Vergil is able to say it far easier than he thinks he perhaps ought to be able to say it. It's not as though it's left Vergil's mind or awareness that their time together is limited in one way or another. At some point, this will come to an end, and in the ideal scenario for the both of them, it's likely they will never see each other again afterward. That should be enough to shake his confidence in that implicit promise to remain with him and to allow him the grace to stumble and fall when he chooses poorly or does not know the way just as much as she is there to celebrate his successes. It should be something in the forefront of his mind that she may very well not leave because of him or something he does, but rather there needs to be an end to her bloody task awaiting her in her own world.
But none of that is what comes to mind for him when Mizu says he is not alone. It is not even the here and now. Instead, it is the small comfort in knowing that she has changed him, and regardless of where they end up in an hour from now, a day, a week, or a year... Nothing can unmake that change. Nothing can really take the feelings he's held for her away even if they should fade or change over time because they happened.
Vergil gives a small tug to her hands to guide her from the coffee table across from him to the couch beside him. Scooting over a little, Vergil lays down and rests his head in her lap once she's settled. There is no one else around in Mizu's cabin, but still Vergil hides his face from the rest of the room by facing her. Spreading his fingers, he loosens the hold they have over the other's hand without separating their palms. Her hand is smaller than his and her fingertips rougher and more calloused from both her work as a swordsman and a swordmaker. Vergil slots his fingers between hers, more properly holding her hand again as he simply nestles in closer to her. There's a furrow in his brow as he lies there thinking.
"I don't know that I can tell him all of it," he confesses after a moment of quiet. Vergil doesn't know that Nero can understand it even half as well as Mizu, and to some extent, he hopes not. Mizu understands it because she, too, has been alone for the majority of her life with few who cared one way or another if she lived or died, and hunted for the sole crime of existence. He would not want that for Nero. He would want Nero to find his logic baffling at best, horrifying at worst, but not anything that he can offer such a degree of empathy and understanding for. Really, the most Vergil allows himself to dare hope for is that Nero understands Vergil would never do anything willingly to hurt him. In a different state of mind, with the knowledge he has now... Vergil isn't so certain he would still live and breathe. He never would have found it in himself to hurt his son so even at the cost of his own life. He'd rather die a weak, pathetic disgrace than that. "But what questions he asks, I will answer the best that I can until he understands. His judgment of it will be for him to decide."
And realistically, there is little more that Vergil can do than that. But despite that fact and the calm in which he says it, Vergil still cannot help that spike of anxiety over it all the same. Nero says he wants to give Vergil a chance. So, that implies Nero does not see Vergil as an inhuman monster. He sees something that he wants to know better for himself that goes beyond the simple longing for a father in his life. But it is hard for Vergil sit with his past actions knowing that any one of them could potentially tip the scale just a bit too far, to find something Nero eventually deems unforgivable. So, a chance is a good thing. It's a wonderful thing. It fills Vergil with untold amounts of joy and happiness to know Nero wants to give him a chance, wants to build a relationship between the two of them without any doubt or uncertainty. But it also allows old anxieties and insecurities to once again whisper that despite his best efforts, Vergil could lose it all through his own shortcomings and failures and weaknesses. Or, worse yet, his presence and influence could irrevocably harm Nero in some manner just as he knows with little doubt he would have if he had known and stayed in Nero's life.
"I keep thinking it is a dream, and any moment, I might wake up," he says with a soft huff. "But he's here. My son is really here, Mizu."
It's small given everything, but it still manages to put a smile on Vergil's face. Because Nero is worth the risks and the possible heartache. He barely knows his son realistically, but he knows that to be simple fact. Terrifying as it is, Vergil has no desire to waste the chance Nero is willing to give him, and he is determined to prove himself worthy of it.
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Vergil is able to say it far easier than he thinks he perhaps ought to be able to say it. It's not as though it's left Vergil's mind or awareness that their time together is limited in one way or another. At some point, this will come to an end, and in the ideal scenario for the both of them, it's likely they will never see each other again afterward. That should be enough to shake his confidence in that implicit promise to remain with him and to allow him the grace to stumble and fall when he chooses poorly or does not know the way just as much as she is there to celebrate his successes. It should be something in the forefront of his mind that she may very well not leave because of him or something he does, but rather there needs to be an end to her bloody task awaiting her in her own world.
But none of that is what comes to mind for him when Mizu says he is not alone. It is not even the here and now. Instead, it is the small comfort in knowing that she has changed him, and regardless of where they end up in an hour from now, a day, a week, or a year... Nothing can unmake that change. Nothing can really take the feelings he's held for her away even if they should fade or change over time because they happened.
Vergil gives a small tug to her hands to guide her from the coffee table across from him to the couch beside him. Scooting over a little, Vergil lays down and rests his head in her lap once she's settled. There is no one else around in Mizu's cabin, but still Vergil hides his face from the rest of the room by facing her. Spreading his fingers, he loosens the hold they have over the other's hand without separating their palms. Her hand is smaller than his and her fingertips rougher and more calloused from both her work as a swordsman and a swordmaker. Vergil slots his fingers between hers, more properly holding her hand again as he simply nestles in closer to her. There's a furrow in his brow as he lies there thinking.
"I don't know that I can tell him all of it," he confesses after a moment of quiet. Vergil doesn't know that Nero can understand it even half as well as Mizu, and to some extent, he hopes not. Mizu understands it because she, too, has been alone for the majority of her life with few who cared one way or another if she lived or died, and hunted for the sole crime of existence. He would not want that for Nero. He would want Nero to find his logic baffling at best, horrifying at worst, but not anything that he can offer such a degree of empathy and understanding for. Really, the most Vergil allows himself to dare hope for is that Nero understands Vergil would never do anything willingly to hurt him. In a different state of mind, with the knowledge he has now... Vergil isn't so certain he would still live and breathe. He never would have found it in himself to hurt his son so even at the cost of his own life. He'd rather die a weak, pathetic disgrace than that. "But what questions he asks, I will answer the best that I can until he understands. His judgment of it will be for him to decide."
And realistically, there is little more that Vergil can do than that. But despite that fact and the calm in which he says it, Vergil still cannot help that spike of anxiety over it all the same. Nero says he wants to give Vergil a chance. So, that implies Nero does not see Vergil as an inhuman monster. He sees something that he wants to know better for himself that goes beyond the simple longing for a father in his life. But it is hard for Vergil sit with his past actions knowing that any one of them could potentially tip the scale just a bit too far, to find something Nero eventually deems unforgivable. So, a chance is a good thing. It's a wonderful thing. It fills Vergil with untold amounts of joy and happiness to know Nero wants to give him a chance, wants to build a relationship between the two of them without any doubt or uncertainty. But it also allows old anxieties and insecurities to once again whisper that despite his best efforts, Vergil could lose it all through his own shortcomings and failures and weaknesses. Or, worse yet, his presence and influence could irrevocably harm Nero in some manner just as he knows with little doubt he would have if he had known and stayed in Nero's life.
"I keep thinking it is a dream, and any moment, I might wake up," he says with a soft huff. "But he's here. My son is really here, Mizu."
It's small given everything, but it still manages to put a smile on Vergil's face. Because Nero is worth the risks and the possible heartache. He barely knows his son realistically, but he knows that to be simple fact. Terrifying as it is, Vergil has no desire to waste the chance Nero is willing to give him, and he is determined to prove himself worthy of it.