Having said what needed to be said, what Mizu feels Vergil needed to know, and misjudging a cat's willingness to do anything but she wants (good for the cat) out of a fondness for Vergil, Mizu waits. Vergil had reasons for his actions, no matter how reasonable the request may be, no matter how (practically speaking) simple it may be. Mizu's apologized when it does not matter, when etiquette and simple things get her toward what she wants. One that matters? Mizu's never managed that. She's never attempted it. She doubts Vergil has either. So as simple as point a to point b may look, it is not a straightforward path, and that, Mizu is familiar with. So she doesn't advise Vergil do anything. It is his decision, and it can only be his decision.
Yet Mizu burns to know more. Why Vergil ripped Nero's arm off and how that was the first time they met. How that connects to what makes this particular apology difficult. More about his life in general. They've spoken more of his early life, when he was younger than she is now, than they have of the two decades or so since. He went to the demon world and missed Nero's childhood and much of his life. It's sparse on detail. Mizu does not hold that against Vergil. For all they've promised each other, it comes over time, not as a torrent. It feels as though they build more of a solid foundation that way. Perhaps that is an excuse for not having talked about parts of her past, but Mizu gives Vergil the same grace he gives her. He did not ask for everything at once. Neither will she.
Her heart flops in her chest, a ridiculous feeling that keeps happening, when he thanks her and when he takes her hand again fully. Mizu has better habits than to look conspicuously around them. Her free hand remains above the table, and she squeezes Vergil's hand when he shares Nero has said nothing of the sort to him. What little Mizu can do to support him, she will. Mizu gives a small nod of her head. It leaves her wondering how their interaction (interactions, she hopes) have gone, but again it is not the place.
Not that Mizu pulls back or withdraws her hand from his. Mizu lets her eyes unfocus a moment, her attention directed to the feeling of his palm, his fingers, and the warmth their connection brings. It's only a moment because Vergil asks a question, and Mizu eyes the bowl. Food, good edible food, remains in it. Though Folkmore's returned to being a land of Lore and plenty, it goes against every instinct in her body to waste good food. With one hand, Mizu lifts the bowl to her mouth and, with some mess, gulps it down as quickly as possible. She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth and smiles at Vergil.
"I am."
She doesn't say 'you are welcome' for telling Vergil what she would always tell him. His gratitude is appreciated but unnecessary. Her actions wouldn't change without it, and she's had enough of conversation in this place. Wherever Vergil wants to go to talk, she'll go. Anywhere private is preferable to the canteen that's grown increasingly intolerable.
no subject
Yet Mizu burns to know more. Why Vergil ripped Nero's arm off and how that was the first time they met. How that connects to what makes this particular apology difficult. More about his life in general. They've spoken more of his early life, when he was younger than she is now, than they have of the two decades or so since. He went to the demon world and missed Nero's childhood and much of his life. It's sparse on detail. Mizu does not hold that against Vergil. For all they've promised each other, it comes over time, not as a torrent. It feels as though they build more of a solid foundation that way. Perhaps that is an excuse for not having talked about parts of her past, but Mizu gives Vergil the same grace he gives her. He did not ask for everything at once. Neither will she.
Her heart flops in her chest, a ridiculous feeling that keeps happening, when he thanks her and when he takes her hand again fully. Mizu has better habits than to look conspicuously around them. Her free hand remains above the table, and she squeezes Vergil's hand when he shares Nero has said nothing of the sort to him. What little Mizu can do to support him, she will. Mizu gives a small nod of her head. It leaves her wondering how their interaction (interactions, she hopes) have gone, but again it is not the place.
Not that Mizu pulls back or withdraws her hand from his. Mizu lets her eyes unfocus a moment, her attention directed to the feeling of his palm, his fingers, and the warmth their connection brings. It's only a moment because Vergil asks a question, and Mizu eyes the bowl. Food, good edible food, remains in it. Though Folkmore's returned to being a land of Lore and plenty, it goes against every instinct in her body to waste good food. With one hand, Mizu lifts the bowl to her mouth and, with some mess, gulps it down as quickly as possible. She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth and smiles at Vergil.
"I am."
She doesn't say 'you are welcome' for telling Vergil what she would always tell him. His gratitude is appreciated but unnecessary. Her actions wouldn't change without it, and she's had enough of conversation in this place. Wherever Vergil wants to go to talk, she'll go. Anywhere private is preferable to the canteen that's grown increasingly intolerable.