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