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October-November 2024 Test Drive Meme
October-November 2024 Test Drive
Introduction
Welcome to Folkmore's monthly Test Drive Meme! Please feel free to test drive any and all characters regardless of your intent to apply or whether you have an invite or not. All TDMs are game canon and work like "mini-events". For new players and characters, you can choose to have your TDM thread be your introduction thread upon acceptance or start fresh. Current players are also allowed to have in-game characters post to the TDM so long as they mark their top levels ‘Current Character.’
TDM threads can be used for spoon spending at any time by characters accepted into the game.
Playing and interacting with the TDMs will allow characters to immediately obtain canon items from homes especially weapons or other things they may have had on their person when they were pulled from their worlds! There will always be a prompt that provides some sort of "reward" to characters who complete certain tasks.
🦊 New Star Children meet the Fox still in their worlds, and she brings them into the new realm of Folkmore. As you follow her, your body begins to change and new characteristics emerge. These may stay for a while, or perhaps they will hide away after. And during all of this, the Fox explains to you where you will be going: to Folkmore. Then you fall like a shooting star, falling to the land in a burst of starlight.
🦊 Experienced Star Children are already familiar with this time of the month. There are shooting stars all across the sky, and some fall to the land, which means the Fox has brought new arrivals. These newly arrived Star Children will face some tests, but Thirteen wants the more seasoned residents to participate as well.
Content Warnings: Natural Disaster/Natural Disaster Relief
It seems as if the Star Children will be restricted to Amrita Academy forever, when nothing changes at the one month mark. Yet, after another week has stretched endlessly past, a morning dawns to show that the moat of Lorasses has vanished. The way is clear to discover what the chaotic storms have left behind.
Most of Folkmore's resident spirits return. Good thing Catbus is among them because the train is not operating. Debris litters the tracks throughout the land. Someone's going to have to work to clean all of that up before normal schedules can resume... within the first week or so, everyone fervently hopes.
That is far from the only wreckage from those storms. As Star Children have seen, even Amrita Academy hasn't really been spared; between the Lorasses moat and the various structures built to weather the storms, the past weeks have left a mark on the school.
The rest of Willow shows signs of extreme growth and age, as if decades, not weeks, have passed. Epiphany and Tides suffer major flood damage, and Exile is entirely soggy and saturated with a sense of sorrow. Avalanche debris covers Wintermute, and the mountains aren't in the same place. Cruel Summer is even dryer, cracked, and in part of it littered with exploded, partially melted robot parts. Never Fade may be the best off; the ground has leveled off, and only the unsecured outdoor items have crashed around or dropped off the island. In general, all regions show signs of warping.
Talaria has been outright knocked down (once again) and will need to be rebuilt (once again). The contents of Talarian homes have been thriftily saved by Thirteen (yet again). They'll be back as soon as the homes are ready to be redecorated! There's also a new elevator connecting Tides to a platform in the ocean at surface level, making it a little bit easier to get in or out of the neighborhood. Fly, swim, or use a boat from Nereid marina to reach it.
Many of the buildings throughout Folkmore, businesses and residences alike, have been damaged, some past the point of habitability. For better or worse, some residences will wait unclaimed, as their resident spirits have not returned from wherever they went while gone from Folkmore. Newly arriving Star Children (or those interested in relocating) just might find those residences awfully appealing. As with all unoccupied homes in Folkmore, they're free real estate.
Each neighborhood has a new (and structurally-sound) building near its center: a hospitality station of sorts, stocked with basic foods (to suit a variety of dietary needs, relevant to the known local residents), clean water, personal protective equipment, basic tool kits, fresh clothing, and clean linens. For those ill equipped to cook for themselves for whatever reason, there's also a canteen/soup kitchen area. The canteen tends to collect idle spirits and Star Children who might be willing to assist with any cleanup tasks too big or too complex for one person to tackle on their own.
Working with the neighbors has an additional benefit, of course: sooner or later, whether while helping clear the train tracks or fixing up someone's home or business (including a Star Child's own), shifting the debris will reveal a weathered container of some sort, locked up tight, that will only fall open at a touch if and when the right Star Child finds it. There is only one chest per Star Child. Inside, is an item from home, either that of the resident whose house/business it's found in or the one keyed to the lock. It may even be a magical item or weapon.
There's some good news as well, in the midst of all the chaos: most Star Children will find that their homes are wholly unharmed; their pets, companions, Pokémon, etc. are all hale and hearty, having spent the entire time cozily asleep in their boxfoxes — which can be reused if kept, and just as easily abandoned now that they've released their occupants.
It seems as if the Star Children will be restricted to Amrita Academy forever, when nothing changes at the one month mark. Yet, after another week has stretched endlessly past, a morning dawns to show that the moat of Lorasses has vanished. The way is clear to discover what the chaotic storms have left behind.
Most of Folkmore's resident spirits return. Good thing Catbus is among them because the train is not operating. Debris litters the tracks throughout the land. Someone's going to have to work to clean all of that up before normal schedules can resume... within the first week or so, everyone fervently hopes.
That is far from the only wreckage from those storms. As Star Children have seen, even Amrita Academy hasn't really been spared; between the Lorasses moat and the various structures built to weather the storms, the past weeks have left a mark on the school.
Other regions show clear signs of the warping they have endured similarly.
- Wintermute alternated between blinding light and pitch blackness, with mountains growing and crumbling away alike. Cabins were transformed into igloos.
- Willow experienced all the seasons in a matter of days multiple times, growing crops and new trees, losing old ones, and its buildings weathered as though through decades.
- In Epiphany, the streets ran with water so high it was difficult to walk, and the buildings shifted to reflect related settings.
- Cruel Summer grew hotter and more oppressive, so that survival away from the Selkie River was impossible. On the 13th, there was an explosion, and it rained robot parts.
- Exile was swallowed entirely by the Swamp of Sorrows, leaving no dry land.
- Tides filled with water, dark deep water that could not readily be seen through.
- Never Fade became even more purple, with a thick haze that erased visibilty of borders. It also became steeper, so there was no flat ground.
The rest of Willow shows signs of extreme growth and age, as if decades, not weeks, have passed. Epiphany and Tides suffer major flood damage, and Exile is entirely soggy and saturated with a sense of sorrow. Avalanche debris covers Wintermute, and the mountains aren't in the same place. Cruel Summer is even dryer, cracked, and in part of it littered with exploded, partially melted robot parts. Never Fade may be the best off; the ground has leveled off, and only the unsecured outdoor items have crashed around or dropped off the island. In general, all regions show signs of warping.
Talaria has been outright knocked down (once again) and will need to be rebuilt (once again). The contents of Talarian homes have been thriftily saved by Thirteen (yet again). They'll be back as soon as the homes are ready to be redecorated! There's also a new elevator connecting Tides to a platform in the ocean at surface level, making it a little bit easier to get in or out of the neighborhood. Fly, swim, or use a boat from Nereid marina to reach it.
Many of the buildings throughout Folkmore, businesses and residences alike, have been damaged, some past the point of habitability. For better or worse, some residences will wait unclaimed, as their resident spirits have not returned from wherever they went while gone from Folkmore. Newly arriving Star Children (or those interested in relocating) just might find those residences awfully appealing. As with all unoccupied homes in Folkmore, they're free real estate.
Each neighborhood has a new (and structurally-sound) building near its center: a hospitality station of sorts, stocked with basic foods (to suit a variety of dietary needs, relevant to the known local residents), clean water, personal protective equipment, basic tool kits, fresh clothing, and clean linens. For those ill equipped to cook for themselves for whatever reason, there's also a canteen/soup kitchen area. The canteen tends to collect idle spirits and Star Children who might be willing to assist with any cleanup tasks too big or too complex for one person to tackle on their own.
Working with the neighbors has an additional benefit, of course: sooner or later, whether while helping clear the train tracks or fixing up someone's home or business (including a Star Child's own), shifting the debris will reveal a weathered container of some sort, locked up tight, that will only fall open at a touch if and when the right Star Child finds it. There is only one chest per Star Child. Inside, is an item from home, either that of the resident whose house/business it's found in or the one keyed to the lock. It may even be a magical item or weapon.
There's some good news as well, in the midst of all the chaos: most Star Children will find that their homes are wholly unharmed; their pets, companions, Pokémon, etc. are all hale and hearty, having spent the entire time cozily asleep in their boxfoxes — which can be reused if kept, and just as easily abandoned now that they've released their occupants.
- The moat is gone! Freeeeeedom!
- The train is not operating for one week until October 27th due to debris over the tracks.
- Every region of Folkmore shows scars from the past month's extreme disturbances. Things have not reverted to before.
- Most spirits have returned; some remain absent. Claim the free real estate, if quick or bold enough.
- Hospitality stations have appeared in each neighborhood stocked with food, water, clothing, and linens.
- The canteens serve as a social hub and place to ask for/volunteer assistance.
- One time only, cleaning up or moving debris will reveal a container holding an item from home: yours or the person's you're helping.
- Most Star Children's homes will be unharmed; any damage should match the region's damage flavor. The level of destruction is up to you.
- Creatures in boxfoxes are out, fine and dandy! Boxfoxes can be kept/used again.
Offshore near Agrona Academy, there's something new. Something bewildering, maybe. Something growing. There's also something swimming up to any Star Children near the coast: a very large sea turtle, not willing to come far ashore. She's singing and chirping to get attention, in case being big enough to have a six-foot-long shell isn't quite good enough for some reason. (Or the way she has a blue-green bioluminescent glow when underwater, as becomes quite visible around dusk.)
She's happy to explain that she needs a place to lay her eggs. She doesn't have eggs to lay, just yet, but she wants to have her place all ready anyway. To that end she's busily building a brand-new island not very far from shore. It's just over there, visible once she indicates it with a flipper, barely any higher than the waves cresting around it. Here's the sad part: while she's used a great deal of cleverness in building it, from rocks and sand and bits of broken reef, she's all out of construction materials that she can reach! So she needs help: more construction material for the island.
It seems she's got a very loose definition, though, so pretty much anything that can later be covered in sand or dirt is fair game. Lucky that she wants it now. There's a perfect place todump all that debris in the ocean recycle all the debris, anything not structurally sound enough for a repair-in-place job. Bigger is probably better, too. Work together with other Star Children to haul up the big stuff. It brings more and more joy to her songs as she finds the exact place for each and every item, making her island grow bigger and bigger.
Anyone who actively participates will be rewarded five (5) spoons by the turtle directly, as a thank you for helping her to keep her eggs safe. (If anyone asks, she'll explain that it's the number of limbs she has, so she thought it was perfect!) In addition, she gives each person a smooth and shiny sea rock that fits in their palm perfectly! If the island gets big enough to be more than a sandbar, anyone who helped with the construction will find it far more welcoming than those who didn't. She isn't expecting to use anything but the beach.
She's happy to explain that she needs a place to lay her eggs. She doesn't have eggs to lay, just yet, but she wants to have her place all ready anyway. To that end she's busily building a brand-new island not very far from shore. It's just over there, visible once she indicates it with a flipper, barely any higher than the waves cresting around it. Here's the sad part: while she's used a great deal of cleverness in building it, from rocks and sand and bits of broken reef, she's all out of construction materials that she can reach! So she needs help: more construction material for the island.
It seems she's got a very loose definition, though, so pretty much anything that can later be covered in sand or dirt is fair game. Lucky that she wants it now. There's a perfect place to
Anyone who actively participates will be rewarded five (5) spoons by the turtle directly, as a thank you for helping her to keep her eggs safe. (If anyone asks, she'll explain that it's the number of limbs she has, so she thought it was perfect!) In addition, she gives each person a smooth and shiny sea rock that fits in their palm perfectly! If the island gets big enough to be more than a sandbar, anyone who helped with the construction will find it far more welcoming than those who didn't. She isn't expecting to use anything but the beach.
- A large sea turtle—with a 6 foot in diameter shell and about 3 feet tall at the shoulder—starts building an island off Cruel Summer.
- She needs help getting more building supplies. Bring your debris, bigger the better, here!
- All Star Children who help will be rewarded five (5) spoons and a shiny and smooth rock from underwater that fits in their recipients' palms just so.
- Star Children who help find the island more welcoming than those who didn't.
no subject
He purses his lips, cutting himself off. It's difficult to explain now to someone else what was going through his mind at the time even if he understands and knows what was true. He had lost to Dante when he fell into the Underworld. He suffered yet another defeat as Nelo Angelo. Vergil could not let it stand that he was weak and helpless, lesser than his brother in every way that mattered to him. Not when it still felt that Dante had never known the loss and pain and grief that Vergil had, and not fought for every scrap that he had. But that was not what truly laid within his heart. He wanted his power and his strength returned to him, of course. He could not die the weaker and lesser son of Sparda. But he had been too afraid to accept what he truly wanted. Just as he always had been.
Vergil finally pulls his gaze back to Mizu. Forcing himself to look at her, although that look that was there in his eyes a moment ago has been forced back as well.
"My time as human showed me how wrong I had been. I could finally see how much I had thrown away and ruined in my pursuit of power. But I could not right those wrongs on my own." V did not possess the strength to defeat Urizen while the demon king was reliant upon the Qliphoth as part of his continued existence. He needed Dante to intervene, and he needed Nero as a contingency should Vergil's aims have succeeded and ultimately overwhelmed his twin. He's quiet a moment, gaze lowering for a brief moment before he looks to Mizu again. He reaches for her hand finally, just his fingertips finding hers tentatively. "I still cannot even as I am now."
Vergil is not speaking of the mayhem he's wrought on the human world in his pursuit of power. The portals that opened to the demon world and even the Qliphoth tree were ultimately all things that were within his power to act upon and manage. Dante did not need to follow Vergil to the Underworld to sever the roots or to close the portal, and Vergil told him as much before they began the task. It is everything else that he means. The harm and hurt he's caused his son (and his brother). The time he lost and the life he very nearly never had a chance to live. The isolation he imposed upon himself in thinking there was no other way, in thinking he could not stand nor bear the weight of grief again. Vergil is a man saved, but he could not begin to argue that he is a man found. He is constantly still so lost within the maelstrom of his emotions, feelings and connections that he has not permitted himself in decades. If anyone were to ask him what he wants, what future he seeks, Vergil isn't certain he could truly provide an answer. Not enough of one that gives the notion there's altogether much in his mind's eye beyond the immediate because it's all he's ever known. It's all he's ever dared to reach for.
And he is certainly not a man redeemed.
But he wants to be. He wants to be a man that was brave enough to face his fears instead of constantly running from them. He wants to be a man who both loved and was loved. He wants to be the brother that Dante has always needed and wanted and deserved, and he wants to be the father Nero needs him to be. He wants to be strong enough to have what he wants and to keep it protected. But these are not things he can do on his own, in any semblance of isolation.
Vergil does not know if Mizu understands what he means entirely. It's possible that the implication passes her by entirely, or that she recognizes it, but rejects it entirely. Neither would particularly surprise Vergil if either is the case given what he knows she tends to think of herself and how she's responded to such comments from him before. But he has had to start somewhere. Regardless of how she perceives herself, she cannot deny that. And whether she accepts his feelings as they are or not, she also cannot ultimately deny that it was here and between them that Vergil started. That some part of him that wanted began to want again, and he allowed it. Under a tight control and not without a significant amount of anxiety and doubt, and needing ample time to think it through, but he allowed himself to pursue something he wanted all the same.
And it gives him the strength now to pursue what he wants with his son, with his brother. No matter how difficult it may be, and how much Vergil may need to confront and wrestle with. He is not willing to give up on it now. Not so easily.
no subject
Mizu watches Vergil and meets his gaze, and she misses the lost child who was there before because she, the same as everyone else who at best ignored her, did not reach out the hand she wanted to receive, the hand she received from swordfather. Vergil may not have wanted it in this moment, but it's one irritating point of anger to lose banked for another day.
Then comes the change Vergil has spoken of before in less direct terms to these events, including some credit he's given to Nero that he even gave Mizu a chance. Vergil cut himself in two and became demon and human, and human he learned what he speaks of. Mizu wonders whether he looked the same as he does now or whether being purely human perhaps made him a more usual height. An idle light musing among all the serious revelations. Again, the fact remains that his harm to Nero to obtain the Yamato led to these positive changes that Nero may wish for. Ironic.
Her fingertips curl to hold his closer, to hold him closer when he finally reaches for her. She's grown so used to his touch, to intimacy not only of words but their bodies, so that the return to her natural state feels harsh and painful in comparison. It anchors Mizu as well as him, and her thoughts race to understand what he says.
Again, Mizu knows only what Vergil has told her of his latest state before the fox spirit found him. He was in the demon world, closed off from the human one, and forced away from Nero. They handled whatever he'd wrought, and he needed only to find his way home. So much as those wrongs could be righted, they have been. That information, along with the reason for this whole conversation, permits Mizu to piece together the likely possibility that Vergil means the situation with Nero and from that also Dante. His family, the people he cares about. The apology Nero wants that Vergil did not know about until Mizu told him. Whatever Dante needs. Whatever else those relationships take.
He could hardly look to a more doubtful partner than her, but Mizu at most could only be a small portion of what he means. They've connected, and however difficult it is for Vergil to tell Mizu about losing to Mundus, losing himself, and all he's done, none of it harmed Mizu, so it is far easier to tell her than to tell Nero or Dante. An easier step forward. Before. Now. In the future. As one of only two people Mizu cares about in Folkmore, a fact she cannot thanks to the last trial, Vergil has Mizu's support in whatever inadequate way she can provide it, for Mizu knows she's not someone skilled at this. By far the opposite.
Mizu rests her other hand atop his, a pitifully small gesture but one in line with what he's shown willingness to accept in the moment, and looks at Vergil with steadiness that feels absolutely false.
"You're not alone," Mizu says. It is both true and an ashy lie in her mouth. Mizu knows she'll leave him some day, that her words do not promise forever, not even as long as the fox spirit may permit them. She means them in that moment, she means them for however long she is in Folkmore. She means them, and half of her wishes to bolt from her own residence before Vergil tosses them back to her unwanted. Today, tomorrow, whenever he doesn't want or need her anymore. When he has Dante and Nero back emotionally. That's fine. Until then, until she leaves Folkmore or he doesn't need her, Mizu is here for him. So she stays put and squeezes his hand.
no subject
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.
no subject
With no more than that small invitation, Mizu joins Vergil on the couch and settles with his head in her lap. One hand slowly brushes through his hair, and his hand is warm in hers. She could sit there quietly as long as he wants, content with the connection they have. He's told her the truth and put words to it aloud. It's a first step for him in making things right with Nero. No immediate answer comes to mind for how he could explain all that to Nero and how Nero could understand. Simple statements alone don't communicate why or understanding. Mizu experienced that herself. Yet more... Mizu doesn't know how Nero would take it, even if Vergil shared it all. Such a simple thing Nero asks, but so complicated to give. No matter what it means for her, Mizu wants it to go well.
She holds Vergil's hand and rests the other. Neither of them can decide what Nero will do. Mizu's done what she can. Vergil will do his best—she believes that wholeheartedly because Nero means so much to him, what he wants so terribly to do well, to have, and to make right. The calm that rests in her is one that comes when she's committed, when the battle cannot be stepped back from, and what will happen will happen. Strange for this scenario perhaps, but it's better than the uneasiness, uncertainty, and pain of before.
So much has happened in the last month or so, so much changed since Folkmore shifted around them, and more for Vergil than for Mizu. Yes, they've both experienced the shift in what is between them, but Vergil's gained his brother and his son. Only a week or so since Nero arrived, and it changes everything. It changes Vergil. It changes Mizu's life by consequence. Mizu cannot get what she wants in Folkmore, where people do not stay dead, but Vergil wants a relationship, and that Folkmore provides the opportunity for. Perhaps that means Vergil will not leave it, not while Nero and Dante are here. Not while he can have what he wants. What is Folkmore versus his home while he can have it here? She's happy for him, she truly is.
"He is," Mizu agrees, "and he's going to spar me." Mizu frowns slightly in memory of what Nero said. "He's definitely going to hold back too much. Doesn't want to hurt a human."
Even if Mizu qualifies, she doesn't want nice gloves treatment.
no subject
"I would not take it personally," he says with a slight shake of his head. "He has agreed to fight with me again, but on the stipulation of 'friendlier terms' than our first."
While Vergil could make the argument that their first battle was on friendly terms as it pertained to either party's willingness to seriously hurt or outright kill the other, Nero still clearly found Vergil's approach to be too intense. Or, at the very least, far greater when considering lengths Vergil was willing to go than he was looking for in a rematch. It is something Vergil is willing to adhere to, and while he will not necessarily soften his approach altogether, certainly he could accommodate Nero's request and stay his blade before it has the opportunity to slice or impale. It makes enough sense to do it that way anyway while Nero is still learning to navigate his demonic power now that it has been fully awakened. Vergil has to admit that it will make for a better opportunity to learn for Nero if it falls within the parameters of what he's comfortable with rather than stepping beyond.
"Nero is driven to protect others," he says. Vergil remembers as V, near to when and where everything began before he came to Folkmore, Nero struggled to walk away from Dante, from people who were already dead. While it was likely some part of it wounded pride—he is Vergil's son, after all—and anger at the way Dante tried to push him our, there was a strong will to protect others. So, Vergil doesn't know how much Nero necessarily believed his grandfather to be a god before, but he knows Nero was certainly not able to escape that will to defend someone who may be unable to defend themselves. Then again, that was more likely a credit to his mother more than anything the Order might have tried to impress upon him. Or, at least, Vergil would like to think so. She had not exactly been the most devout when their paths crossed, and rather than carrying on with the tenets of the Order, she marched to the rhythm of her own drum. It's what she would have imparted to Nero most certainly. "I know it likely goes without saying, but he is just as stubborn as I am in his convictions. You will not convince him to treat the fight differently regardless of how hard you push him otherwise."
He pauses before adding, "Perhaps you could look at this as a learning opportunity still. He may not fight to the extent that you desire, but Nero is still skilled within his own right.
"He's quite good at wrestling."
Not that Vergil is going to exactly part with how he knows this information. He will leave it to Mizu to speculate on just how...firsthand Vergil's knowledge happens to be if Nero happened to leave that detail out.
no subject
So Mizu hears Vergil. She's listening, even, but Mizu takes Vergil's statement with a grain of salt. Vergil is stubborn, so likely Nero is too yes. So is she. No less stubborn than either of them, and the idea of fighting people of similar skill to Vergil but different style and preferences calls to her. The victories too, when they come, should mean something more than, say, Nero holding back or refusing to take her seriously as an opponent. So Mizu will see. Not killing her, after all, involves holding back.
The last statement makes her brows knit together. Mizu looks down at Vergil's head in her lap. It would seem like a strange turn of the conversation save that it has to be relevant. It has to tie back to some confrontation between Vergil and Nero or... when would Vergil have the chance to witness that otherwise? It is difficult to imagine a fight between Vergil and someone turning into a wrestling match when it matters most. His skills with a sword seem the better play for him and more in his character. Perhaps he might wind up wrestling with Dante sometime, but this is Nero.
"Better at wrestling than you?" Mizu asks. She still needs to grapple with Vergil again after her ambush by the pool, but while it's not her primary skill, she's far better than she was months ago. It presents another possibility, Nero being good at it. The Mandalorian who taught her has since left Folkmore, which put a stop to those lessons.
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Not that Vergil cannot hold his own well enough hand-to-hand, but there is a difference between competent knowledge and skill in something, and truly having passion and mastery over it. Vergil can throw an effective series of punches and kicks when he needs to, but unlike Nero, it does not occur to him to utilize moves like that mid-sword fight. And that is why it is quite easy for Vergil to acknowledge that Nero may very well possess the greater skill. It also does not hurt that it is something for Vergil to take pride in that his son has taught himself something as well as Nero has taught himself wrestling moves to fight with against demons.
"I am not ashamed to admit that he managed to catch me off-guard with it when we dueled one another." A brainbuster was not exactly the anticipated outcome when Vergil charged in, fully transformed, but it's what Nero gave him for his troubles. "I don't imagine if he intends to hold back as much as you believe he will that he would do the same to you as he did to me, but I'm sure you could ask him provide you opportunities to practice hand-to-hand."
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Vergil seems to think along the same lines, and Mizu hums in agreement. "That would be good," Mizu says, "For all the reading I've done on London, I still have no idea how it will be to go there. I certainly cannot bet everything on having my sword. I did not even bring a sword to confront Fowler in Edo. The fox spirit came when I was deciding whether or not to plunge his dagger deeper into his neck."
Fowler, for his part, tried to buy his life with that one word. A foreign city Mizu knew nothing about. "White men may not be demons to you or to Nero, but they are mine."
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Instead, it is her comment about White men that catches Vergil's attention. They haven't really talked about it. Mizu declares herself a demon because of her lineage, but Vergil has never once called her as much. That is about as far as the conversation ever tends to go with Mizu changing the subject abruptly. Mizu is not one for arguments, Vergil has observed that much and knows that to be generally true of her. If there is a difference of opinion, she does not concern herself much with attempting to change the minds of others. But it has always struck him as somewhat odd that despite such obvious disagreement, she has never really taken the time to lay out her perspective in more clear detail. Even if Mizu is unwilling to argue or seek to change the mind of another person, she is not incapable of at least providing her reasoning before letting a matter drop.
All but this one matter, in any case.
"Does it bother you?" he asks. "When I call you a human, does that bother you?"
Vergil anticipates she will answer the question at the very least, but a deeper explanation may not occur. While he would ideally like one so that he can better understand Mizu, he is willing to accept the answer at its face with nothing more.
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"I know what you mean when you say it," Mizu says. "What it means doesn't bother me." She lacks demonic power the way Vergil has it. She's not that kind of demon. She's not claiming to be one. She even understands why Vergil does it, the difference it means in his world and in his view and that it does affect how he sees her (whether that's for how much force and ability he can use against her or what it means to be part-demon for him).
Yet.
The feeling remains, sticking in her side. It's a small angry point that remains, one that Mizu hasn't expected to change. No, Mizu doesn't think about it or expend time on it. There's no need, no reason. It just is. So she hasn't thought about the words, even for herself, to what it means and how she feels.
"It bothers me," Mizu answers, "It erases a huge portion of my life and who I am. I am as much a half-devil as you even if you are blind to it, and I still face what that means though no one understands it here, no one but the damn fox spirit."
The artist or the demon. Which will Mizu turn out to be? She doesn't know, they are both possibilities. Ignoring it or pretending it isn't real doesn't make it disappear.
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"Help me understand it then," Vergil says, his words a request and not a demand. Mizu still has the right and the ability to refuse. But she is ultimately correct in that he does not understand it any better than anyone else what she means when she calls herself a demon. It is also true, however, that he cannot possibly understand it if she does not explain it to him. "I only have the context of what a demon is in my world, which we both know you are not, and I've never thought you attempted to claim you were exactly. You've never explained to me what it means in your world."
He pauses a moment, a thoughtful look on his expression before he adds, "And I've not thought to ask."
Vergil believes that has been partially due to his own ignorance and assumptions, and partially to her avoidance of discussing this topic at any particular length. It is difficult to think of such a question when the topic appears to be otherwise taboo.
"You say it erases a large part of you though, and I've no desire to do something like that even out of ignorance because I meant what I said when I told you I want everything." He strokes the back of her hand lightly with his thumb. "So, help me understand."
CW: references to imperialism, colonialism, sexual exploitation, child murder, internalized racism
She's only spoken of being a demon with swordfather, and Master Eiji's words travel with her. However, in none of that did Mizu have to explain why she was a demon or what kind of demon she is. She hates the idea of talking about it further, of laying out exactly how she's the demon everyone's always thought her to be. Flashes of memory pass before her, each one a scene embodying her demonhood.
It feels like the direct opposite of the times Vergil calls her human. Instead of cutting out the demon inside her, it carves away the rest until the demon is all that remains. The conversation itself could invite the demon to take two chairs. Mizu squeezes his hand and controls her breathing. It centers her. It's worth the time to clear her mind.
"White men are demons," Mizu says, "They came to Japan with guns and drugs and their god. They dealt in misery and death, spitting out ruin in their wake. Japan has flesh traders. They continue their filthy practice to this day, but white men took it further. They took daughters and treated them like animals. Abijah Fowler had his way with as many women as he pleased, and when they had children, he killed them mother and child alike."
He was so proud of it too, of cleaning up his mess. Mizu can only assume him smart enough to realize one might come after him some day, and the problem is easier handled when they cannot defend themselves. They all must think that. Why else try to kill her? Why else keep the bounty on her head?
"They are demons, and as the child of a white man, I am made of that violence and horror, and I am as capable of it. I've done it. Not guns or drugs or their god, but misery and death. I've sold my services with my blade for both coin and information. I kill whoever I must to have my revenge, even should it only be their misfortune, not their evil deeds, that condemns them."
Mizu waves a hand and growls. "That does not adequately explain it, not even close."
"But no human has destroyed a whole city in Japan. Only an onryō could do that."
cw: reference to ritualistic murder & blood sacrifice
Vergil doesn't believe his arguments would bear much weight in any case. The frustrated growl that leaves Mizu as she feels she is inadequately explaining the matter to him is a telltale sign that whatever he says will most likely end up dismissed. And Vergil does not see that as a fault of Mizu's stubbornness so much as he recognizes she is attempting to explain her core to him. Another person commenting upon that is never going to be received particularly well regardless of the points they raise. But even knowing this, Vergil believes it would be remiss of him not to say something, not to offer his perspective for her to do with as she will.
"In my world, what you've described," he says, "a demon would be capable of doing if provided with the means to do so. They driven by strength and a lust for power, and they seek to conquer and rule. That is why they are generally incapable of love or regret and remorse. But so, too, could a human do those things with just as much malevolence and cruelty as a demon."
For as weak as Vergil has always viewed humans because of those feelings demons typically find foreign and unknowable to them, he's never been ignorant to their own capacity for cruelty, too. Just because it is a rarity among their species when taken as a whole does not mean it does not happen. After all, he need only look to Arkham alone as an example for that. He was born a human, and yet his lust of power saw him sacrificing his loving wife, and manipulating his daughter to providing her blood all so that he might steal the power of Sparda for himself. There was no devil within that man that drove him to those extremes.
"The real difference between a devil and a human in my world is not the abilities or appearance, but their ability to choose. A devil is cruel because that is his nature. A human is cruel because he chooses to be." Vergil shakes his head slightly. "I believe I understand the distinction in your world as best I will be capable of understanding without being from your world. But from my perspective, you remain a human not because you are innocent or incapable of cruelty. You are human because you have chosen to be cruel in pursuit of your revenge.
"And I know it to be a choice because you would not speak of it as you do if it were truly your nature, Mizu." Vergil releases her hand to instead hold her face, fingertips grazing briefly along her cheekbone before his palm cups her cheek. "You may still think I am wrong, and tell me so. I will not argue against it any more than I am arguing now. I am only saying this so you understand that while I may not know the details of every cruel thing you've enacted, I am not ignorant of it. Nor am I ignorant of what you may yet do. But regardless, if you are much a half-devil as I am as you claim to be then I cannot possibly see you as a demon condemned by his nature.
"When I call you human, it is because I believe you possess a strength far greater than any cruel nature that might be ascribed to you by anyone, including yourself." Vergil gently rests his forehead against hers. "You always have a choice, Mizu."
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She listens to Vergil's response, unsure what it will be but not expecting it to be simple acceptance. It focuses mostly on his world's definition of demons and human, of their natures, and thereby what he means by it. While it's entirely in line with how he's spoken of demons before, if not laid out so clearly then, Mizu cannot ignore the giant demon flag in everything he says: Sparda. His father loved his mother, defended humanity, and closed off the demon realm. Those are hardly the acts of someone incapable of love and regret and remorse. They are not the actions of a being that cannot choose but to be cruel. If one demon of his world can be all the things Vergil ascribes to humans, is it so much that the others cannot or simply do not? Are they not so shaped by their experiences, whatever they be in the demon world, that they are what they are—born into such circumstances as Mizu might find relatable until their path is set, and nearly none would turn away from it. Would not her siblings, if they lived, also devote themselves to the same bloody path? Where is the difference?
She closes her eyes, her forehead pressed against his, her cheek in his hand, and Mizu does not deserve the softness or kindness Vergil gives her. He does not need the details. Mizu need not detail every cruel deed she's done, every innocent life she's taken, so that he believes her. They exist, and they're there unspoken. They haunt her and are her burden to bear.
"What is the crueler or more terrible being: one that has no choice or one that chooses to be cruel?"
Her words are quiet, not what she meant to speak of next, but for all Vergil said, those last words echo around her. She has a choice, and she's chosen again and again and again, whether it was to stand by and let Akemi be taken or the shogun killed or whether it was to kill innocents herself or whether it was to inflict harm on men no more ignorant or cruel than any others while letting other men continue their paths of cruelty.
Mizu does not know what strength Vergil means, not when she turns everything she has, everything she is, toward her revenge. It is not that she considers herself weak, but she does not see how the two can be cleaved so neatly. It was her rage that turned the fight against Fowler to her favor in the end, the unleashing of everything inside her, no matter that he was the larger, stronger man with her in his grip. Her demon was stronger than his. Her need for revenge stronger than his need to dominate Japan.
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No amount of time as V or observations of Nero's strength would have dissuaded Vergil from his path if all he was in the end was his cruelty whether it was chosen, incidental, and instinctive.
"These very same hands that touch and hold you are stained with the blood of thousands of innocent lives, and among them my brother and my son. You know this. But I do not believe you think of me as a cruel man, nor do you think me a heartless devil." Vergil does not bother to point out the quite obvious fact that if she did feel that way about him, she would not have attempted to cross the moat to try and find him. She would not have allowed him to share her bed, or entrusted him with her secret. She would not promise him everything, nor accept his everything in return. She would never run her fingers through his hair, or seek closeness with him for warmth. She would not have traveled all the way to Epiphany to try and find him today, and hold his hand beneath the table. Vergil would not be seated here on her couch, her face in his hand, and so close they share breath with one another. "Whatever cruel things you have done, and whatever cruel things you may yet do, I cannot think of you as cruel. Regardless of how you might try to convince me otherwise whether by words or actions, there is still a heart that beats within your chest. One that hurts and wants, hates and loves."
Again, Vergil does not present this as an argument against how she sees herself. As much as he would like to argue that point, he knows that's not an argument he can make let alone win. But he can reconcile the cruel things Mizu has done in the past, and what cruelty she may yet enact in her quest for revenge with the person he knows Mizu to truly be. His feelings for her are not in spite of anything. They are for the whole of who she is, her everything that she has promised him, and that includes her capacity for cruelty as much her capacity for something softer and kinder. Vergil does not believe the month in Amrita was enough for her to see there was more to her than just her quest for revenge, that there were things she wanted if she gave herself the opportunity to want them. Not in the face of a lifetime of throwing everything that she is and will be into her revenge. But as far as he's concerned, it still proves there is more to her than the demon that others have proclaimed her to be, that she has wrapped herself in being. And all he can do is hope that she might yet see that someday whether it is with him or far beyond their time together in Folkmore.
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She is an onryō, a demon that cannot be at rest until it is satisfied. In the past, when great leaders were killed unrighteously, they became onryōs that shaken the nation until the wrongs were set to rights. The Four Fangs may be right, that history will not know her name or her deeds, but she has watched the shogun die and made Edo burn. Japan may only know rest because the storm of her being must turn toward another country and another city.
Mizu brings her hand back to cover his on her face. She knows he's killed many, probably more than her, in his time. Mizu's known of that since they met, but Vergil is not a cruel man, a callous one at times, yes, but would not anyone the world has turned their backs on do what it takes to survive? They cannot all manage it. People die all the time, but Mizu does not judge Vergil poorly for what he's done, though she does not ignore the harm it's done to many people and more personally, more visibly, to his family. Her care for him could not be rocked at the revelation of whatever other cruel deeds he's done that she knows not about.
It is both predictable and in its way frustrating for him to turn the same logic on her, the same way she feels about him reflected back. It sets aside whatever she is, demon or human or both, without concern for the answer. Without seeing her the way every last person in her world has looked at her, including her mother, Mikio, Ringo, Taigen, and Akemi. Even, at one point, Master Eiji. Tears well up in her eyes and threaten to spill over.
"That is an onryō," Mizu says, "A demon older than white men and what I've been called over and over all my life. People say it when they see my eyes, but I have been an onryō since the fire in the woods and the moment I first swore vengeance. Hatred is not enough to make an onryō and only part of the reason for its power."
She leans harder into Vergil's hand, able to accept both that she is a demon and that she has a heart. Able to recognize that he cares for her. Mizu takes the hand she holds and settles it over her chest. "Master Eiji may not have recognized it when he first took me in, but it was there even then. That oath of vengeance has carried me forward and helped me survive when others would simply give up."
Strange that Vergil's the one comforting her when it feels only moments ago Mizu was comforting him. They're fully dressed sitting on her couch, faces close but nothing more than the intimacy of hand over hand and breath on breath, yet it feels as vulnerable as when she unbinds her chest. Mizu takes deep breaths.
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Vergil is certain another would argue with her. Even he must admit, there's a degree to which it is certainly a tempting path to take in this conversation. After all, there's little doubt she'd feel her swordfather's tongs atop the crown of her head if he heard her accuse him of not recognizing a child when he took her in. Master Eiji may not have been privy to all of her secrets, and he may yet not know all of them, but a child is a child no matter their birth, their origin, or whatever vows they've made. Another might take it a step further and argue that it was not her drive for vengeance that guided her steps, allowed her to survive, and they would name something else. If they were wise, they would name something else that is true, but if not, it would be flimsy untruth presented to her. But Vergil also knows that any other who would argue could not be here with her now, hand above her heart in such tender vulnerability. He knows better than to make such arguments even when he can spy the flaws in her thinking about herself.
But a Pebble of the brook...
"Do you know what I see when I see your eyes?" he asks after allowing her a moment of her steadier, slower pulse. "I see a fire set ablaze inside you when we cross blades, willing your victory to manifest. I see when they brighten and shine because you're happy, and when there's a dark look about them because you're frustrated or disappointed. I see them harden with focus and determination when you speak of your revenge. I see them soften as you fend off sleep for as long as you can or when you think I'm not looking.
"They are neither the eyes of a demon, nor are they hideous to me because I do not see an onryō. I see you reflected in them, Mizu." Vergil moves his hand from her chest to gently wipe away unspilled tears from her eyes. "I should not have allowed you to dismiss what I said that day by the water because I feared your rejection. The truth would always be what it is and you would know of it.
"Whether you agree with me or not, you are beautiful."
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Mizu looks at Vergil, so much as she can see him, when he asks that question. She focuses on her breathing, rather than finding words, because she can tell that Vergil is about to tell her. Mizu is not sure what to expect in the next moment and could not predict what it might be, not whether that be to confirm what everyone else says (but he does not care) or mundane eyes or... what. Mizu braces herself and listens.
The cadence is not right for it to be his poetry, and the examples become far too specific to be penned by another person's hand. They're words, only words. Unexpected and something Mizu did not know about her own eyes. She never realized they express so much when they stay the same unnatural blue at all times. It isn't even Akemi's attempt at deception by comparing them to the color of the ocean. Nothing Vergil says even touches on the color of her eyes. It's— why?
Then he mentions Mizu dismissing something he said, and she racks her mind to review everything they said that day, when they spoke about so much, but Vergil gets to it before Mizu remembers that brief exchange. She forgot about it the moment it was over, until such time as Vergil brings it up again. She pulls back far enough to stare at him, to see that his face is sincere and matches what he's saying. It's not some joke to get her to believe him then laugh at the fact Mizu would ever believe someone would consider her beautiful.
She's not. Mikio never commented on her looks again after their first meeting, which Mizu took for honesty and appreciated over any attempt to pretend she was any better than less hideous than he expected. Mizu's never questioned that Vergil's attracted to her physically as well as emotionally (hard to argue with undeniable evidence), but that's a far cry from beautiful. She's a far cry from beautiful. Her head shakes slightly on instinct, but Mizu tamps down an immediate verbal response given she's reacted once before.
Perhaps it's less a matter of physical beauty than beauty of spirit, even though Vergil commented on her eyes. They communicate her emotions. She's emotive. That makes more sense. Mizu can hide her thoughts and feelings when she needs to, when it serves her goals, but otherwise, she does not tend to bother. While it's mildly embarrassing to think of Vergil catching her staring at him, she's far too late to practice doing that and especially around him.
It leaves her with no words and uncertain what to say. Mizu cannot agree with him, but it is not the time to disagree. Time continues to pass, silence that stretches beyond comfort, she's sure. She's frozen until her mind catches on a minor part of what he said.
"You feared my rejection?" Mizu asks in surprise. And in a teasing tone. "For bad vision?"
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So, the silence does not fill him with disquiet because silence with Mizu is not the same as being ignored. Her contemplation, he knows with almost perfect certainty, does not entail determining how to let him down in the kindest manner possible. It is a matter of integrating what he has said with what she knows, and those two pieces do not settle well next to one another.
Her response... Well, Vergil cannot say he anticipated that she would return with her own expression of her feelings, nor some obvious acknowledgment of what underlies his words. But he still feels some part of himself deflate in disappointment as she opts to make light of what he says. He tries hard not to let it slip into his expression, but his attempt at the brief flicker of a smile at her joke likely looks more a grimace than a smile as he is now the one left with no words and uncertain what to say. Well, perhaps not without words. There are some he could say, but he remains uncertain of saying them aloud now. For the first time since sitting up, he looks away from her and down at his hand that has uselessly landed in his lap after wiping away her tears.
"Something like that, I suppose," he says faintly, not allowing the silence to stretch beyond what's natural.
It's strange, he thinks. It is no easy task to tell Mizu of his failures, of his shortcomings. The shame he feels rises all the same when telling her as it does when the thoughts plague his mind or his dreams alone. The unwanted sense memories run through him, leaving him cold and small and more afraid than he'd ever care to admit to being. The crushing sent of regret in the wake his own blindness and wrongdoings never abates simply because she is there to witness it in some capacity. But he never worries so much what she thinks of it. There's a strange, calm assurance he feels each time that she shall find within her understanding. Even if it takes a while and a series of questions to get there, she finds that understanding. And yet, he is petrified to tell her this one thing.
Vergil tries to tell her. He truly does. He borrows beautiful verse from those that profess such romantic love to be among the most sacred things one can encounter in life, a reflection of the natural divine in the world around them. He makes it clear that he values their time together, not passing on opportunities to be with her when they present themselves and in how his attention so often undivided upon her. In making love to her, he is nothing short of worshipful and reverent in his affection. And just now, he's tried again with his own words albeit not so direct a confession as simply naming it. But nothing in part nor whole appears to make it feel seen or heard in its entirety, and sometimes he feels the battering and bruising on his heart in her continued ignorance as he does now. And yet, Vergil finds himself without the bravery to be so direct. For all that he can say to her, he is afraid to say this one thing and see her rejection whether it comes by directly in her words, or indirectly in her actions.
He sits up, saying nothing else, and turns to face forward on the couch once again, remaining close to her as their shoulders and arms touch. Vergil does not fault her, much as it probably would be easier to do as much. Instead, his hand closest to her seeks her hand out again, intertwining their fingers. She has at least thought about it this time, and he tries to find comfort in that even if he feels the acute sting of dismissal once more as well. At least it was not as cold a slap as the first time when it came at more of a surprise when it arguably should not have. At least this time, he was prepared.
Or so he tells himself, anyway.
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His words feel empty and hollow after the intense focused sincerity that came before. Withdrawn, the same way he sits up and turns away from her. It is something, Mizu supposes, that he stays on the couch instead of rising and leaving. She too adjusts her position to face forward instead of facing him, and her cabin feels cold and broad, an expanse such that an enormous gulf lays between them where they sit on the couch, no matter that their shoulders touch. That Vergil would fear her rejection, when the only form of rejection that might come is the choice of her revenge over everything else, shocks her. It shocked her the most of everything he said, and though the conversation turned stunted, rather than addressing it, it continues to confound her.
Vergil takes her hand, and Mizu holds his hand tight, as though he might otherwise vanish on her for whatever stupidity she has but does not understand. The irony that he spoke so highly of her eyes but will not meet their gaze does not escape her. Perhaps they also express her foolishness, something Master Eiji could not hammer out of her. Mizu rubs her thumb across the back of his hand.
"You may not see me as an onryō, but you may yet see me as swordfather does—a fool."
Whether that be reflected in these last few moments or many of them from the times they've sparred or further others, Mizu's not ashamed of the fact she can in fact be foolish. Vergil's called her that before when he's seen her actions warrant it. Her words are not a joke, and Mizu understands there may be some truth to them not only in general but the current circumstances. The statement isn't an apology but an understanding that she has come up short, even should she not understand how. Mizu only hopes it hasn't broken something between them.
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"I already do," he says, but not with any cruelty or malice. If anything, it is that same gentle fondness that he sometimes permits, sometimes cannot help when calling her a fool. Mizu holds his hand tight enough it could almost be considered painful were it not for the movement of her thumb against the back of his hand forcing a little looseness to her grip. The fact she does this is enough evidence of her foolishness alone, but she also possesses a habit of consistently sampling the taste of her shoe. Vergil draws her hand into his lap, holding her hand in both of his in a mirror of her earlier choice in holding his hand. "But I assumed that went without saying."
Much as it goes without saying that Vergil is not going anywhere. If that had been his intention, Vergil would already be gone by now with little Mizu could do about it. But he is still sat here on this couch with her hand in his. And besides...
"I've missed you," he says, looking at her again now that he's had a moment to regroup. It's foolish, he knows. It has only been a matter of days if one does not wish to accept a week's passing as the measure. But it's true all the same. After a month of Mizu as a constant, he's missed Mizu's company and presence and her warmth in bed beside him in her absence.
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It leaves the conversation about her demonic nature as far behind them as the one about Vergil's past. It's no longer the time. Vergil may not understand it entirely, but he has a better idea what she means and its significance to her. That is enough for now.
Vergil says what Mizu's felt stupidly the last week, even as she gave him space and time with his family. She missed him until her selfishness exceeded wisdom not to push and force herself into wherever that is for him. Early times, she supposes, since he did not know about the desired apology. Her grip both loosens on his hand, and Mizu squeezes it. "I've missed you too."
Already Vergil's been to her cabin more than anyone else. Most others are limited to one or two visits, those limited to business, because Mizu chose her place for solitude and for the comfort of the cold and the snow. They've spent more time together in quiet company at the library or his place, though the latter is less the place for it now. "You're welcome here without excuse." Mizu glances over at the stairs to the bedroom at the top of them. "Even to stay the night."
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He wrinkles his nose slightly at her invitation. Or rather, at the initial phrasing of her invitation. A light tease to the information Thirteen parted with regarding Vergil's tendency to find reasons to see her as a means of masking his more true desire and intention of just simply wishing to see her. The invitation itself does not earn such a look, however, because it does not escape Vergil that it's still a choice on her part. Mizu values her privacy greatly. She would not have chosen this cabin if that were not the case. That she is willing to allow him the ability to come here to be with her anytime he desires it still means something regardless of their relationship or time spent together.
"I would like to tonight," he says without hesitation, not caring if it presents as overly eager. If it has somehow escaped Mizu's notice that Vergil unquestionably desires her company, that is her own folly at this point as far as he's concerned. "I will need to return to Epiphany at some point to finish gathering supplies from the hospitality station before I can stay."
If for no other reason than to make sure Nero and Dante don't make any false assumption when Vergil does not seem to return home for the night. At the very least, if they're not home when he returns home with the food and other necessities, he can leave behind a note that he will be gone for the night and will return in the morning and return to her as soon as the task is complete.
"But I believe we've a few hours before I need to leave."
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Mizu blinks a moment in surprise that Vergil accepts the open offer most immediately, but she quickly feels warm, wanted, and pleased. He said he missed her, and Mizu believed him, but he missed her enough to want to stay when given the chance. Her smile feels dumb and wide on her face, but Mizu cannot hide that she is pleased. There's no anxiety around it, not only because she keeps a tidy house so that there's no embarrassing mess upstairs but because she means the offers she makes. If she weren't ready and happy to have him that night, no matter how unexpected he would take her up on it, Mizu wouldn't say it.
The practicalities make sense. Vergil came for food, and even if he's not there, the other two will still need it. They are adults capable of obtaining food (and both social enough there is no concern they will lack the means to do so, to be forced into stealing it, when even so oh yes it is also offered for free currently), but they are Vergil's family, so he's providing for them. It's her fortune that's the only obligation Vergil feels he must keep before he's here for the night.
Mizu neither suggests their spar immediately nor drags him up the stairs to bed (an unnecessary step, given it is her home and her home alone if they wanted to taste each other's warmth immediately). She swings her feet off the floor to rest her legs across Vergil's lap, lifting his hands with hers, and leans her head on his shoulder. Mizu's missed him, and she's missed this, these quiet moments together.
"Then I will keep you here a while longer yet, before you finish the task I distracted you from," Mizu says. Her posture is terrible, but she doesn't care. Nor does it matter that Vergil could easily push her legs aside and leave if he wanted. She does what she wants, unashamed to put herself closer to him.
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"I am powerless before your whims," he teases lightly before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. And yet, despite it being a tease, it's not altogether that off the mark. There's not likely much that Mizu could or would ask of Vergil that he would deny her. Not when it's just the two of them like this. He rests his cheek against her head. "I shall have to use the time to devise a means of escape lest my brother and son are left to starve."
He will do no such thing.