. She truly wouldn't be able to live with herself if she'd come between them.
Still, there are signs of improvement. The books had been a welcome, delightful surprise and she had tried to express her gratitude and start up a conversation but had been met with a swift retreat. She had tried to explain it away with the thought that perhaps Vergil was still feeling unwell, but then again he hadn't tried to make any overtures since recovering, and she had been too nervous to try again.
This morning she had laid in bed, waiting for the sky to brighten. She'd wanted to go to Willow today to investigate the farmer's market, perhaps put together a picnic and see if anyone else wanted to join her. It was probably early enough for her to get going; it was always best to get to the markets early to get the freshest vegetables and beat the crowds and with how dark it is she's probably got a great start on things. She leaves Nero asleep in bed, shirtless and curled around his pillow, dead to the world as she quietly dresses into a floral print dress and sandals. The house is quiet as she emerges from the bedroom into the gloom of the morning. A grumble of thunder overhead immediately scuppers her plans for the morning.]
Oh damn.
[It's said to herself, and the last thing she's expecting is for Vergil to greet her from the kitchen, let alone after she's cursed the weather! She turns around suddenly, face beet red and a guilty look on her face for her profanity.]
Oh- I'm sorry, the thunder- Good morning, Vergil.
[She brushes an imaginary piece of lint off sleeve to make up for her awkwardness and the blunder with her language. The mention of the water in the kettle makes for a blessed distraction as she walks over to the kitchen.]
That sounds wonderful. How are you, can I make you another cup?
[Vergil politely pretends not to have heard the rough language. Or rather, he doesn't make a big deal out of it and in doing so, likely seems to be politely pretending he did not hear. He's heard far worse and more colorful language fly out of his son's mouth, but unlike Nero, Vergil is not unfamiliar with the concept of a woman from Fortuna swearing courtesy of Nero's mother when she got wound up about something. So, it's hardly scandalizing to hear Kyrie swear at all, never mind such a tepid damn. Contrary to how red she appears to be over it.]
[Vergil glances up at the offer of a refill for his mug of tea and shakes his head a little.]
No, I'm fine. I just poured myself a cup not that long ago.
]Which is the truth. He is not making it up so as to not inconvenience her, nor is he yet a victim of losing track of time after becoming too engrossed in his book. He's only been sat for a minute or two before Kyrie set foot out of the bedroom.]
[Vergil puts his gaze back in the pages in front of him, but does not actually read. Which is fine. It's Little Women again. He's read it half a dozen times since bringing it home the day after Kyrie's arrival. It's enough that anyone paying attention to his voracious reading habits might assume it odd he appears to still be reading it while he tears through a number of library books between readings rather than recognizing it as separate readings. He doesn't really need to read it right this instant. Slowly he looks to Kyrie again and...chooses to close the book and set it beside his breakfast. Vergil remains uncertain as hell about this, especially without Nero as a buffer. So, he still uses the aforementioned breakfast as a distraction from his nerves in trying to make some semblance of conversation when his skills in small talk leave so much to be desired. Vergil picks at the food a bit, mulling over what to say. It's better than keeping his nose firmly in the book, he reminds himself. It's not sending the incorrect message that he does not wish to talk to her at least. He steals a glance at her again, steeling himself for trying to make conversation happen.]
[Why must it be so difficult?]
Did you give up on trying to wake Nero this early? [Vergil would find it odd for him to be up this early, but Kyrie appears dressed already. It suggests there's a plan for the morning at the very least, and it seems unlikely to Vergil that she would not pry the youngest descendant of Sparda from bed for whatever it is rather than going alone if that's what it took.] He sleeps just as heavily as his uncle.
[Unlike Vergil who remains a fairly light sleeper when not ill albeit not as a light of a sleeper as he was a year ago.]
[Kyrie crosses to the kitchen and sets about preparing herself a cup of Earl Grey, fetching her preferred cup and going to the fridge to get a lemon. She slices a piece and puts it into the cup with the tea bag before getting the kettle pouring the water in.
The silence between them is not exactly comfortable, but it doesn't feel horrifically awkward. She considers that a mild improvement. Somehow she feels that chattering about inane things isn't exactly Vergil's forte, so she knows better than to try and fill the silence with small talk. There's four minutes of steeping time to kill, she wonders what to bring up. He then brings up their mutual favourite common interest and she smiles, shaking her head. Nero's fast asleep and she's inclined to leave him that way, they... well. They might have been to bed early last night but that doesn't mean they'd been early to sleep. She smiles, trying not to look too smitten by the memory of him curled up in the pillows.]
No, I didn't even try, to be honest. He looked so peaceful I thought I'd let him sleep in.
[Honestly, given that the weather's so lousy she has half a mind to climb back into bed and make a lazy morning of it, but she had a plan for the morning and she's loath to give up on it.]
I wanted to go and explore one of the farmer's markets and surprise him with breakfast, but it looks like the weather had other plans.
[As if to punctuate her disappointment, there's a brief flicker of lightning somewhere off in the distance, followed after a slight delay by a distant growl of thunder. Rain starts to rattle against the window pane and Kyrie sighs, cradling her cup in her hands and swirling the brewing tea around, watching it darken as the tea leaches out into the water.]
Never mind, I suppose I'll make do with what we have here and go later, maybe there'll be something good I could pick up for lunch.
[She looks across to give Vergil a bright, friendly smile and then happens to read the gilded words on the spine of his book.]
[Truth be told, Vergil doesn't think it will really matter to Nero where Kyrie manages to get her ingredients from. She could very well go picking through the trash and put it on a plate, and he would fall all over himself espousing praises to her name. He will be plenty pleased with a more ordinary breakfast just as he would be had she gone to the trouble of gathering fresh ingredients. He doesn't say any of this, however, because he understands enough that for Kyrie, there is a difference all the same in the amount of effort she puts into it. Making him breakfast each day is a simple, basic task. Getting the ingredients from the farmer's market while not making a difference necessarily to Nero, is something special for her perspective.]
[He hasn't the time to say anything about the matter of the farmer's market before her attention is on his book. Vergil's gaze moves from Kyrie down to the nearby book, and he would be lying if he did not feel an impulsive urge to draw it closer to himself. He tamps down on such a defensive response though.]
Yes, [he says, drawing his attention back up to Kyrie.] I have read it several times these past few weeks. It is not a particular favorite of mine, but Beatrice loved it and it had been a long time since I read it.
[He leaves it at that, not divulging anything further regarding his motivations for reading it.]
[Beatrice. That was Nero's mother's name, wasn't it? How strange that this book should have been one of her favorites.]
I used to love this when I was younger, my father and I would read it together.
[It's been such a long time since she read it, who would have thought that was something she had in common with Nero's mother? She remembers their old copy with the frayed ribbon attached to the book that served as a bookmark, the worn gilded lettering and patterns on the cover and the pretty marbled paper on the inside. It had been such fun to trace the patterns on cover's border while listening to her father read it, curled up on his lap on the big leather wingback chair in his study.
It's been a while since she'd thought of those times.]
I always found myself wondering if having a sister would be the same as it was in the book, or if it would be the same as having brother but a girl.
[...so much for steering away from inane conversation.]
It always made me cry though. When Beth dies. I couldn't imagine- well I suppose I can now.
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morning after arrival
[He knew better than to believe that Kyrie's ignorance would last long. Nero is nothing if not honest, and she would want answers from Nero to questions she likely hadn't felt comfortable prying into during her time with Vergil sooner rather than later. But still, an uneasiness settled over him quickly alongside a destroyed, stupid hope that he might have had a little longer with her before needing to delve into such matters.]
[He stays in bed only long enough for Mizu's eyes to also open. Much as he doesn't need to explain the reasons for staying in bed, neither does he really need to explain why he must go this morning, but he does anyways. She understood and he drew some comfort from that understanding, but it dissipated before the train even reached the mountains.]
[He's frozen now. Just outside the front door, hand slightly raised from by his side to reach for the doorknob. He flexes his fingers a few times, trying to will his arm to raise just a little further so he can get his hand on the doorknob and then he can set about willing his legs to move forward and take those steps forward. Nothing really works as far as tricking himself into doing it, not even trying to assure himself that he may still yet possess a few hours because Kyrie isn't likely awake yet given that she was seemingly coming down with a cold and whatever...the night's activities entailed. It's frustrating if not altogether maddening just how difficult the task of opening the door feels. Vergil glares at the doorknob as though it committed some sort of personal offense towards him before closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath. Holding it for a just a second or two, Vergil opens his eyes and slowly lets the breath go as he opens the door and steps inside to the quiet house.]
[Looking across from the entryway to the other side of the living room, he sees that Nero's (and now Kyrie's) bedroom door is closed. He breathes a small sigh of relief as he steps into the living room with the intention of turning towards his own bedroom except... Vergil stops where he is. There's a pair of eyes on him. He stands ramrod straight and still save the slight turn of his head. She's not in his peripheral vision, but he knows she's standing there somewhere in vicinity of the kitchen.]
[He walks to the couch rather than his bedroom, setting Yamato to lean against it before turning towards kitchen. Vergil looks at the floor rather than into the kitchen proper, resting his hand on the back of the couch, brushing and picking at imaginary dirt to keep from fidgeting any further.]
He said you wished to hear me out.
no subject
Eventually, she finds herself feeling restless and thirsty and manages to ease her way out of Nero's embrace, brushing the ghost of a kiss across his lips as she leaves the bed. Unsure of who's home, she dresses before heading to the kitchen to make some tea, readopting Nero's hoodie from the night before as a way of keeping him with her until he wakes up again. It's almost like wearing a hug, and she knows for a fact he will tease her for being a complete softie but she will certainly give as good as she gets if it happens.
She sets the kettle to boil as she begins searching as quietly as she can for teacups and teabags. Everything in the kitchen seems to be arranged in a sensible, logical way and she soon finds herself nursing a cup of Earl Grey and lemon, hoping it will soothe the scratchy throat she's woken up with and make her feel a bit less fuzzy headed. The house is quiet, not a soul besides herself is stirring and she enjoys the peace, savouring the aroma of her tea and the way the rosy morning light begins to brighten as the sun climbs.
And then she hears the door open and someone walk in.
It becomes apparent fairly soon who it is.
Kyrie is frozen to the spot, her eyes laser focused on Vergil as he moves into the space and then stops and straightens. Her stomach feels like it's tied in knots and she finds herself fighting the urge to abandon her tea and bolt back to the safety of her room and Nero where she won't have to deal with this. It's too soon, she doesn't know how to put her thoughts in order, let alone confront the very complicated feelings the revelations of the night before have brought out.
This man is Nero's father, and not so long ago (to her) he tore his son's arm off and left him to die on the floor of their garage.
It would be easier to pretend she doesn't know, to let herself observe and come to her own conclusions before she has that conversation and she's all but resolved to play it that way, but then Vergil speaks and that option is taken away from her.
He said you wished to hear me out.
It says something that Nero has already been in touch with him. She's not sure when that happened, how it had escaped her notice, and she has a brief, uncomfortable feeling like jealousy that there's someone else that Nero is sharing their conversations with. Immediately she berates herself for that; she's been so lucky to be foremost in Nero's affections for so long that she's just going to have to get used to sharing him with someone else he loves. It will be an adjustment.
At least she hasn't tried to kill him.
Again, she's appalled at how prickly her thoughts feel.
She hates confrontation, she hates getting into the weeds with something she doesn't know how to overcome, and this just might be one of the weediest patches she's found herself in.
She sets her tea aside, draws herself upright and takes a deep breath, trying very hard to keep her voice steady. Somehow this is even more intimidating that singing in front of a whole congregation; at least then there had been words and a melody to follow. No one has written a score for this.]
That's right. I do.
[She takes the steady delivery of her words without a single tremor to be a small win. Who knows how long it will last?]
no subject
I apologize for not saying anything before. You do not owe me any benefit of the doubt, but I was not looking to hide or otherwise obfuscate anything from you out of some malicious intent. [Vergil lifts his gaze to her then, hand stilling on the back of the couch.] I... [He glances away briefly again, looking to the closed door of Nero and Kyrie's bedroom before he looks back at her.] I was focused on returning you to Nero, and did not want you to give you cause to be afraid of me in pursuit of that end.
[And he still does not want her to be afraid of him. There's a crease in his brow, but his expression is not one stemming from anger or defensiveness. Vergil guards as much of his expression as he can, but his anxiety about all of this isn't something he's able to suppress entirely. Even if he does not exactly slouch or shrink himself into a smaller presence, Vergil still keeps his distance, remaining near to the couch rather than stepping closer to her.]
I also wish to...preface...my explanation that it is not my expectation that anything I say will be...satisfactory to you. Nero has forgiven me and chose to build trust within our relationship. But I can assure you that I do not understand his forgiveness any better than you likely do beyond that Nero's capacity for love runs far deeper than any of us should ever likely come to possess. Thus, I hold no anticipation that you should offer me the same forgiveness or willingness to build trust as he did. [He stops short of making some offer to keep his distance if only because... He can't. There was a time when Vergil would have readily accepted it if Nero hated him. If Nero made the demand that Vergil keep his distance and leave him be, he would have done as he was told regardless of how much his heart would have ached at the loss over someone and something he never truly knew. But now? He would not look at Kyrie as an obstacle per se and certainly wouldn't take actions to remove her as one. But he would still fight like hell to have his son, to have something of what they have still remain even at a more controlled distance.] What you do in light of what I say is ultimately your decision. And that is my only intention here and now regardless of what I would prefer as an outcome.
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?
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Yes.
[It's fair. And it means it will be far less likely that uglier emotions will slip from him as it had that day with Nero. It still all worked out with Nero despite, but... Vergil was far less confident that would be the case with Kyrie. He tugs a little at his collar as he steps around to sit on the couch. Or, more accurately, he perches on the very edge of a couch cushion, holding his hand in front of himself with his elbows rested on his knees. He draws a few deep breaths, silent for the moment as he organizes his thoughts and tries to find the best place to begin. Nero said he told Kyrie everything, but there are things Nero does not know—things Vergil does not wish to speak of to anyone—and Nero likely holds his own biases as far as what he feels is important to be shared.]
I am not certain what exactly Nero said to you, but given that you're willing to hear me out, I imagine he told you I was dying when I attacked him. [Vergil draws another steadying breath before saying,] I had spent nearly the entirety of Nero's life in the Underworld. The specifics of what happened there matters little beyond that I was rapidly running out of time when I attacked Nero for the Yamato. I did not know who he was to me, but even if I had, I do not know I would have been in the state of mind to see more than an obstacle standing in the way of my survival.
[Vergil knows acknowledging that piece of information is not liable to win him any favors with Kyrie, but it was the honest truth he provided Nero when they discussed this before. He cannot provide a detail like that to Nero, but keep it from Kyrie.]
My intention was solely to reclaim the Yamato as quickly as possible before I lost the strength to wield it. Whether Nero lived or died at the time was of no consequence to me. [Vergil shakes his head a little and lifts his gaze back up to Kyrie.] I have not and will not apologize for prioritizing or desiring my survival. But there shall never be a day that goes by that I do not regret the harm I inflicted on Nero. Regardless of my reasons for it, the truth remains that I selfishly maimed him and left him to die.
[Swallowing thickly, Vergil's gaze drops to the floor for a moment before he makes himself look at her again. He doesn't particularly want to with the amount of shame and guilt that rise up within him, that will always be with him every time he thinks of that day in the garage when he stole the Yamato back. Nero has forgiven him. But Vergil? Vergil hasn't forgiven himself. He doesn't really think it's possible. The only thing he can do is not allow himself to dwell on it in such a way that he would chance missing out on what's in front of him. They moved past it. Together. But there's another sense of shame and guilt that comes up when he looks at Kyrie now, one that he doesn't know right now if he will be able to move past with her. A potential fact that he only has himself to blame for as much as he wishes there was something or someone else to heap it onto.]
I still almost took him away from you. And for that, I am sorry, Kyrie. [He purses his lips slightly.] I know what it is to have a loved one violently ripped away from you and to find yourself alone. It's... [Words fail him that Vergil almost feels he doesn't even know what he was about to say. He shakes his head a little, dismissing whatever the rest of that sentence would have been as unimportant and not the point.] I had no right to place you that fear within you that day, let alone possibly make you live through it. You did not deserve that any more than the physical harm Nero had to endure at my hand.
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How strange, Kyrie thinks, that someone can look at another person and think of them not as a being with a soul and hopes and dreams and a will to live, but as an obstacle. It's even stranger to her that someone could think that way about Nero, the strongest person she knows. To just overlook him like that... how strong must Vergil be to be that assured of his own prowess, even while dying?
She knows. She knows from the stains she still can't scrub from the concrete even after months and buckets of bleach.
How broken a soul was he for him to admit that even if he had known Nero's relation to him, it would have likely made little difference to him?
It feels strangely impersonal and detached from the situation to be standing away from him but she's frozen where she stands, listening intently, her own expression schooled into as calm a face as she can muster. So much of what he says makes her blood boil and her fingers curl up into fists, the edges of her nails digging into her palms to keep her from breaking her word and interjecting in her anger.
He says he knows what it is to lose a love one. To feel alone. She's fortunate that through all her losses, through each heartbreak she's had to face in her life, she's never been alone. She's always had that one constant by her side from the time they were very small, always looking out for her, always protecting her and soothing away her pain. The pain of losing her parents, losing Credo, Nero's been with her throughout it all. And it's not just her, he's been there for their foster boys, for Kyle and Julio and Carlo. He's their hero. Their funny little found family depends on him as the protector, the goofball with terrible jokes, the one who throws a ball about in the yard, the one who checks for monsters under Julio's bed and promises to take out anything that comes out of the shadows. How would those children cope losing another parental figure? Kyrie's lived through that pain Vergil speaks of before, but it's only because of Nero that she's been able to survive it.
She still feels sick to the stomach at the thought of having to endure that agony without him.
True to her word, she holds her tongue and her place and continues to watch Vergil, waiting to hear if there's more to come.]
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[He sits back in his seat, but does not sit as upright as he possibly could. It's not like on the bench in the station or train where Vergil held such obvious command of the space he occupies even as he rests his hands on his knees. He's quiet for just a moment longer, drawing a breath to speak while looking at the closed bedroom door.]
I told Nero once that he is the only good I've ever put into the world. I meant it, and knowing him better now than I did at the time, I still do. [Vergil's brow furrows as he continues looking at Nero's bedroom door, not out of consternation so much as in an attempt at containing his emotions enough that he may speak as evenly as possible. To some degree, it's impossible. Vergil's voice comes out smaller, but all the softer, gentler.] The moment I knew the truth of who he was to me, Nero became my world and I have loved him more than I've ever allowed myself to love anyone. That child is more precious to me than anything or anyone else has ever been or likely will be. There is nothing that I would be unwilling to do or sacrifice for his sake. I would sooner give my life than allow a single hair upon his head to be harmed, never mind be the one to inflict such harm upon him ever again.
I told him as much months ago. I don't know if Nero told you that, but I promised and I have maintained that promise even when it would have been to my benefit not to do so.
[Vergil finally pulls his gaze away from the bedroom door to look at Kyrie again.]
I have no interest in arguing that you ought to give me a chance, to find some part of me redeemable enough or my apologies sincere enough that your opinion of me might yet someday favor me. But I do wish for it to be clear to you before we are done here today that I would be lost without Nero. Even if he decided not to give me a chance, refused to forgive me and hated me instead for the myriad of reasons I have given him to hate and refuse me, that would not change. I would endure it, and still love and seek to protect him as I do now even at a distance.
So, the promise I made to him is the same promise I am making to you here and now: I shall never intentionally and knowingly bring about harm to Nero.
[Even if Kyrie cannot trust him by the end of this hashing out and clarifying matters, Vergil wants for her to trust in the love he has for Nero persists no matter the circumstances. It's an unconditional love, the sort that Vergil believes wholeheartedly Nero deserves. It does not matter what Nero says or does, if he has a relationship with Vergil or not. Nor does it matter what Thirteen or anyone else may attempt to offer in lieu of maintaining his promise to Nero. Vergil will still love him, and that love will never allow for Vergil to do anything but act within Nero's best interests.]
[He leaves it there for her to do with the silence as she sees fit, whether it is to prolong or break it.]
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Whatever that was.
She hadn't been expecting quite such a degree of candor, a display of emotion in the matter-of-fact way he puts into words how he feels about his son.
Nero became my world and I have loved him more than I've ever allowed myself to love anyone.
It seems here, for certain, they find common ground.
And she does believe him. She can see, standing like a statue and watching him pour his heart out to her, that this degree of emotion is something he's not used to displaying, he looks uncomfortable and as ready to bolt as she feels and here too is common ground. This is a conversation it would be easier not to have, to build a friendship, a family and pretend this had never happened, but she stands by what she had told Nero the night before. She needed to know. If it had come out later, after she'd allowed herself to welcome him into her heart as family, the hurt would be that much deeper.
And if this whole uncomfortable exchange was just about proving that he was worthy of being Nero's father and proving his love for him, this would be enough. She believes that he is sorry, she believes that he truly and deeply regrets attacking and maiming the man she loves - the man they both love- and leaving him for dead on the garage floor. She believes him and Nero believes him, and honestly having Nero in his corner was a weighty enough endorsement that already strengthened Vergil's footing in this.
But Nero isn't the only person he's hurt. Mutilating him, though it nearly brought Kyrie's world crashing down upon her and came dangerously close to fracturing her heart beyond repair, was really just the tip of the iceberg, wasn't it?
Because there was Red Grave. There were the thousands of people who had been killed - she had listened with growing horror to the news bulletins and tried desperately hard not to dwell, not to picture the worst, not to go out of her mind and continue to put on a brave face for the boys. There was all of that, caused by a demon who had unleashed chaos and death and despair on such a scale that it made what had ruined Fortuna look like a casual mishap. That had been Vergil's handiwork, or at least some part of him. He had accomplished that by tearing off Nero's arm, seizing the Yamato, and quite literally raising hell on earth.
There was no part in his apology about that.
And she understands, because at the heart of it all, in their shared love for Nero, they're both a little selfish. Their worlds are small, and at the center of them both, burning brightly enough for them to revolve around, sits Nero - who would be acutely embarrassed to hear himself described in such terms. That's the crux, he's the glue that is binding them together. Nero loves his father. Kyrie loves Nero. She will never, never ask him to choose between them, she will shoulder even the worst discomfort with a smile on her face if it means his happiness, and she will sit there and hold him together if, for some reason, this whole thing goes horribly awry.
But she still doesn't know who this man is. If he's a man at all.
She knows he's more than a mere man. Sparda wasn't even a man, but where it counted? He was more. Nero is more.
Is Vergil?
The silence draws on, Kyrie realises that he is waiting for her to break the silence and she does, exhaling heavily. She doesn't move from her place, nor make any effort to make herself more comfortable.]
Thank you. Is there anything more you'd like to say?
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[Her sigh causes him to jerk slightly. Not exactly a full startle—he's too acutely aware of her presence for that—but enough that it's plain his attention isn't as keenly trained on her as it perhaps could be. Vergil lifts his gaze to her again.]
[He shakes his head slightly to her question. It surprisingly doesn't spark an impatience within him, but that is probably likely due to the anxiety that feels as though it will swallow him whole should it grow any larger.]
[Quietly, he says,] No.
[Not for now, at least.]
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Where does she even begin to put everything in order here?]
I believe you. I believe you're sorry for what you did to Nero, I believe that you love him and I know that he loves you. I believe that you will never willingly hurt him again and I am truly grateful to hear you say that.
[She looks up, giving him the courtesy of her full focus, as she had done when she listened, and tries not to let her nerves appear on her face. Her heart has not stopped thundering since this conversation began.]
I don't need to tell you- [She pauses, trying to calm the tremble that has manifested in her voice. She doesn't need to tell Vergil how awful it was to find Nero in that garage. He knows what he had left in the wake of his attack. She tries a different tangent.]
Did Nero ever tell you that I am an orphan, and my brother is dead?
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He did. [Vergil hesitates for a moment, uncertain if he should say more of what he knows to spare her having to recount it, or if he should let it be and allow her to speak. He errs on the side of the former, so that if there is more she must say, it need only be what he does not already know.] He told me your brother raised you after your parents died, and he explained some of the circumstances surrounding your brother's death to me.
[Vergil chooses to leave out mention of how Nero blames himself for Credo's death, or the context in which Vergil learned this information had been over a nightmare involving reliving a form of that death and loss again. It's not likely anything Kyrie doesn't already know or couldn't speculate correctly for herself, but it's irrelevant. Vergil also wisely keeps whatever judgments he's made of Credo's betrayal of Nero to himself and allows her to speak.]
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So then you'll understand when I tell you that Nero is the only person in this whole world who shares my past with me. He's the only person left who remembers my parents, remembers my brother, and all the happy times we had before- before those times were gone.
[She looks searchingly at him, earnest in her hope that her words are resonating with him.]
If I had lost him... I would have lost my family all over again. I would have lost my present. Every dream I have for the future, a home, babies, grandchildren some day, those would have gone too. And maybe I would have gone on, I would have held it together somehow for the sake of the boys, but I wouldn't really have been living. Because how can you live without your heart?
[Her voice becomes stronger, the tremor non-existent. This is getting easier as she goes on and she's not sure how this will end.]
Your son... is the most incredible, kind, thoughtful, brave, compassionate man I have ever had the privilege to know. He amazes me every day with his strength, his capacity to do good, his willingness to endanger himself just to protect others. Every day I get to wake up beside him I thank whatever higher power there might be out there that I get to love him and have him in my life and that Nero, for some reason, loves me back. And I love that after all this time, you've found each other and he gets to be loved by his own family, the way he has always deserved to be! I really, truly cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am that he means as much to you as does, nothing could make me happier than knowing that your son is loved by his father.
[But it's here that she pauses, and takes a deep breath to steel herself for the question she knows she has to ask.]
But when you attacked Nero, the love of my life, he was just a stranger to you, an obstacle standing in the way of your survival. I know you are sorry for that. What I want to know is... would you still be sorry for what you did if Nero wasn't your son?
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Were he not my kin... [he begins, slowly.] I can only speculate. What harms I've done to others has never been any more my intention than it was my intention specifically to harm Nero. [Vergil knows that does not make it better or somehow more acceptable, and does not state it as though making a case for it. It's a simple explanation of consequence versus intention.] In the past, I've always seen as a natural consequence. Those strong enough to protect themselves and what's theirs survive. Those too weak to protect themselves or anything else simply die or bear their losses.
I... [He purses his lips briefly.] A lot has changed since then. But I would not claim that I feel guilt or shame over my previous wrongs to faceless strangers as acutely as I feel for what I've done to Nero.
[Even if he wanted to dwell that much on any of them, Vergil is certain he couldn't when he has to set aside the guilt he feels for Nero, only allowing it at times, so that he can continue to step forward with him. It would paralyze him at best, kill him at worst.]
So, were he just a stranger... [Vergil inhales deeply albeit a little shakily through his nose and lets out a soft exhale.] I doubt I would have spared much thought to him.
[Whether she finds it reprehensible or not, there it is. The truth.]
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If Nero had been anyone else's child, he'd have just been another victim of a person who could callously strike down another in cold blood and move on without thinking anything of it, or the damage following in the wake of such action. Tossed aside and never thought of again.
Kyrie sets her jaw, her lips thinning in a visible display of discomfort.
It hurts to know that at the time, maiming Nero had been nothing more than collateral to him, and she does genuinely feel that the knowledge of that pains this enigma of a man standing in front of her. It still doesn't bring her as much comfort as she'd hoped.]
Then my next question is this: you just said 'in the past.'
[It was a sliver of something, something that she's not about to let slide. She hopes her intuition is about to steer her wrong.]
Are you trying to say that you would act differently now?
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[Vergil purses his lips as she picks at his words. No matter how even she speaks, how gentle her voice, it begins to feel more an interrogation. Especially as he does not know how to explain any of this to this...stranger when he can barely speak of it to those he holds close, if he can even manage to speak of it at all in the first place. There's a harder to look to Vergil's eyes as he looks at Kyrie, studies her. It's not the freezing glare of his temper arising, ready to lash out in anger. But it's a blatant defensive wariness. Whatever assumptions Kyrie may have held about Vergil's reserved temperament, his difficulties with emotional vulnerability most likely come to prove themselves in the way he regards her. Vergil's fingers curl against his pantlegs tightly, the fabric serving as a buffer to keep blunt nails from digging into his palms.]
[He draws a steadying breath, releasing the tension in his hands, but not the furrow in his brow.]
I am saying that I lived as a devil before. Now, I am trying to live as a man.
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It takes every ounce of resolve not to flinch when the very slight motion of Vergil curling his fists into his pants catches her eye. She's upset him and the adrenaline pulses through her veins; does he have a temper? Does it spark and catch flame the way Nero's does? Does she want to imagine what it would be like to make Vergil truly angry?
No. Not even a little.
But then his answer comes on the tail of a deep breath and a furrowed brow and she finds herself surprised by the simplicity of the answer. So few words, so much said.
I am trying to live as a man.]
Is it working?
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It's not as simple as that.
[Vergil would like to give her a straightforward, simple answer of yes or no. But a response in either direction would be a misrepresentation of what it is to walk the path he does now.]
I will concede that I am not a full-blooded demon. There is and always has been something inside me that has always made me more prone to think and feel in ways not dissimilar from full-blooded humans. But I grew accustomed to not merely ignoring it. I refused to recognize it as part of me at all. Casting it aside altogether became second nature. [Until he went to such extreme lengths as to excise it from him completely, but Vergil does not bring that up now. He merely looks to a spot on the floor somewhere in the vast amount of space between them, the furrow in his brow deepening as though he were lost in thought.] I no longer choose that, but it is still a choice for me.
[A messy and, at times, complicated choice, but a choice nonetheless. Vergil raises his gaze again after a brief pause.]
And I cannot ignore the fact there are still days and times that I yearn for when I chose to ignore it. When I doubt my own resolve.
And yet, the fact I cannot comfortably say to you that I am now more man than devil does not lead me to stop trying.
[So, it's not a matter of whether it is working or not. Not when it's impossible to envision the possibility of an endpoint where it is no longer a choice. Vergil doesn't believe it can ever be that way for him, not after everything. Instead, it's a matter of daily, sometimes momentary choice as Vergil implied with his answer that prompted this question from Kyrie in the first place.]
I recognize this may be an unsatisfactory answer to your question, but it is the truth. As best I know it to be.
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But is it really stronger?
She knows she's just a weak, sheltered girl brought up believing lies, but she believes still in the inherent goodness that Sparda must have stood for, must have believed in with his soul to turn his back on his race and protect the weaklings who walked the earth. She wonders how much of her belief is fiction, and wonders if one day she will ever feel comfortable enough with Vergil and Dante to ask for the truth about their father. It's hard to accept that he was flesh and blood and not a god, but here's the proof standing in front of her.
Admitting that there is work to be done, that Vergil is still not content in his own skin, is a human enough answer to show her that his efforts are not in vain.]
I wouldn't call it an unsatisfactory answer. I'd say it was very honest.
[It is. As is he. Unflinchingly so.
She is quiet and still for a moment, thoughtful and worried about how to proceed. There's still a myriad scenarios she's concerned about, and the part of her that yearns to shield Nero from harm is still unsettled and snarling, not sure if it's safe to drop her guard.
She takes a deep breath.]
I accept and appreciate your apology. But...
[She looks at him carefully, her face showing just how deeply troubled and saddened she is by everything she has learned in the last twenty four hours.]
Please understand when I say I need more time to decide if I forgive you for it. I- I'm just not sure I fully know how I feel. I want to- I don't want to-
[She stops, not wanting to babble or let her mouth run away and say something indelicate as she struggles to find the words to voice how she feels. This man, and his importance to Nero, isn't something she can trample roughshod over for the sake of making everybody feel better immediately, only for her to change her mind.]
I want to make the right decision and I need time to think. The last thing I want to do is cause anyone any more pain than they've already had to experience. I think all three of us deserve that.
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[It's still crushing. Even as he remains stoic and stern in his expression as he minutely nods. Even as he hears himself say,]
Of course. I understand.
[Vergil rises to his feet from where he sits upon the couch all the way in the living room. He does not slouch, but stands tall and proud as always despite how very much the opposite is what he carries inside. He's too aware of how she stays more or less in the other room, a great deal of distance between them as she keeps herself contained in the kitchen. It feels worse somehow. For as much as Vergil found himself fumbling and struggling with all the emotion that spilled out of the girl when he found her wandering alone in the forest, Vergil would rather more emotion spill out of her than what's there in her face, than that defensive measure to keep her distance.]
[But he can find no fault in her for it. All he can see is a reasonable decision. She knows of his lethality and violence more than she knows anything else of him. What reason does she have to truly see him for who he is now, and not the monster that maimed and nearly killed the man she loves?]
[He never felt owed forgiveness, but it hurts more than he cares to admit and acknowledge not to receive even an ounce of it. Nero spoke so much of Kyrie and how she sees the good in everyone, and the likelihood she could forgive Vergil, but that's not what she sees. It's clear to him that's not what is in focus, and is not liable to be anytime soon. And it's hard to understand. Or maybe it's just an ugly truth that he does not wish to contend with. He doesn't know. He's exhausted and crawling out of his own skin all at once. Vergil can feel his mind beginning to flood with doubts and insecurities he thought he'd moved past. The most he can do now is tread water, but he knows it won't be long before he drowns.]
[He picks the Yamato up from where he left it to rest against the arm of the couch. Part of him just wants to walk away immediately, but he doesn't. He looks over at his shoulder to Kyrie again before taking so much as another step towards retreating to the relative safety of his room.]
If that is all you wish to discuss for now, I will let you return to your morning.
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She's tried not to be judgemental. She's tried to be good and ignore certain things, to always think the best of people but when it comes to some things she won't allow herself to be pushed around. She's learning to stand up for herself.
Sometimes that's hard. Sometimes she immediately wants to reach out and pacify, to not put up a fight and let someone else have an easier time of it, to hell with how she herself might feel as a result.
This is one of those moments.
She didn't envisage how this conversation was going to play out, what her verdict might be or how she might feel. All she wanted was her questions answered and the right to make her own mind up. She's been given that.
It doesn't mean her mind's made up. It's been eased, certainly, but she's still so unsure. She just... doesn't know.
And she feels awful.]
I want to thank you for being so honest with me. I-
[Didn't go easy
Wasn't kind
Didn't try to understand because I can't
Don't want to forgive you only to take it back if you hurt him again
wish I knew what to do]
I know this hasn't been an easy conversation. Thank you.
sometime in june idk i'm not a calendar, man
[From the moment Vergil found her wandering about in Wintermute, Vergil knew that sooner or later, they would need to have a conversation about matters. There could be no real path forward without addressing what came before. It just came about a little sooner than he anticipated, and it turns out that no amount of mentally preparing himself even before she arrived was ever going to be sufficient. But he got through it. They both did.]
[Except things did not feel quite as resolved as Vergil hoped they might be afterwards. And for as much as Vergil trusted Nero when he said that Kyrie wanted to get to know him, Vergil struggled in making himself available for such a thing. It was less of a stonewalling, however, as it was that Vergil found it difficult to be so at ease in her presence. Some part of him could not help but wait for the other shoe to drop. For her mind to be more firmly made up, and for it not to be in his favor. So, while Vergil was present for dinners on nights that he intended to be home, he never stayed for conversation. On some occasions, he may have offered her some tea while the process of making his own, but Vergil didn't hang about after serving her a cup. There were notes on the fridge written in his tidy handwriting of items that would need restocking when Vergil knew Kyrie intended to do the shopping, but he never said a word of it to her directly.]
[And then Vergil became ill. And suddenly that tenuous albeit peaceful coexistence was somewhat forced into something a little more direct. Which ended up not being so terrible in the end. Vergil expressed his gratitude for Kyrie's contributions in making sure he was relatively comfortable and well-fed came in the form of a neat stack of books he thought she might like based upon what information he could get out of Nero before he began a monologue on her virtues again. His method of delivery remained indirect, of course, but he didn't imagine Kyrie would have a difficult time figuring out who did it if such a thing mattered to her. (After all, Nero would have given her the books directly and Dante's tastes in literature lean towards magazines.) And it appears that it did because she did eventually get a chance to thank him. Directly and with his subsequent clumsy and somewhat awkward acknowledgement of her gratitude before retreating to the sanctity of his room once more.]
[That was a few days ago, and little else has occurred since then until now.]
[Summer rains are nothing new for Epiphany. The summer months would be uncomfortably sticky and humid without the frequent rains to break it up. But the humidity this year, particularly this month, feels stronger than Vergil remembers from the year prior. It's most certainly connected to the excessive amount of thunderstorms that continue to roll through the region (and other parts of Folkmore) almost daily. And it would seem today is shaping up to be another with bands of storms if how dark the sky was when Vergil awoke was any indication. He opted to navigate the dark of the living room, but turned on the kitchen lights to make his breakfast. Pointless as it seemed given the rolls of not-so distant thunder, Vergil kept the noise down while making his breakfast and cleaning up along the way all the same. Dante sleeps like the dead and Nero is nearly just as bad, but he still hasn't gauged how light a sleeper Kyrie might be or if she has a sensitivity to noises in the house while filtering out sounds outside of it.]
[To avoid turning on more lights in the house, Vergil is seated at the kitchen island with his breakfast and a book when Nero and Kyrie's bedroom door opens. The footfalls preceding it opening sound too light to be Nero, but he still glances over his shoulder nonetheless to confirm it.]
Good morning, Kyrie. [He's consistent about greeting her even if Vergil doesn't tend to leap at the chance for additional conversation. This morning seems to be more of that as he turns his attention back to his book. However, he does not actually settle back into reading as immediately as he intended. Vergil glances at her again instead before adding.] If you would like tea, the water in the kettle should still be hot enough.
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It just doesn't help her escape the feeling that Vergil is avoiding her and it makes it incredibly hard for her to form an objective opinion when her gut reaction is to act on her instinctive need to rush in and make everybody feel better by any means necessary.
She knows what needs to happen to ease their relationship, and it's not something she can give yet. Not truthfully.
On her end she's been trying; the house is usually spotless, the laundry is done, the pantry and fridge are well stocked and nutritious, hearty meals are prepared on the daily. Her love language is taking care of people and she does just that. She runs the household as she's run every other home she's taken responsibility for, and in the privacy of their bedroom she drops the facade and leans on Nero for comfort, to reassure her that she's not doing anything wrong. It helps, especially when he tells her that he and his father are still as close as they've ever been. She truly wouldn't be able to live with herself if she'd come between them.
Still, there are signs of improvement. The books had been a welcome, delightful surprise and she had tried to express her gratitude and start up a conversation but had been met with a swift retreat. She had tried to explain it away with the thought that perhaps Vergil was still feeling unwell, but then again he hadn't tried to make any overtures since recovering, and she had been too nervous to try again.
This morning she had laid in bed, waiting for the sky to brighten. She'd wanted to go to Willow today to investigate the farmer's market, perhaps put together a picnic and see if anyone else wanted to join her. It was probably early enough for her to get going; it was always best to get to the markets early to get the freshest vegetables and beat the crowds and with how dark it is she's probably got a great start on things. She leaves Nero asleep in bed, shirtless and curled around his pillow, dead to the world as she quietly dresses into a floral print dress and sandals. The house is quiet as she emerges from the bedroom into the gloom of the morning. A grumble of thunder overhead immediately scuppers her plans for the morning.]
Oh damn.
[It's said to herself, and the last thing she's expecting is for Vergil to greet her from the kitchen, let alone after she's cursed the weather! She turns around suddenly, face beet red and a guilty look on her face for her profanity.]
Oh- I'm sorry, the thunder- Good morning, Vergil.
[She brushes an imaginary piece of lint off sleeve to make up for her awkwardness and the blunder with her language. The mention of the water in the kettle makes for a blessed distraction as she walks over to the kitchen.]
That sounds wonderful. How are you, can I make you another cup?
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[Vergil glances up at the offer of a refill for his mug of tea and shakes his head a little.]
No, I'm fine. I just poured myself a cup not that long ago.
]Which is the truth. He is not making it up so as to not inconvenience her, nor is he yet a victim of losing track of time after becoming too engrossed in his book. He's only been sat for a minute or two before Kyrie set foot out of the bedroom.]
[Vergil puts his gaze back in the pages in front of him, but does not actually read. Which is fine. It's Little Women again. He's read it half a dozen times since bringing it home the day after Kyrie's arrival. It's enough that anyone paying attention to his voracious reading habits might assume it odd he appears to still be reading it while he tears through a number of library books between readings rather than recognizing it as separate readings. He doesn't really need to read it right this instant. Slowly he looks to Kyrie again and...chooses to close the book and set it beside his breakfast. Vergil remains uncertain as hell about this, especially without Nero as a buffer. So, he still uses the aforementioned breakfast as a distraction from his nerves in trying to make some semblance of conversation when his skills in small talk leave so much to be desired. Vergil picks at the food a bit, mulling over what to say. It's better than keeping his nose firmly in the book, he reminds himself. It's not sending the incorrect message that he does not wish to talk to her at least. He steals a glance at her again, steeling himself for trying to make conversation happen.]
[Why must it be so difficult?]
Did you give up on trying to wake Nero this early? [Vergil would find it odd for him to be up this early, but Kyrie appears dressed already. It suggests there's a plan for the morning at the very least, and it seems unlikely to Vergil that she would not pry the youngest descendant of Sparda from bed for whatever it is rather than going alone if that's what it took.] He sleeps just as heavily as his uncle.
[Unlike Vergil who remains a fairly light sleeper when not ill albeit not as a light of a sleeper as he was a year ago.]
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The silence between them is not exactly comfortable, but it doesn't feel horrifically awkward. She considers that a mild improvement. Somehow she feels that chattering about inane things isn't exactly Vergil's forte, so she knows better than to try and fill the silence with small talk. There's four minutes of steeping time to kill, she wonders what to bring up. He then brings up their mutual favourite common interest and she smiles, shaking her head. Nero's fast asleep and she's inclined to leave him that way, they... well. They might have been to bed early last night but that doesn't mean they'd been early to sleep. She smiles, trying not to look too smitten by the memory of him curled up in the pillows.]
No, I didn't even try, to be honest. He looked so peaceful I thought I'd let him sleep in.
[Honestly, given that the weather's so lousy she has half a mind to climb back into bed and make a lazy morning of it, but she had a plan for the morning and she's loath to give up on it.]
I wanted to go and explore one of the farmer's markets and surprise him with breakfast, but it looks like the weather had other plans.
[As if to punctuate her disappointment, there's a brief flicker of lightning somewhere off in the distance, followed after a slight delay by a distant growl of thunder. Rain starts to rattle against the window pane and Kyrie sighs, cradling her cup in her hands and swirling the brewing tea around, watching it darken as the tea leaches out into the water.]
Never mind, I suppose I'll make do with what we have here and go later, maybe there'll be something good I could pick up for lunch.
[She looks across to give Vergil a bright, friendly smile and then happens to read the gilded words on the spine of his book.]
Oh! You're reading Little Women?
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[He hasn't the time to say anything about the matter of the farmer's market before her attention is on his book. Vergil's gaze moves from Kyrie down to the nearby book, and he would be lying if he did not feel an impulsive urge to draw it closer to himself. He tamps down on such a defensive response though.]
Yes, [he says, drawing his attention back up to Kyrie.] I have read it several times these past few weeks. It is not a particular favorite of mine, but Beatrice loved it and it had been a long time since I read it.
[He leaves it at that, not divulging anything further regarding his motivations for reading it.]
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I used to love this when I was younger, my father and I would read it together.
[It's been such a long time since she read it, who would have thought that was something she had in common with Nero's mother? She remembers their old copy with the frayed ribbon attached to the book that served as a bookmark, the worn gilded lettering and patterns on the cover and the pretty marbled paper on the inside. It had been such fun to trace the patterns on cover's border while listening to her father read it, curled up on his lap on the big leather wingback chair in his study.
It's been a while since she'd thought of those times.]
I always found myself wondering if having a sister would be the same as it was in the book, or if it would be the same as having brother but a girl.
[...so much for steering away from inane conversation.]
It always made me cry though. When Beth dies. I couldn't imagine- well I suppose I can now.