["...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.
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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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
[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.
no subject
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?