[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.
[At the mention of her loss of Credo, Vergil averts his gaze back down to his food. If he hadn't already felt the urge to draw the novel closer to himself before... Well, he certainly feels a childish impulse to chuck it out of the room now. For as much as he enjoys discussions about literature, Kyrie takes a more personal approach. One that Vergil does not feel comfortable merely existing in the same room with, let alone venturing down as a point of conversation. Especially not given the last time they spoke of loss, hypothetical or otherwise.]
[Vergil doesn't trust his ability to find the right words to say in response, but he also knows prolonged silence is probably not helping matters either. So, he occupies it with a bite of breakfast followed by a sip of tea as a paltry excuse for having said nothing.]
[So much for not making every interaction between them awkward.
The silence is not at all comfortable and Kyrie immediately catches the way Vergil looks straight to his food and tries to look anywhere but at her and realises that perhaps bringing up something as personal as Credo hadn't been the smartest move she'd ever made. Honestly, she could kick herself.
Swallowing, she turns her attention to her tea and spends a second wondering if she should bolt back to her room to escape the awkwardness, but a second later she berates herself for being quite so ridiculous. There's something about Vergil that makes her feel like a child about to be scolded by a school master and it's utterly absurd.
Perhaps she should fight absurdity with absurdity.]
Although my brother would be appalled if he knew I was comparing him to a character in Little Women.
[And suddenly... a long buried memory springs to the surface and she laughs, hand coming up to cover her mouth as it does. Of all the strange coincidences to spring to mind, this might just be up there.]
[He's privately grateful that Kyrie makes the decision to continue speaking and fill the awkward silence. He's not usually one for inane chatter, but with her? The inane chatter is a positive thing, and he welcomes it readily. She stays on the topic of something more personal, but he is not quite so on edge when she laughs to herself. His puzzlement is but a momentary thing, however, as she indicates what inspired the giggling. Vergil huffs slightly, not amused, but certainly not offended. At least the girl is clever and educated enough to draw the connection in the first place.]
I was gifted a copy by someone with a similar sense of humor, if you would ever wish to read it for yourself. Or for Nero, if his recent interest in the classics is robust enough to resist sleep or other distractions. [He sets his tea back down and resumes picking at his food. Vergil doesn't say it, but if she were to try and read it to Nero, Vergil wouldn't be surprised to learn Nero missed every word she said beyond the sound of it because he began with his usual fawning over her, and found that more riveting for his limited attention span. Ridiculous, that child of his...] It is a decent translation.
[With her tea sufficiently steeped, Kyrie removes the teabag and nurses her brew between her palms, taking a moment to enjoy the scent. But then her eyebrows raise at a particular germ of information that truly surprises her.]
How on earth did you get Nero to read the classics? I lost count of the number of times I've tried to get him interested in mythology but he never wanted to to hear about what 'a bunch of old dead guys' got up to.
[She smiles, glancing across at Vergil as he picks at his food. As deeply as she loves Nero, she knows her man will never be a voracious reader. She's more than happy to read to him and knows he'll tolerate it, usually if she's allowed to cuddle up to him or she manages to persuade him to lie with his head in her lap; he's been a better listener than a reader ever since they were children.]
Who gave you your copy of The Aeneid, was it Nero?
[To her second question, Vergil shakes his head slightly. He doubts very much Nero even knows The Aeneid exists, let alone that his father shares a name with its author.]
It was Trish.
[...Who he isn't certain necessarily read it herself. There was the possibility, but... She didn't exactly strike Vergil as the type particularly invested in literature, in any case. Seeing a classic written by an author of the same name would have been enough to tickle her amusement and provide him with the book. Most likely she still banked on Vergil enjoying it, but Trish did appear to be a woman after her own entertainment even alongside a kind gesture.]
I am certain a degree of Nero's willingness is out of a desire to please me. [Vergil is not so ignorant to miss that Nero still goes looking for his approval. It's not as frequent these days, which Vergil hopes is a reflection of security in their relationship, but it is still known to happen from time to time.] While we were reading together, I attempted to help him remember the meaning of "tantalize" based upon its origin. It eventually led to my agreeing to watch a film adaptation of Perseus' story, and he expressed interest in learning more of the mythology.
[Thus, humoring and pleasing Vergil given Vergil's willingness to humor and please him by watching a movie that he otherwise would not have given the time of day.]
[Cutely, Nero expressed a desire for Vergil to read the book on Greek mythology to him. Yes, the book. As in, he assumes there's only one book and not a mountain of texts each with varying authors and arguably a greater number of translators. Vergil at least spares Nero the embarrassment and does not share that portion of his expressed interest with Kyrie. He still faintly smiles at it though, privately amused at Nero's misunderstanding.]
But I also told him that the myths involve a great deal of monster-slaying, and the Greeks themselves venerated wrestling. [In other words, Vergil took it from what Nero would likely assume to be dry, stuffy academic writing to something more aligned with his interests.] That appeared to have captured his interest enough, he asked me to read it to him. It yet remains to be seen if that interest will hold when it actually is being read to him. He often struggles to remain awake when he asks me to read poetry to him.
[Which Nero has assured has nothing to do with the content of what Vergil is reading as it is his comfort while listening to Vergil read.]
[Suddenly, so much starts to make sense. The fact that Nero had genuinely said 'not to belabor the point, the guy's an as- sorry, pain' in conversation was strange enough, but he had actually stopped her dead in her tracks (mid showing off a new nightdress) to call her 'tantalizing'. Not that Nero had ever been inarticulate, but his vocabulary had certainly gained a newfound finesse recently.
Perseus though... that brings back memories. Nero had made her watch some movie about him once, just after they had first moved in together and she had been feeling particularly melancholy after unpacking the last of the salvaged ornaments from her family's home, her mother's collection of little silver animal figurines. It had been a welcome reprieve to focus on the familiar story and marvel at the way the creatures had moved on the screen, even if later movies had become more impressive in that respect. The little silver owl creature had been particularly charming to her, reminding her of the small owl figure she had set on the mantelpiece earlier that evening that her mother had especially loved.
...why is everything bringing her back to thoughts of her family this morning?
Perhaps it's because the boot is on the other foot now, and she, not Nero, is adoptee in another family's house.
She shakes that thought from her head.]
I wondered where he was getting those new words from, I've never known him to use 'tantalize' in a conversation before. He must really enjoy reading with you, he's always been far more interested in being read to than reading himself. I've never minded, he's a very good listener.
[And he has been! Always hanging on her every word, it always baffled her how their teachers and tutors said he was a bad student...]
Did you have a volume of myths that you studied or...
[Her cheeks color as she wonders whether she can be bold enough to ask him a direct question that, despite five years of being out of the Order of the Sword's influence, still feels slightly blasphemous to her.]
Did Lord Sp- did your father know of them and tell you?
[Nero has grown more comfortable in asking the meaning of words that he does not know, but Vergil would not anticipate Nero integrating any of them into his vocabulary. It comes as pleasant surprise to hear. One that he cannot entirely contain with the faintest of smiles and a glint of fatherly pride in his eyes. He's able not to get too lost in the warm feeling, however, when she asks after his own reading.]
My father possessed an extensive collection of books he gathered throughout his time among humans. Although there were some books he forbade us to touch ourselves, he did not bar us from his library. [Through his eyes as a child, Vergil simply saw it as an impressive demonstration of just how long Sparda had lived and a physical indicator of his father's wisdom and knowledge. They were mere books, but they were still a part of Sparda's strength and discipline in his eldest son's eyes. It was something to be admired, and Vergil took quickly to trying to replicate in his own way with his own bookshelf. Now...? Well, it remains still impressive to Vergil, but what he thought unique to himself—that connection he struggled to find with others but so readily found in books—he can safely speculate now must have been the same for Sparda. For all that he loved humanity, he was not one of them. He had to learn somehow, and the written word was likely easier than in practice. At least at first.] So, for myself, it was not a matter of either or, but rather both. I read for myself plenty, but I did not refuse to listen should Mother or Father choose to read or recite something to us.
Dante was more like Nero, however, and he preferred to listen to a story rather than read it himself. Although he never had much interest in literature. He mostly demanded Mother to tell us stories of Father when she was putting us to bed.
[Which Vergil still listened to with rapt attention until he could no longer keep his eyes open. Especially after their father's disappearance when such stories and memories were his only real remaining presence in their home. For all that Vergil tried his very best to act unaffected by Sparda's disappearance in an attempt to seem older and more reliable than his years, he still missed his father just as much as the rest of his family.]
[Father and Mother. Kyrie knows it's foolish to be so awe inspired by something as mundane as referring to his parents by those names, but she still finds something in her struggling to grasp at the idea that Sparda, the entity she'd worshipped for the majority of her life as a god, was something so normal as a father who would read to his boys and tell them stories. It's comforting, she supposes, that someone with such unfathomable power, who accomplished mythical feats in his own right, should do something so human as that. It's so like her own father, only he'd be telling her tales of Vergil's father instead of the labors of Heracles or the ordeals of Orpheus.]
I hope... I hope it doesn't embarrass you or make you think I'm still blinded by the Order when I say that your father was my hero when I was growing up. I think perhaps even more so now that I'm piecing together an image of who he was outside of what Sanctus was preaching.
[She won't ask if there's anything of Sparda that Vergil might see in Nero, doesn't want to give the impression that she's some kind of obsessive projecting images of a false god on the perfect, fallible, flawed man she's given her heart to. She shouldn't want to know. Similarities or none, she loves him and nothing will change that.
She does wonder though...]
He must have had some incredible stories, being as long lived as he was.
[Vergil can somewhat understand Kyrie's urge to clarify her feelings towards Sparda. No doubt his father and his legacy remain a somewhat...complicated matter for her. The actions taken by the leadership of the Order likely called into question much of what she had been led to believe, and she had to reconcile the discrepancy behind their actions and the example she was meant to follow. Now she knows not only there are more of his descendants than just Dante around, but she has fallen in love with one of them. Vergil never faced such a complication in his relationship with Beatrice, but he cannot imagine it to be an easy thing to reconcile all the same.]
[It must seem strange to her to have a portrait of Sparda hanging above the fireplace, and it is not one of austere faith. Instead, a depiction of a man with his beloved family. No doubt the photo album Vergil gifted to Dante for Christmas would seem utterly alien to her. Images of Sparda not as a mighty warrior, but a proud albeit perhaps sometimes exhausted father with twin boys running him ragged.]
He did, [Vergil agrees, faintly. What he cannot admit aloud is that much of what he remembers of those stories are fragments now. Eva kept Sparda's spirit alive for her boys after he was gone, but she could not keep him alive. Not truly. For all that Vergil can remember of his father, he remembers him more in pictures than in the flesh. Sense memories of how he sounded or smelled, or what it was to be slung over his shoulder while protesting not to be tired enough for bed faded with the passage of time. And it is not something that Vergil can blame on what became of him. It was simply an inevitability.] As children, there was no one that Dante or I wished to be more like than our father.
[So, while Kyrie's hero worship of Sparda may stem from a different place than his own in his youth... Vergil isn't willing to admonish the girl for admiring his father.]
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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.
no subject
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.
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[Vergil doesn't trust his ability to find the right words to say in response, but he also knows prolonged silence is probably not helping matters either. So, he occupies it with a bite of breakfast followed by a sip of tea as a paltry excuse for having said nothing.]
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The silence is not at all comfortable and Kyrie immediately catches the way Vergil looks straight to his food and tries to look anywhere but at her and realises that perhaps bringing up something as personal as Credo hadn't been the smartest move she'd ever made. Honestly, she could kick herself.
Swallowing, she turns her attention to her tea and spends a second wondering if she should bolt back to her room to escape the awkwardness, but a second later she berates herself for being quite so ridiculous. There's something about Vergil that makes her feel like a child about to be scolded by a school master and it's utterly absurd.
Perhaps she should fight absurdity with absurdity.]
Although my brother would be appalled if he knew I was comparing him to a character in Little Women.
[And suddenly... a long buried memory springs to the surface and she laughs, hand coming up to cover her mouth as it does. Of all the strange coincidences to spring to mind, this might just be up there.]
He preferred the classics, especially The Aeneid.
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I was gifted a copy by someone with a similar sense of humor, if you would ever wish to read it for yourself. Or for Nero, if his recent interest in the classics is robust enough to resist sleep or other distractions. [He sets his tea back down and resumes picking at his food. Vergil doesn't say it, but if she were to try and read it to Nero, Vergil wouldn't be surprised to learn Nero missed every word she said beyond the sound of it because he began with his usual fawning over her, and found that more riveting for his limited attention span. Ridiculous, that child of his...] It is a decent translation.
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How on earth did you get Nero to read the classics? I lost count of the number of times I've tried to get him interested in mythology but he never wanted to to hear about what 'a bunch of old dead guys' got up to.
[She smiles, glancing across at Vergil as he picks at his food. As deeply as she loves Nero, she knows her man will never be a voracious reader. She's more than happy to read to him and knows he'll tolerate it, usually if she's allowed to cuddle up to him or she manages to persuade him to lie with his head in her lap; he's been a better listener than a reader ever since they were children.]
Who gave you your copy of The Aeneid, was it Nero?
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It was Trish.
[...Who he isn't certain necessarily read it herself. There was the possibility, but... She didn't exactly strike Vergil as the type particularly invested in literature, in any case. Seeing a classic written by an author of the same name would have been enough to tickle her amusement and provide him with the book. Most likely she still banked on Vergil enjoying it, but Trish did appear to be a woman after her own entertainment even alongside a kind gesture.]
I am certain a degree of Nero's willingness is out of a desire to please me. [Vergil is not so ignorant to miss that Nero still goes looking for his approval. It's not as frequent these days, which Vergil hopes is a reflection of security in their relationship, but it is still known to happen from time to time.] While we were reading together, I attempted to help him remember the meaning of "tantalize" based upon its origin. It eventually led to my agreeing to watch a film adaptation of Perseus' story, and he expressed interest in learning more of the mythology.
[Thus, humoring and pleasing Vergil given Vergil's willingness to humor and please him by watching a movie that he otherwise would not have given the time of day.]
[Cutely, Nero expressed a desire for Vergil to read the book on Greek mythology to him. Yes, the book. As in, he assumes there's only one book and not a mountain of texts each with varying authors and arguably a greater number of translators. Vergil at least spares Nero the embarrassment and does not share that portion of his expressed interest with Kyrie. He still faintly smiles at it though, privately amused at Nero's misunderstanding.]
But I also told him that the myths involve a great deal of monster-slaying, and the Greeks themselves venerated wrestling. [In other words, Vergil took it from what Nero would likely assume to be dry, stuffy academic writing to something more aligned with his interests.] That appeared to have captured his interest enough, he asked me to read it to him. It yet remains to be seen if that interest will hold when it actually is being read to him. He often struggles to remain awake when he asks me to read poetry to him.
[Which Nero has assured has nothing to do with the content of what Vergil is reading as it is his comfort while listening to Vergil read.]
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Perseus though... that brings back memories. Nero had made her watch some movie about him once, just after they had first moved in together and she had been feeling particularly melancholy after unpacking the last of the salvaged ornaments from her family's home, her mother's collection of little silver animal figurines. It had been a welcome reprieve to focus on the familiar story and marvel at the way the creatures had moved on the screen, even if later movies had become more impressive in that respect. The little silver owl creature had been particularly charming to her, reminding her of the small owl figure she had set on the mantelpiece earlier that evening that her mother had especially loved.
...why is everything bringing her back to thoughts of her family this morning?
Perhaps it's because the boot is on the other foot now, and she, not Nero, is adoptee in another family's house.
She shakes that thought from her head.]
I wondered where he was getting those new words from, I've never known him to use 'tantalize' in a conversation before. He must really enjoy reading with you, he's always been far more interested in being read to than reading himself. I've never minded, he's a very good listener.
[And he has been! Always hanging on her every word, it always baffled her how their teachers and tutors said he was a bad student...]
Did you have a volume of myths that you studied or...
[Her cheeks color as she wonders whether she can be bold enough to ask him a direct question that, despite five years of being out of the Order of the Sword's influence, still feels slightly blasphemous to her.]
Did Lord Sp- did your father know of them and tell you?
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My father possessed an extensive collection of books he gathered throughout his time among humans. Although there were some books he forbade us to touch ourselves, he did not bar us from his library. [Through his eyes as a child, Vergil simply saw it as an impressive demonstration of just how long Sparda had lived and a physical indicator of his father's wisdom and knowledge. They were mere books, but they were still a part of Sparda's strength and discipline in his eldest son's eyes. It was something to be admired, and Vergil took quickly to trying to replicate in his own way with his own bookshelf. Now...? Well, it remains still impressive to Vergil, but what he thought unique to himself—that connection he struggled to find with others but so readily found in books—he can safely speculate now must have been the same for Sparda. For all that he loved humanity, he was not one of them. He had to learn somehow, and the written word was likely easier than in practice. At least at first.] So, for myself, it was not a matter of either or, but rather both. I read for myself plenty, but I did not refuse to listen should Mother or Father choose to read or recite something to us.
Dante was more like Nero, however, and he preferred to listen to a story rather than read it himself. Although he never had much interest in literature. He mostly demanded Mother to tell us stories of Father when she was putting us to bed.
[Which Vergil still listened to with rapt attention until he could no longer keep his eyes open. Especially after their father's disappearance when such stories and memories were his only real remaining presence in their home. For all that Vergil tried his very best to act unaffected by Sparda's disappearance in an attempt to seem older and more reliable than his years, he still missed his father just as much as the rest of his family.]
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I hope... I hope it doesn't embarrass you or make you think I'm still blinded by the Order when I say that your father was my hero when I was growing up. I think perhaps even more so now that I'm piecing together an image of who he was outside of what Sanctus was preaching.
[She won't ask if there's anything of Sparda that Vergil might see in Nero, doesn't want to give the impression that she's some kind of obsessive projecting images of a false god on the perfect, fallible, flawed man she's given her heart to. She shouldn't want to know. Similarities or none, she loves him and nothing will change that.
She does wonder though...]
He must have had some incredible stories, being as long lived as he was.
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[It must seem strange to her to have a portrait of Sparda hanging above the fireplace, and it is not one of austere faith. Instead, a depiction of a man with his beloved family. No doubt the photo album Vergil gifted to Dante for Christmas would seem utterly alien to her. Images of Sparda not as a mighty warrior, but a proud albeit perhaps sometimes exhausted father with twin boys running him ragged.]
He did, [Vergil agrees, faintly. What he cannot admit aloud is that much of what he remembers of those stories are fragments now. Eva kept Sparda's spirit alive for her boys after he was gone, but she could not keep him alive. Not truly. For all that Vergil can remember of his father, he remembers him more in pictures than in the flesh. Sense memories of how he sounded or smelled, or what it was to be slung over his shoulder while protesting not to be tired enough for bed faded with the passage of time. And it is not something that Vergil can blame on what became of him. It was simply an inevitability.] As children, there was no one that Dante or I wished to be more like than our father.
[So, while Kyrie's hero worship of Sparda may stem from a different place than his own in his youth... Vergil isn't willing to admonish the girl for admiring his father.]