Mizu stands as well and leaves the bowl on the table. Manners are good, but time with Vergil is better. She stands, staying back, and lets Vergil do the absolute shortest way to get them somewhere private. It's unnecessary, yet Mizu cannot help but smirk at the way he uses Yamato immediately to his benefit after so long a period apart. How frustrating it must have been to have to go everywhere like a normal person losing time to things like the train and walking. Vergil's sensible enough that she doubts he uses it within Epiphany himself, the same way she doubts they're going to his one room apartment now. Even if no one were there when he left, they could be there or return any time. It's no longer a place they can be, the two of them.
She takes his hand and walks through the wound in the walls of the universe. Mizu turns immediately to look behind her, to see little for her trouble, at the disconcerting fact she knows she's gone from one region to another with nothing to give it away save for the strange surroundings for a single step or two. It seems like it should feel like more, for all it accomplished.
Then Vergil kisses her, and the concerns, little wriggling things in the back of her mind, melt away. Mizu kisses Vergil back and grabs his collar to hold him there. So long apart, she's loathe to give him up. Were it not just for the emotional, if repressed for their position in public, conversation they were previously having, Mizu might press Vergil into the door and kiss him until his lips bruised (and healed, as they always do). More, further, once they step through that door. She banks that passion with the contentment of being together again, with all the same emotions passing between them.
"By far," Mizu agrees. She still runs her thumb across the inside of his wrist. Mizu cannot help the smile that takes hold of her face, though she leans her forehead against Vergil's. Her breathing is even and calm.
She pulls back and looks at Vergil. He could readily have distracted her further but didn't. That wasn't the purpose, and Mizu appreciates that. "I'd like to understand what Nero spoke of and hear about it from you, but it is your choice how much you would like to share right now. I won't push."
Thirteen may not be the one who chose to tell Mizu about it. Nero may even think she already knows, but it wasn't Vergil. Yet again, it wasn't Vergil that's raised the question of something in his history between them. That's prone to happen more, the more people from his world arrive here, his family especially. Yet Mizu knows how much harder it is to speak of something when it's raised by another. Even agreeing to discuss what they witnessed, Mizu wasn't ready, truly, to speak of swordfather with Vergil that time. Not to the level of intimacy Vergil witnessed in her memory.
At the same time as she has that respect and a willingness to wait to hear more about the difficult parts of Vergil's past, they promised each other their whole selves. Mizu will wait, but she wants to know more about Vergil, to know all of him. She doesn't want to run against wall after wall after wall. All while knowing she's the same, and it's Vergil's ignorance that spares certain topics from conversation.
His disadvantage, having more revealed, isn't something she'll ever use against him. So in the end, the matter is in his hands.
no subject
She takes his hand and walks through the wound in the walls of the universe. Mizu turns immediately to look behind her, to see little for her trouble, at the disconcerting fact she knows she's gone from one region to another with nothing to give it away save for the strange surroundings for a single step or two. It seems like it should feel like more, for all it accomplished.
Then Vergil kisses her, and the concerns, little wriggling things in the back of her mind, melt away. Mizu kisses Vergil back and grabs his collar to hold him there. So long apart, she's loathe to give him up. Were it not just for the emotional, if repressed for their position in public, conversation they were previously having, Mizu might press Vergil into the door and kiss him until his lips bruised (and healed, as they always do). More, further, once they step through that door. She banks that passion with the contentment of being together again, with all the same emotions passing between them.
"By far," Mizu agrees. She still runs her thumb across the inside of his wrist. Mizu cannot help the smile that takes hold of her face, though she leans her forehead against Vergil's. Her breathing is even and calm.
She pulls back and looks at Vergil. He could readily have distracted her further but didn't. That wasn't the purpose, and Mizu appreciates that. "I'd like to understand what Nero spoke of and hear about it from you, but it is your choice how much you would like to share right now. I won't push."
Thirteen may not be the one who chose to tell Mizu about it. Nero may even think she already knows, but it wasn't Vergil. Yet again, it wasn't Vergil that's raised the question of something in his history between them. That's prone to happen more, the more people from his world arrive here, his family especially. Yet Mizu knows how much harder it is to speak of something when it's raised by another. Even agreeing to discuss what they witnessed, Mizu wasn't ready, truly, to speak of swordfather with Vergil that time. Not to the level of intimacy Vergil witnessed in her memory.
At the same time as she has that respect and a willingness to wait to hear more about the difficult parts of Vergil's past, they promised each other their whole selves. Mizu will wait, but she wants to know more about Vergil, to know all of him. She doesn't want to run against wall after wall after wall. All while knowing she's the same, and it's Vergil's ignorance that spares certain topics from conversation.
His disadvantage, having more revealed, isn't something she'll ever use against him. So in the end, the matter is in his hands.