[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.]
[The family painting above the mantelpiece is something Kyrie's studied quietly some evenings while Nero's insisted on doing the dishes so she could put her feet up. It's been an oddly humanizing thing to see the family as they were, and then to look up at the young faces of Vergil and Dante and recognize familiar features from when Nero was a child. Hard to believe that it's a legend, living as a man, raising children and loving a human woman.
It's so normal.
She looks over at the picture, briefly admiring it with a smile.]
I know he's not human but is it strange if I say that he looks it? I mean no disrespect, I just- every image of him we were ever shown was of someone otherworldly and almighty, we were never told anything of his worldly life.
[She takes a sip of her tea, pondering what it must have been like growing up without any knowledge that one's father was literally a god to some people.]
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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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
It's so normal.
She looks over at the picture, briefly admiring it with a smile.]
I know he's not human but is it strange if I say that he looks it? I mean no disrespect, I just- every image of him we were ever shown was of someone otherworldly and almighty, we were never told anything of his worldly life.
[She takes a sip of her tea, pondering what it must have been like growing up without any knowledge that one's father was literally a god to some people.]
Did he have a favorite story he'd tell you?