#she's a keeper vergil

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Hi, I have a question about the spardatober event. It's just for DMC Character x reader?

In case that it's not, I'd love one of Vergil x Lady that has the dialogue "What are you reading?", Scenario "Exploring a graveyard" and Promp "Big famyli dinner" please.

This combo has a great potential. I love it!

Edit: This is me after finishing it. This has got to be one of the most daring, and interesting things I've written so far.

The graveyard is properly silent. There's not a proverbial soul around.

Except for a lonely figure of a woman walking among the crooked gravestones. She stopped and looked around, the lapels of her long coat swirling around her with a strong gust of wind. She seemed impatient. The woman made another two steps forward when suddenly jolted in surprise.

"Motherfu- The hell are you doing here?!"

He stood there motionless and propped up against a crypt. His long dark coat made him blend with his surroundings so perfectly that Lady had no chance of seeing him from a distance.

Vergil didn't comment on her outburst, in fact, he didn't even look up from the book he was reading. "Waiting for you, obviously. We were supposed to meet there together remember?"

Lady's brow twitched in agitation at his lack of insight. "Of course I do, that's not what I meant! What are you looming here like a ghost?!"

Vergil finally looked at her, both eyebrows rising in question as if talking to an ignorant child.

"Oh, well, I'm interested in how it continues." Vergil gestured to the book he was holding.

Lady growled in frustration and pinched the bridge of her nose. Not even five minutes into this mission and she's already losing her nerve. She knew this would be a disaster when Dante notified her an hour ago about a 'slight change of plans'. She wasn't too excited about it since just like everybody else in the dmc crew, Lady had no idea how to interact with or act around Vergil. Neither they had any desire to.

"Are we going?" Vergil fixed her with an icy unmoving stare.

"Ugh, yes. Let's go."

-

"So what's the scoop?" Lady prompted while she and her demonic companion walked amongst the gravestones. The place was as deathly silent as ever, with only gravel and leaves crunching under their shoes to keep them company. The place was creepy enough already, so she'd decided that talking to Vergil was still better than silence.

"There are reports of an unusual phenomena in the graveyard. Particularly in the area of an old mausoleum."

"Such as?"

"The last people to visit this site described strange shadows moving, one elderly woman said when she visited her husband's grave, a black ooze started to pour out of his coffin. Later when the graveyard's keeper checked the grave, there was nothing in there. What do you think could be the cause of that?"

"Senile dementia?"

To her surprise, Vergil let out a small chuckle "Perhaps, or something more sinister."

They have scouted the ash meadow, then the gravestones closer to the gate. These were the latest additions to the graveyard. Further into the graveyard were much older graves, growing into intricately decorated crypts. These were burial sites of the oldest and often prestigious families. Some of their ancestors were still among the living, most long forgotten. So far nothing, Vergil tried to discern some demonic presence but accept the faint whisper in the back of his mind, there was nothing worth mentioning.

Lady sat on one of the stone benches, clearly frustrated.

"I'm starting to think Dante was pulling our leg."

Vergil watched her. He had no idea how to talk to any of Dante's friends. If it were up to him, he'd go to this place alone. If not for the job then for the peace and quiet the place provided. He sat down next to her, more calmly and quietly while fixing his coat.

Lady watched him for a while without saying a word. Her eyes landed on the book in Vergil's hand.

"What was the book you were reading, anyway?"

"Death and Gravestone symbolism, by Delia Prachi."

"Of course."

"It's quite interesting. Did you know that various symbols on the graves reveal information about the deceased?"

"Fascinating," Lady remarked sarcastically.

"For example," Vergil continued, pointedly ignoring her tone, "if there's an eagle on the gravestone, it means that the person was a civil war soldier, ivy represented friendship, and a vacant chair symbolized the death of a child..."

"Hm." Lady made a noncommital hum and checked her phone, it started to get dark soon, and they still hadn't made any progress, not to mention her effort at breaking the awkward silence worked way too perfectly and now Vergil won't shut up about some stupid book.

At that moment, a movement in the corner of her sight caught her attention. She followed it, noticing something akin to a shadow moving across the gravestones.

"Did you see that?"

Vergil followed her line of sight, "I'm afraid not."

As in a trance, Lady lifted from the bench and followed the strange shadow, with Vergil tailing after her. He put a hand on Yamato's hilt, prepared for any danger coming their way.

As they kept walking the graves became more desolate, the tombstones crooked and bent like teeth of some ancient monster. Vergil looked ahead at the stone buildings. They must be entering the crypt area.

It had a fountain in the middle filled with murky water. A dark, foreboding statue of an angel with its wings folded and curved all around it. Its face was covered in cloak as was the rest of its body. It held a metal lantern raised as if it tried to illuminate the path for wayward souls to find their final rest. The angel of death.

The moment Lady a Vergil stepped amongst the crypts, a heavy and suffocating sadness surrounded them like a dark cloak. It made even Vergil stop in his tracks.

"Wha-"

Whatever question Lady had, it died on her tongue. A bead of cold sweat ran down her face.

A grief like she never felt before had encompassed her completely. It clogged up her throat and turned her legs into lead. When was the last time she felt this hopeless? This miserable?

Images of a graveyard not unlike this one had entered her mind. A freshly dug grave, a coffin with a young woman inside, and a little girl standing above it. The girl couldn't see for all the tears in her eyes. A man's hand curled around her shoulders like a venomous snake.

You're next.

With a tearful gasp, Lady collapsed on the edge of a fountain. Hunched over, she saw her reflection on the water's surface. She's still that little tear-stricken girl she was years ago.

You've been a bad girl Mary.

It's time for a good spanking.

Lady buried her face in her hands, fighting desperately the pain. She was so overtaken by it she completely forgot about Vergil still standing there. However, he paid her no mind either.

His hand instinctively clutched Yamato, more out of the need for reassurance than immediate danger. He was no stranger to pain. In fact, he had a very intimate knowledge of it. However, such feelings usually stemmed from a certain source, they did not just randomly resurface at the most inconvenient times. Which only cemented his suspicion that there was something unnatural in this place. Despite these revelations, he could not bring himself to do anything. Neither fled or fought. He could just stand there hopelessly, being slowly consumed by waves and waves of misery.

His gaze landed on the endless rows of tombstones. How many wayward souls reside in there? Most of them are eroded by ravages of time, to the point no one can make the name of a person on the tombstone, but that's how it always ends isn't it? We may be mourned by a generation or two, but then we are forgotten, discarded. A mere speck in the sands of time swept away.

How many will mourn his passing, if any? Perhaps they rejoice, that the cursed son of the Sparda family is dead at least. Many wished his death, after all, and what about his family? He brings nothing but misery and pain to them anyway...they're better off without him.

Vergil was so deep in his gloomy thoughts he almost hadn't noticed the swift change in his surroundings. Almost. If his senses weren't so keen after a lifetime of fighting for his life in both this realm and another, he wouldn't notice the black shapes rising from the broken headstones and crypts.

"Lady."

No answer.

"Lady," Vergil called for her again, with more urgency as he saw the shadows moving towards her.

"Mary!" That finally caught her attention. Just as the black wraiths reached out with their inky talons, Lady jumped away from the fountain, grabbing her firearms.

"What are these things?"

"They don't seem hostile."

"No, but I am!"

Before Vergil has a chance to react, Lady blasts several bullets into the shadowy creatures. The bullets pass through them with a slight tremble of air. Vergil lets out silent curse as he jumps out of the way of the shadowy limbs trying to catch him.

It seemed that the shadows only dissipated with the slice of his sword. However, the shadows kept multiplying and not even Vergil's enhanced reflexes could keep up forever.

He learned the hard way why they were avoiding the shadows' touch when one misty limb curled around his throat from behind. A sharp stab of coldness ran down his spine, his heart almost stopped beating, and he couldn't move a muscle.

If it wasn't for a few well-aimed bullets he would probably turn into a husk.

"You okay?" Lady asked him with surprising concern.

Vegil didn't answer, his mind still on the brief encounter with the shadow. He had never been this paralyzed with fear, and he met many dangerous things in his life. This fear was almost unnatural, artificial.

"Don't let these things touch you." He growled through gritted teeth.

"Noted." Lady gave him a sarcastic smirk.

With the ever-increasing number of shadows and no plan on how to defeat them, Lady suggested a temporary retreat. They darted between the graves in hopes of dissuading the shadows, until they ended up hiding behind one of the family-sized gravestones, with twin tombstones serving as a morbid seating of sorts.

"Any plans?" Lady asked, breathing ragged from endless running.

"I may have heard about these creatures." Vergil's gaze locked into the distance, deep in thought.

"And? Vegil if you haven't noticed this isn't a tea party!!"

"I'm trying!" He hissed. He sifted through mental catalog of every demon he encountered in his lifetime, and albeit the number was large, there was a not-so-small memory gap from the times he served as a puppet for his dreadful master.

"These things..." Vergil continued, pushing down memories from days long gone. "...are called Sadness...Vestigial Sadness. They are born from the remaining energy of souls that haven't left this plane in peace."

"So, a ghost?"

"No, Vestigial Sadness is most definitely a demon. However, despite being weak, their incorporeal forms make them quite difficult to get rid of."

"Great, and how do we-"

A shadow passed through the tombstone right between them, prompting them to bolt out of the grave and keep running.

"There's gotta be some recordings on these things." Lady huffed. "Or maybe details about that person on the tombstone."

She almost wished she hadn't said the last part when Vergil pulled out the copy of Death and Gravestone symbolism with the most annoying smirk.

Several moments later they were standing in front of an old, decaying crypt. The decorative ornaments and shapes were long ground by sands of time, but you could still distinguish some shapes and faint outlines of names carved into stone.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Lady turned to Vergil who was still nose deep in the book.

"There's faint outline of broken chain. It says there it symbolizes broken family bonds. It could also mean premature death..."

"Uh, Vergil? We have company." Lady nodded her head towards quickly approaching shadows.

Without missing the beat, Vergil sliced the massive lock that held the crypt open and barged the door open. They shut the doors behind them the moment demons shadowy limbs were hairs width away from their faces.

Vergil watched as Lady pulled out can and sprayed the crypt door.

"What is this?"

"Demon repellent, pioneered by yours truly."

"It smells revoltingly."

"That means it's working."

Their conversation was cut by piercing wail that rattled them to the bone.

"Ugh, yep. It's really working." Lady winced with hands over her ears.

"Let's get into work."

With single flashlight illuminating the crypt and horrifying wails of the demons outside, the place became it's own purgatory. Lady frantically looked at every tomb, without really knowing what she's looking for. Once they reached the end of the crypt, Lady pointed the light at the wall in hopes they'll find some answers there.

"Wait. There's something on the wall." Vergil stepped closer to the wall and removed decades of webs and dust. Then, his fingers followed the path of letters since his eyes could not.

"Fate be changed...look inside...hm...there's something else written but I can't..."

"Here, let me." Lady handed Vergil the flashlight which he obediently held pointed at the sign.

"Pride...mend...mend the bond torn by pride."

"Well I think we found our sources of sadness," Vergil directed the cone of pale light on the two graves placed on each side of the sign on the wall.

As if on cue, another terryfing howl resonated through the stony chamber.

"Vergil, that repellent won't hold forever."

"Figured."

Without further discussion, the two of them turned to their respective coffin.

"These are suprisingly well kept," Lady prompted as she wiped the plaque of her tomb. "Morris Coleman, born 1837, died 1855. That's pretty young."

"This one's Simon Coleman, born the same year, died just as well 1855."

"So, brothers, maybe even twins. They died the same year. What do you think was the cause?"

"Perhaps a war, or an illness."

"Yeah but what about that writing on the wall?"

Vergil frowned. 'Torn by pride...'

"Vergil...what if-"

"Don't say it."

"Something happened between those two?"

Her only answer was silence.

Lady cleared her throat. "Anyway, we have some clues, what now?"

"The signs says look inside."

"Ugh don't tell me we're really gonna open these coffins?!"

"The smell won't be as bad as that of your repellent." Vergil spat.

With much cursing on Lady's part, they pride open the first coffin. They were welcome by decades worth of dank putrid smell. Even with hand covering her mouth, Lady still couldn't hold back few coughs. Meanwhile Vergil explored the coffin until he pulled out a silver signet ring with large emerald.

"Vergil look out!!"

He barely dodged a shadowy claws slicing through the air.

"Seems one of them got in." Vergil quipped as he got in fighting stance, yamato in hand. "Open the other coffin while I get rid off this thing," and without another word he charged at the wraith.

With much disgust and muscle strain, Lady pried open the lid of the coffin. This time, she didn't mind the smell since there were other things on her mind, like demons filling the crypt. She ransacked the bones and remains of clothing until she pulled out a ring similar to the other one, accept this one was golden.

She held out both rings in her hand and inspected them closely.

'Mend the bond torn by pride...'

'Mend the bond torn by pride...'

"Vergil! I think I came up with something, but you'll have to keep the wraiths busy."

Vergil slices the Saddness in two with powerful swing of his sword and turned to her.

"Lead the way."

-

Once more, Lady found herself running through the rows of tombstones, this time in another direction. Once this is over I'm visiting mum once a year max. She thought to herself. I place flowers on her grave and walk out.

She finally reached her destination. After the experiences in the crypt, the sight of weeping angel of death was almost welcoming. Her boots squelched as she threaded the murky water of the fountain. Lady had to climb into angel's embrace to get good look at the lantern it wielded. To her relief, there were waxy remnants of a candle.

She placed the two rings inside next to the unlit candle and starting fishing in her pockets for lighter. She remembered stealing one from Nico when her smoking inside the van got on her nerves, then forgot to return it.

She heard a painful snarl as Vergil fought his way throguh the respawning hordes of Vestidigal Sadness, he was losing his strenght, which was obvious by the fact the swarmed and curled around him like nightmarish snakes.

Lady pulled out the lighter at last and with trembling fingers started igiting the lighter, which was harder than usual considering her trembling fingers. She heard another hiss of pain coming from the cumulus of shadows and shuddered. One of these things just barely brushed her and it was like meeting with death, she can't imagine what it was like to be practically swimming in them.

'C'mon, c'mon!!'

Strike. Ignition. And finally, flame.

Lady stared into lantern watching the tiny flame flicker and die...

Then, the lantern bursted with eerie blueish light that almost blinded her, almost pulsing with its own heartbeat. The lantern glowed more brigtly by second. So bright, Lady had to hid her face in the stony drapes of the statues cloak.

Since Lady was too blinded by the light from the lantern, she was oblivious to her surroundings. Vergil, however, saw how with every pulse from the lantern the Sadness' disintegrated with mournful wail. Their deathly cold touch, draining his strenght, dissipated and he was once again standing alone in the middle of a graveyard bathed in etereal light.

And above the fountain, as if rising from the long-dead candle, were two whisps of smoke twirling in unison.

Together...at last...

If anyone asked Vergil he would deny the small smile finding its way to his lips.

-

Vergil and Lady arrived in Devil May Cry sometime after midnight. They haven't spoken for the entire ride home, both still trying to make sense of the last four hours.

When they arrived, Dante was already waiting for them, almost falling asleep from his place behing the desk.

"Y'know if you planned the sleepover on the graveyard I could at least give you some popcorn."

"Shut up," Lady gritted through her clenched teeth.

"Whoa, no need to bitch out at me. Get your ass in the shower before you shoot someone." Not phased by her grumpiness in the least Dante patted Lady on the shoulder as she passed him to head upstairs.

Then he turned to Vergil, smile still plastered on his face even if it faltered at Vergils glare. At that moment, Vergil had chance to study his brother's face in proper. Every wrinkle, every greying hair, the tiredness in his eyes. The image of cruffy, shaggy child who could not keep their shirt fixed flashed through his mind.

It's true they say you get sentimental with age. Vergil mused to himself.

Not giving himself or Dante choice to think about it further, Vergil stepped towards his brother, who defensively jerked back, and wrapped his arms around him.

It's hard to say who was more scared at the moment.

Vergil kept his arms in place, not really knowing where to put them or what to do next, he just boxed Dante, who still stood there frozen in shock, in place. Until Dante slowly, carefully enveloped his arms around hi brother as well. The moment couldn't last more than few seconds, but for the two brothers it felt like hours. When Vergil untangled himself from Dante's arms, he pressed something into Dante's hand and hissed, "Tell someone about this and you're dead." Then walked past him towards the stairs.

Dante, still pretty much schocked, just chuckled.

"Wait, Verge."

Vergil stopped, but did not turn around.

"Nero and uh, Kyrie stopped by for dinner and brought some caseroles. There's still some food left. Say, how about we'll have a midnight snack."

"It's 2 am."

"Then early breakfeast."

Vergil only then realized he haven't eaten since that toast he burned in the morning and conceded. Since Lady was in no state to drive home she joined them in the kitchen. Clacking of cutlery and banging of casserole woke up Nero and Kyrie who desided to spend the night at Dmc.

'How many rooms this place have?' Vergil asked in annoyance as Nero plopped next to him with full plate, trying his hardest to ignore Vergils presence. Vergil looked at his brother for help, but all he got was a thumbs-up. Ugh. It's not as if he has something against his...against Nero, but he can hardly interact with someone outside a swordfight. Combined with the complicated relationship he has with Nero, Vergil avoided interactions with him like plague.

He looked at his plate. Some pasta with creamy sauce and tomatoes. He collected some on his fort and brought it to his mouth.

"This is...good."

"You like it?"

He raised his head at the voice. Nero peered at him from his spot at the bench, hair tousled from sleep.

"Ah, yes. It's very...good." Vergil internally winced. He's so bad at this.

"Kyrie's beef pasta bake is to die for!" Dante grinned at him from his spot behind the table, face full of sauce. "Maybe we'll make a cook out of you yet."

"And bother me anytime you get hungry? i don't think so."

At that, he heard the girl quitly giggle.

Vergil pout another mouthful of pasta in his mouth, deep in thought. He had done things in his life that would be presumtuous to apologize for. Things that he can't take back or fix. People in this room don't have to like him.

He looked at Dante.

But he'll be damned if he left this world with a lifelong grudge being the only thing that follows him to grave for one person that truly cares about him.

#dmc vergil #vergil dmc #devil may cry vergil #vergil devil may cry #vergil sparda #dmc lady #devil may cry lady #devil may cry #spooktober #spardatober #devil may cry dante #dante sparda #hurt/comfort #fluff #domesticity #rainbow dragon writes

[fabdante]

Do you think preboot Vergil could knock reboot Vergil out of his villain arc? Or would Nero be better suited to that? (I feel like preboot Vergil would insist on trying to knock some sense into his alternate universe self, just because Vergil doesn't want his son getting hurt, but I feel like Nero might be better at dealing with reboot Vergil's Issues.) Or preboot Dante? Assuming he could (emotionally) handle fighting Vergil again...

Honestly I think the character most suited to knock Vergil out of his villain arc is Kat. I might be a bit biased here but there is some in game evidence to back me up. Mostly how at the end of the game he actually seems to listen to her a bit before Dante starts to get mad, which gets Vergil mad, and all reasoning with either is out the window. But there's also how in Vergil's Downfall, Vergil actually tries to explain himself to hollow Kat and she's the only character in the game he can't really bring himself to hurt until she turns into a demon. Then there's, of course, the scene where hollow Vergil asks regular Vergil what he'd do if he could do it again and all Vergil can think about is his relationship with Kat which he's kind of messed up majorly so I think like, reboot Vergil despite what he says and does, cares what Kat thinks about him and as a result I think she'd be most able to knock some sense into him efficiently.

If Kat's off the table though, I think each of the preboot boys has their own advantages and disadvantages to trying to talk some sense into reboot Vergil.

I think preboot Vergil is most equipped to fight reboot Vergil, but I don't think he could really muster any arguments that could knock sense into him. Like on the one hand he has dealt with isolating himself from his family and loved ones and humanity and all of that but I also like...don't know how much he cares to argue about why you shouldn't do that? Maybe its just because he's less of a talker.

Nero I think is the most equipped Sparda to play peace keeper just like...in general. He doesn't really deal with everyone's shit, which is crucial to trying to knock reboot Vergil out of his villian arc. Buuuut idk how well he'd be able to fight reboot Vergil.

Preboot Dante on the other hand has a bit of both, the skill set to fight a Vergil and more of the ability to argue with him. But that all said I don't know how much reboot Vergil would care about his arguments asdfghj

It truly is a bit of a pickle. Maybe the true answer is some combo of preboot Dante and Vergil.

#dmc reboot #fab talks #ask #fabtalks

[silverstream2]

For the AU where Abbie sticks around to help Dante raise Nero:

A young Nero (like, 8 or 10) discovering Agni and Rudra and making friends with them, clinging to them like teddy bears. I don't think he'd mind if they talked while he was kicking demon ass, just so long as they didn't do it in public. And they'd make good swords for the boy! Not his usual greatsword (Dante lets him train with Rebellion and Force Edge, until the events of Mallet Island, in which case Nero gets his own greatsword from the Order in Fortuna), but still good, and we all know Nero is good with fire. Dante probably gives him Ifrit, too.

Dante makes sure Agni and Rudra don't do anything to hurt Nero, on purpose or otherwise. The "otherwise" bit takes some flexibility, since Agni and Rudra don't really "get" humans/human society. This means they find Nero's homework very interesting, and sometimes Nero will bounce ideas off of them. Or just watch TV with them (I headcanon him as a TMNT fan), or read books to them. Its kinda sweet.

Other different things:

-Abbie is in charge of finances, which means Dante takes more mercenary jobs, bitch tho Dante might. Abbie tries to have Morrison and Enzo make sure its just bodyguard work, no assassinations or unnecessary killings. Dante needs to take care of Nero, and kids are expensive, so he does it anyway, even if he doesn't like it.

-Abbie also does the cleaning. And the, as she sees it, "easy stuff". Filing, planning appointments, getting groceries, cooking, picking Nero up and dropping him off at places. Because all that is just paperwork and running around- that's easy. Actually parenting is harder. And Dante is better at it with Nero than she is.

-Nero has a few new moves: Summoned Swords, like the ones Vergil uses, but also a stunning move, where Nero basically summons a ball of light and sound and concussive force to stun and confuse opponents. He can also control his Summoned Swords to go behind an enemy and then attack them from behind. Get inside their guard, kind of thing. He got the idea from Abbie telling him how to (have a better chance of) win(ning) at those dart games at carnivals: You throw the dart up at an angle, so that way it has more force when it hits the balloon. It still might not work, since carnival games are rigged all to shit, and Abbie would be very upfront with Nero and Dante about that. In that case, just go ahead and cheat/use demonic strength to throw the darts or whatever better than you would normally be able to. Abbie doesn't really see it as cheating, since the games are rigged in the first place.

-Nevan is in no way allowed around Nero, ever. Abbie threatened to stick Nevan in a trash can full of Holy Water and then stick said trash can in a walk-in freezer, encasing Nevan in Holy Ice if Nevan ever tried anything. Not that Dante would ever let her, but still.

-Assuming Dante and Nero move to Fortuna, Abbie would go with them and work as a bookshop keeper there, or a librarian. She basically gave up on going to college to learn devil hunting and help Dante protect/raise Nero. I'm not sure if Dante would move to Fortuna- the whole Order of the Sword thing makes his skin... not exactly crawl, but itch. All that worshipping of Sparda is just bizarre to him. And he doesn't want Nero getting a big head about his heritage. Yeah, Sparda was a great guy, and the power Nero inherited is immense, but still. Dante doesn't want Nero to end up being a dick about it. That, and the whole town is too much of a crab bucket for Dante yo really like living in. Abbie would probably hate it, too, but with the intent of trying to convince the crabs to get out of the bucket, as it were. Especially anyone Nero made friends with, like Kyrie or Credo.

If they don't move to Fortuna and Abbie still tries to stick around Dante to help out with Nero, I could see her, Dante, and Nero taking a trip to Fortuna when Nero is about 15 or so. Just so Nero can see the city, and know about the Order of the Sword. Dante hates the place, and none of them really trust the Order of the Sword, but Nero meets Kyrie there, and immediately becomes friends with her, so they all tolerate it. Abbie tries to get Kyrie out of Fortuna on trips with Nero. Something fun, like Nero taking Kyrie to a carnival and showing her around, or to Dumary Island to meet Lucia, or even just letting Kyrie hang out with Nero at Devil May Cry. Maybe Trish, Lady, and Patty could take her out for a girl's night out or something. God knows the girl could use it. Just. Something to try and show Kyrie that life outside her little cult town is actually fun and safe and worth living in, that she has other options if she wants to leave the Order. Things like that.

I'd write the same stuff for Credo, because I could see Abbie trying to get him out, too, given that he's Kyrie's older brother and all, I just don't know what age Credo is in DMC4, or how much older he was than Kyrie. So I'm not really sure what to do with him.

-Trying to figure out a way for Modius and Baul to still be alive, just because I could see Abbie trying to talk them all down from having a big fight to the death. I could also see Abbie putting a bullet in Sid's head the second she noticed Sid snooping around Dante and trying to use him for whatever weird shit Sid was doing that week. Because Abbie's not merciful as Dante. Especially if Sid threatens Nero. She's more... ruthless.

Which, y'know. Is kinda a big red flag.

"People don't understand the word 'ruthless'. They think it means 'mean'. It's not about being mean. It's not about being mean. It's about seeing the bright, clear line that leads from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It's about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the perfection of it."

-Animorphs, Book #30: The Reunion, pg. 71, by K.A. Applegate.

#fic stuff

[rebelichor]

This was a special time of year.

Every year, on this same date, they would set aside time. Even in the rare moments of being apart... they had made a vow : time would be made to celebrate, both for themselves and for each other. It was important to celebrate the birth of twin souls born under Xe's watchful eye.

As luck would have it - and after everything that had happened - they were reunited in time to celebrate together this year. After that agonising time apart... it only made tonight even more special.

To that end, Vergil had requested that they receive no visitors until tomorrow. The day would be for leisure ; Ariadne could spend her time with friends and family if she wished, or in her own company. The afternoon was for a light meal... and the evening was for just the two of them to celebrate.

There was a small, well-maintained altar by the cliff's edge, overlooking the sea. Its keepers were assigned two duties : keep it clean at all times, and ensure there was always clean fresh-water in the small, shallow dish. The runes carved into the bowl were of a language nobody alive knew. ... nobody save for Ariadne, thanks to wisdom imparted by the very being whose name the runes spell.

Within the dish was Ariadne's first gift : a single, delicate pearl, polished to show its pale sheen. Lovely as it would have been to wear... it was instead left whole, to be used as a display item within her quarters, or to be taken with her on her travels in a specially-made fabric-lined box. Painted onto the top of the box was Ariadne's name, in Vergil's typical scrawled handwriting.

Her second gift was a more practical item : a dress made for travel, with comfort and durability in mind. Split up the sides to allow for easier seating while riding a horse, buckles to secure sleeves back and leave her hands uncovered, with a matching cloak for colder climates. It had been difficult to decide on the colour... but, in the end, he had decided on a deep grey, with a silver moon sewn into the center of the chest.

Lastly... an item with deeper significance for both of them : a full moon sized to fit within cupped palms, carved from a chunk of the same crystal they had used so many moons ago. While its magic was severely depleted after the battle... Ariadne would have enough natural sensitivity to feel a lingering trace of Xe's magic. Now, she would always have a tangible reminder of their beloved Goddess's love.

There was a small clench in Ariadne's chest. That tension was like an old friend... she was nervous about something, seemed to have lived her whole life hand-in-hand with that feeling. This time there was a more pleasant reason behind it.

Though it was a miracle it had been kept guarded as long as it had.

Enok's mind all but latched to her. His thoughts a constant buzz, but he didn't do it to be obnoxious — he was nervous too. It oddly helped her to calm a little and when the time came to share a private moment with her twin she kissed Enok upon his knuckles and his cheeks and promised she would come back to him soon.

She almost halted Vergil then and there. Almost got the first word in, before the lavishing of gifts could begin. But he was quicker. Ever since their time ripped apart, he learned how to strike fast, as though he feared he might miss out on more time to share his love.

So, Ariadne pursed her lips with a smile. Head rolling, she approached the special little altar, fingers briefly brushing along Kalan's runes. An ancient language, one that held power, one that unlocked more doors to the past than she thought possible. To think it had almost died out. Would she have enough time still...? There was so much to discover...

Ah, but her mind wandered. The pearl was snatched up with a sharp smile. It would look fine bound by thread like a small spider's web, adorning a necklace or perhaps a bracelet. It was too pretty to simply keep locked away.

A small huff of amusement passed her lips. For now the pearl was stored in safety inside the box, her fingertips fondly brushing along her scrawled name. He had written much slower, she could tell.

The dress and cape were fine material. A practical gift — and no less beautiful, the simplicity and function well suited her and she was quietly confident it would look good on her.

Though his final gift made her smile falter. If only for a moment, she remembered the Earth-quaking power. The sensation of a God's unbridled magic coursing through them. It had been a battle for hearth and home... a battle that saw them shift the moon itself, so that the true sun's light would shine...

Carefully, the crystal was placed down and she stole up Vergil's hands. The maps she had painstakingly drawn up for him, the copied notes into a neat, concise tome, the embroidered tunic with Galahdan beading, all of it could wait. Because if she had to keep the secret for one moment longer she was going to burst.

"Vergil, I'm pregnant." The signs had been there for weeks. Though first she and Enok needed to return home. Needed to come to grips with it themselves. There had been some trouble on the road after the signs. It worried them both, perhaps she had overdone it, perhaps it wasn't true. But the healers of their village confirmed it — and the smell of coffee, which she once loved, gave the strongest sign yet when she almost lost her stomach over the kitchen floor. "I'm going to be a mother. Enok's going to be a father — we're having a baby."

#stratagemichor #answered #birthday #verse; medieval #tw: pregnancy #Vergil: deeply thoughtful gifts #Ariadne: BABY

[vctlan]

// To Kyrie or Credo, if I've read this blog's muses correctly. I am no stranger to universe retcons. : >

[ COOK ]: in an effort to boost the receiver’s spirits, sender arrives with all the ingredients needed to make the receiver’s favorite comfort food, with the well-intended intentions of cooking it for them.

It was an awkward relationship at best - but considering how before this there had been no relationship at all, Kyrie thought this to be a great improvement.

Nero and Vergil's temperaments often clashed, but she made a game of seeking their similarities - in part because she wanted to help them make amends, but in truth mostly because she did find it somewhat endearing.

And one such similarity was this - doing things unspoken.

She was the home keeper - such was the way she had been raised, such was the life she'd envisioned for herself. To be able to foster, to heal, to guide others brought her a sense of fulfillment like no other when her own life had been uprooted so violently time and time again.

But if she spent her time taking care of others, who took care of her?

The obvious answer would be Nero, but alas he was out - Dante was being stubborn as always, having as much trouble adjusting to being back as Vergil, but able to hide it behind his already established support system… Too bad Lady tattled on him, and asked Nero to come visit.

Without Nero or Nico around, when she is haunted by her body's fragility and feeling weaker than normal all she expects is to have to take things slower - she doesn't expect Vergil to notice or care how she has to lean against walls or furniture, how she pauses as her vision momentarily swims.

It was merely her reality after having her essence be used to power the Savior, her soul and body's connection fraying at the edges even now.

So when he leaves, she thinks nothing of it, decides to retire to her quarters and rest before it was time to start preparing dinner, resting as much as she could manage without starting to feel antsy.

What wakes her is the sound of someone returning - and although she knows Nero would call before he began the trip back, part of her would always be cautiously excited to see him home early.

Instead… it is Vergil, standing in the kitchen - preparing a meal. And for a moment she worries she's late, overslept in her need for rest… but no, the clock on the wall showed just the time she would usually begin cooking.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" She asks from the doorway, leaning against it softly with one hand, a shy smile gracing her expression as she lingers there. She hoped she wasn't bothering him - it was a little hard to tell sometimes.

#k.fortuna 「 𝘙𝘌𝘗𝘓𝘠 」 #1 「 𝘈𝘚𝘒 」 #hai :3 hope this works

[harlot-of-oblivion]

The Heart of the Camellia(Part 7)

The big days is getting closer and you are making good time with the flowers, all thanks to a very helpful devil known as Vergil Sparda. You decide to bring him a thank you gift, which results in a invitation to dinner with the rest of the crew.

And here it is! Sorry for the delay...this holiday season is kicking my butt.😤 I'll do my best to finish this part before the year is out, but it may not happen since I’m planning another fic to be a nice ‘n’ spicy holiday treat😏

Anyway! Without further ado, the first half of Part 7! And here’s the link to the list of all the flowers featured in this part. 🌸💖🌸

Chapter 1: Family of Flowers

For the past few weeks, you have been working nonstop, arranging all the final details and flowers for the Sparda wedding. You did not have the time to take a day off until now, and you are not enjoying it in the garden for once. Instead, you are bustling around your kitchen, preheating the oven before sprinkling flour all over the counter and turning out a ball of red velvet dough onto its surface. 

You always thought that if you were not a gardener and florist extraordinaire, you would probably be a pastry chef. There is just something about baking sweet treats that brings you the same exact joy as tending to the flowers in your garden. And sometimes, you can have the best of both professions: decorative treats depicting beautiful blooms or even having actual flowers in the treat itself! That is exactly what you plan to do to the dough you are currently rolling out, spreading a layer of cinnamon and brown sugar over it before rolling it up jelly-roll style.

It’s not blueberry or apple, but I hope he likes it all the same, you thought nervously as you grab a knife and begin slicing the log of dough. 

Vergil has visited your garden every single day since that demon attack near your home. You always welcome him with open arms and a warm smile despite being really busy, and he always adamantly offers his assistance with whatever you are working on that day. Those times you taught him a thing or two become your saving grace, lessening the burden and stress of getting this done on such short notice. It does make you feel a bit guilty though for needing help, and you have tried to let him know that he should not feel obligated to aid you. But he just gives you what you refer to as his “motivational smolder” and tells you that his assistance only seems fair since he is the one that suggested your shop.

The power of Sparda now includes the talent for arranging flowers! You giggle softly as you place the red velvet dough slices onto a greased pan, making sure they are not too close to each other before covering them with a kitchen towel. They need a little time to rise before baking, so you wash your hands and remove your apron before heading out into the garden. Might as well make a flower crown while I wait! You meander idly among the flowers, scanning the multitude of colorful blooms as you figure out which lucky flowers will be in your crown.

You take a quick look at the cluster of wisteria creeping through the quaint archway of your outdoor workshop. Its hanging blooms sway softly in the light wind of the afternoon as you think about its meaning: the welcoming flower of enduring love. The small blossoms would do well as the base of the flower crown. You reach for the traditional purple blooms, but your hand pauses when you spot a cluster of pink wisteria. A soft smile curls on your lips as you pick a couple of those vines instead since its meaning perfectly matches your own most recent feelings of blossoming love.

It only takes a few more steps through the garden until you find the other lucky flowers to grace your crown. A couple of butterflies are fluttering around your asters, the talisman of love and patience. While the butterflies enjoy their sweet nectar, you ponder which color would look best with pink wisteria. Let’s see: white, red, pink, purple, blue…aha! A group of lavender asters catch your eye and you enthusiastically pick a big bunch of the starry blooms.      

You make your way back to the house and head for your office, grabbing the necessary supplies needed before sitting down at your desk. Your mind begins to wander as you measure a couple of pieces of florist wire around your head, replaying all the moments Vergil made you laugh and blush while helping you. You remember the time he had to take off his signature coat, and he caught you staring at his impressive arms. That cocky smirk of his never fails to make your heart tremble. There was also the time he got his hair wet, his grumpy face reminding you a cat getting caught in a rainstorm. His silver blue eyes flashed in irritation and he scowled when you could not hold your laughter any longer.

Your trip down memory lane ends when you wrap the final piece of floral tape around an aster. There! You hold it out for inspection, making sure that all the blooms are in tip top shape before going to the mirror down the hall. Your hair is already styled into a loose fishtail braid, so all you need is a couple of bobby pins to keep it in place. Luckily, you always carry some in your dress pocket, and it only takes a few careful moments of pining before the flower crown adorns your head. You do a little spin in the mirror, making sure the pink floral pattern of your dress matches the crown as it softly flares out. 

You have never looked more ravishing than you do at this moment.

Vergil’s words come to the forefront of your mind, sending pleasant tingles all through your body. You bounce around like a bumblebee in front of the mirror while giggling and clapping your hands in excitement. As you head back to the kitchen, you recall how happy those words made you that day when they were uttered from your handsome devil. Honestly, you are still slightly shocked that he accepted your dandelions. And when he presented a cabbage rose and put it in your hair...your cheeks still turn pink just thinking about it!

When you to get to the kitchen, you make sure that the red velvet slices have risen enough before sliding them into the preheated oven. While they bake to perfection you get started on another craft project: putting together a decorative pastry box. You reach into the cupboard where some are stored and take out a light pink one with an elegant white swirl pattern. A bright idea suddenly pops into your head as you put the box together and you quickly go back to your office for a felt tip pen. 

You meticulously write in perfect cursive Things that fall on the inside of the lid, making sure it is written in the perfect position so it can be read correctly when opened. Next, you write some things that fall inside the bottom of the box, purposefully putting the most important thing in the middle. Lastly, you measure out a square of translucent parchment paper and place it inside the box. 

The timer goes off on your stove and you promptly put on an ovenmitt before taking out the pan. Your keen eyes check to see if the red velvet cinnamon rolls are done before setting them to the side. While they cool off a bit, you swiftly whip up some white icing and drizzle it over the warm rolls. The sugary glaze melts beautifully and drips off the side of the rolls, making you lick your lips as you begin to crave the baked treat. 

No, no, no…these aren’t for me, you silently chide yourself as you open a nearby drawer to grab a spatula and diligently lift the rolls from the pan, placing them carefully into the prepared pastry box. You are just about to close the box when you think of a last-minute detail for the rolls, instantly rushing out your back door and straight to the rose section of your garden. While you are browsing and smelling the roses, you check on the special ones you are secretly growing for Vergil. Their blue buds have begun to bloom, but they are not quite ready for presenting yet. 

Your lips curve into a fond smile as you remember the day you first met your prickly devil, frantically planting blue roses in the rain as soon as you arrived home. You always pictured the rose among his briars to be blue, extraordinarily wonderful and unique as well as notoriously unattainable. But you meant what you said to Vergil in the book café…that despite impossible odds you will never back down as you gently pry apart the thorns in search of such splendor. 

Ah! This is no time to dilly-dally! You shake your head and redouble your efforts to concentrate on the task at hand. After a couple more minutes of browsing you pick a small bunch of sweetbriar roses and hurry back to the kitchen, grabbing a handful of forget-me-nots on the way for flower shower purposes. You rinse the sweetbriar roses in the sink, dry them with a paper towel, and garnish the rolls with their bright pink blooms. And when you are done decorating, your red velvet cinnamon rolls look more like a delicious bouquet of red roses.  

Perfect!

A rush of excitement bursts through your body as you close the pastry box and seal it shut with a floral sticker. You also grab a small box full of homemade strawberry donuts you made earlier and place it on top of the pastry box. They are for Dante since he occasionally came over to help as well, usually doing the regular deliveries around the city for you. It also ensures that he does not try to steal one of Vergil’s treats. There is one thing you have found out while hanging out with both Sons of Sparda: they bicker and fight constantly like normal siblings. Well, almost normal if you count summoning swords as an everyday occurrence during arguments.

You grab your purse, carry the boxes down the hall, and head out the front door. The weather is clear and sunny as you walk happily down the street towards Vergil’s home and place of employment. You are not sure if he will be there or if he will even be happy to see you after dropping by unannounced, but considering how many times he has startled you with his sudden presence in your garden…it only seems fair that you pop by and surprise him your sweet rosy treats.

Hopefully, he won’t be too annoyed with me once he sees these edible blooms! you thought with a giggle, already seeing the grumpy lines on Vergil’s face easing into softer expression. This is the only thing you could think of to properly thank him for all the help with the flowers…and for always being there to protect you. It did not escape your notice that he is always ever vigilant, his keen eyes watching for any sign of danger while he helped you with the flowers. And he would always urge you to go back inside your house as soon as night fell when he could not stay late, making you promise him that you would not do any late-night harvesting. And you always smile and oblige him because you know that is his own way of showing that he really cares for you too. 

It does not take long for you to walk the short distance from your house to the shop. You pause at the foot of the steps and look up the building, noting the stylish neon sign reading Devil May Cry above the double doors. Well, here goes nothing! You enthusiastically hop up the steps and knock on the door…but nobody answers. Hmm, they must not be home. Your cheerful demeanor deflates a little, but you are not willing to give up yet. You knock again and there is still no answer. You glance down at the handle and decide to turn it, even though you guess it is probably locked. 

But to your surprise, the handle turns without much effort and the door cracks open. You peek your head through the door and take a look inside the shop. The lights are on, but it is very quiet. Your eyes make out a couch, a desk, and a jukebox. “Hello?” you call out, hearing your voice echo throughout the room. “Is anyone here?” You wait a moment for a reply before opening the door wider and passing through the threshold of the shop. 

The door closes behind you and your eyes scan around what looks to be an office of sorts. You are now able to see a small bar in one corner of the room and a staircase to your left beside the desk. Your nose twitches as you detect the faint odor of something moldy underneath the musty smell of dust. This must be Dante’s space, you conclude, there is no way Vergil would be this messy! You walk over to the desk and put the pastry boxes down gently on it, pushing aside a couple of swimsuit magazines to make some room along with your purse. 

An ornate picture frame sitting in one corner of the desk catches your eye. You get curious about whose portrait is in the frame, so you go around the desk to get a better look. A beautiful woman with golden blond hair wrapped in a crimson red shawl stands alone in the picture, green eyes sparkling as a tender smile graces her lips. Oh wow…this must be their mother. You remember Vergil describing her to you once, emphasizing the way she gently nurtured him and his brother with kindness. Your heart breaks when you recall the sadness that is always in his eyes when he talks about her...both of her boys must miss her a lot.

You can sympathize with them a little, mourning the loss of your own mother...even though you are not certain if she is even passed away. Your head tilts as you remember the burgundy roses Dante always asks for when he visits. The last small bouquet must have wilted since they are nowhere to be seen on the desk. Why didn’t I think to bring more? you silently berate yourself, but quickly come up with an alternative. You reach into your dress pocket, take out a few forget-me-nots, and place them in front of the portrait of Eva Sparda. 

There. Gone but not forgotten. 

You call out a couple more times just to make sure that there really is no one home. When only silence answers, you decide to at least put your baked treats in their kitchen. “They must have one…right?” you mutter quietly to yourself as you look around. There is a beat-up fridge next to the jukebox, but you do spot a side room by the bar and go check to see if it leads to a real kitchen. 

And it turns out that it does…but this poor kitchen has seen better days. The trashcan is overflowing as well as surrounded by multiple bags of what is assuredly more trash. There are an assortment of dirty dishes, tools, and knick-knacks on the countertops and the sink is full of even more dishes…even though there is a dishwasher right next to it. Just the very sight of all this filth and clutter in the kitchen makes your skin crawl. You slowly back away like an animal sensing a nearby predator and take a deep breath.

Oh no no no…this will not do.

The sudden urge to clean overwhelms you as your fists clench tight and you stick your chin out in determination. You march back into the gross kitchen and start opening up cabinets, figuring out where they keep their cleaning supplies. Your very thorough search results in a roll of paper towels, cleaning spray, and a half empty box of trash bags. The dishwasher happens to be empty, so you load it up with the dirty dishes from the sink before moving onto the absolute mountain of trash. One by one you take each bag out to the outdoor trashcan next to the stoop of the shop until it is completely full, leaving only one bag left to sit beside the can. 

The next place you hit during your cleaning frenzy is the kitchen countertops. You put all the dirty dishes in the sink, collect the tools and knick-knacks into one pile, and throw away all trash into the now empty trashcan. There are a few stains on the counters, so you spritz the surface with the cleaning spray and wipe them down with paper towels. You swipe the light sweat you worked up off your brow, knocking your flower crown askew as you check your progress. 

The countertops are spotless, the dishwasher is almost done cleaning the first load of dishes, and the floor is completely clear of all trash. It can be cleaner…but this will have to do for now. You nod your head in approval while you cross your arms and smirk in victory. You go back to the desk, pick up the pastry boxes, and take them back to the now neat and tidy kitchen. As you place them on the clean counter you notice a stain you missed during your cleaning tirade. Your eyes squint in annoyance as you reach for the cleaning spray and wipe the pesky stain away before deeming this kitchen officially spick and span.

“Wow! I can’t believe Dante actually hired someone to clean his mess!”

A feminine voice knocks you out of your cleaning stupor and you turn towards the door. A woman with short dark hair is standing in the entrance as she stares at you curiously. You notice that one of her eyes is red while the other bluish green. Her attire confuses you slightly, a mix of casual and military with the silky white blouse and black leather leggings covering her legs.      

“Oh! Uh…I’m not…well, you see…”  

As you struggle a little to explain your spontaneous cleaning session, another woman steps up next to the dark-haired lady. Your eyes widen as you try to hold back a shocked gasp. Her face is the spitting image of Vergil’s mother, but instead of a red shawl she is wearing black leather pants and a revealing corset that shows off her midriff. She also does not exude the warmth of the woman in the portrait as she eyes you suspiciously. You clear your throat and try to explain yourself again when another woman in a white summer dress peeks through the other two, her auburn locks and sunny smile instantly recognizable as she waves at you.   

“Hey!” Kyrie beams as she gently pushes past the two women and pulls you into her welcoming embrace. “It’s great to see you again!” You return the hug with a grateful grin before she stands next to you and loops her hand around your arm. “Lady, Trish…this is Y/N!” she introduces you with a bright smile. “The florist who saved my big day!”

Both women glance at each other as their expressions lighten up with realization. “Oh! You’re the flower friend I keep hearing about!” The dark short haired woman, who you believe is Lady, leans casually against the doorframe. “Nice to meet you!” she exclaims with a playfully wave.

“Hey,” the other woman, who must be Trish, addresses you with a slight nod of her head.

Before you can even respond, Nero peeks over Lady’s shoulder. He scans the clean kitchen and blinks his eyes in disbelief. “Are we even in the right place?”

Nico pokes her head around Trish’s arm and takes a gander as well. “Yeah, where’d all the trash go?”

All their expectant eyes are suddenly upon you and you could not help to feel a little self-conscious as you shrug your shoulders. “I uh…can’t stand a messy kitchen?” you feebly explain with a toothy grin. 

“So, you broke into my shop just to clean my kitchen, huh?” 

A very amused Dante makes his way through the small crowd that has amassed around the doorway. “Aloe there!” he exclaims with a cheeky grin and a wink. You roll your eyes as he strokes his stubbly chin and walks into his now immaculate kitchen. His usual unkempt hair is pulled up into a ponytail and, for some reason, he is not wearing his very expensive red leather coat or his grubby gray shirt.  

“What’s up, succa?” you reply back with your own grin before playfully glaring at him, not even fazed by his shirtless appearance. Dante leans casually against the counter as you launch into a perfectly rational explanation of your actions. “Okay, first of all, I did not break in…the door was unlocked.”

“Really, Dante? How foolish.”

Your body shivers the moment you hear the familiar snarky voice of Vergil. He pushes past the crowd around the kitchen doorway and your eyes widen as you notice that he is not wearing his usual vest and coat. Whoa…the power of Sparda must include all the muscles. Kyrie gently squeeze your arm, which blessedly reminds you that this is not the time to be caught ogling his bare chest. You hope no one becomes aware of your flushed state, but a sharp glint in Vergil’s fierce gaze tells you that he definitely notices the all too familiar blush on your cheeks.   

Dante answers his brother criticism nonchalantly, either totally oblivious of your flustered state or showing mercy by pretending that nothing is amiss. “Huh, guess I forgot to lock the door…my bad!”

You try very hard not to stutter as you continue with your tangent. “Second of all, I can’t stand a messy kitchen. And third of all…I needed the room!”

Trish chuckles and nods. “She’s got ya there, Dante.”

“Yeah!” Lady agrees as she steps into the kitchen and pokes Dante’s accusingly on the arm. “Except it should be you cleaning your own damn mess!”

But Dante is too busy fixated on the last point you made. “Making room?” He quirks an eyebrow as his eyes light up in anticipation. “For what?” 

“I made you both some treats!” You give both the brothers a big grin as they both look down at the counter. Vergil furrows his brow as he eyes the pastry boxes with curious interest while Dante is already gunning for the biggest box. “Hey!” you snap as you lightly slap his hand away. “No! That one is Vergil’s.” You pick up and hold out the smaller box towards him. “This one is yours.”

A round of snickers resounds in the kitchen while Dante shakes his hand, even though you are pretty sure that he is exaggerating his injury. “Aww c’mon, Buttercup!” he pouts. “How come frowny flower over there gets the bigger box? I thought I was your favorite,” he claims in a hurt tone while clutching his chest. You catch Vergil rolling his eyes and shaking his head at his brother.  

“Don’t be ranunculus!” you laugh while waving the boxed treats in front of his face. “It’s what you’ve been hounding me to make every time you visit,” you gleefully entice him with an arched eyebrow.   

“Strawberry donuts?!” Dante gasps in surprise as he finally reaches the coveted prize he has been begging for ever since you first met him in your garden. 

Lady lunges for the pastry box and successfully grabs it before Dante. “I believe these will do nicely as compensation!” she explains hastily while running out of the kitchen. 

“Compensation?! For what?!” Dante yells as he pursues his donut thief.  

“You’re welcome!” you call out dryly before shaking your head at them. Trish shrugs as she follows behind Dante and Lady while Kyrie laughs quietly besides you. Vergil’s eyes flicker between the lone pastry box and you as he walks closer to the counter. Kyrie says that she is going to check and make sure they are not making even more of a mess of the shop before retreating from the kitchen…leaving you alone with a very bare-chested Vergil Sparda. 

You can feel heat emanating from his body as he steps up close to you and it takes all of your willpower to not openly gawk at his perfectly sculpted abdomen or his well-defined pecs. “You do know he’ll just beg you for more food now, right?” Vergil points out as he peers down at you. 

“Oh, it’s okay!” You smile up at him and laugh softly. “I thought it would be a nice thank you gift for him.” You slide his own thank you gift on the counter towards him. “And it did distract him from stealing your treats!”

Vergil hums as his lips lift into a soft smile. “Very clever,” he comments as he raises his hand and carefully adjusts the slightly crooked flower crown on your head. Your mind checks out for a moment as the scent of bergamot overpowers your senses. “How are you doing today, Y/N?” 

“I’m doing pretty boy…GOOD. Pretty good!” you stammer, quickly correcting your blundering words. But it is already too late since Vergil totally heard your blunt admiration. His soft smile turns into a smug grin as your cheeks turn absolutely red with embarrassment. “Yeah…I’m doing pretty good,” you mutter weakly as you avoid his amused gaze, taking a sudden interest in your shoes. 

“I’m glad that you’re doing…pretty good,” Vergil suddenly murmurs by your ear, causing you to squeal softly in surprise. You look back up at him and huff in annoyance at the sight of his very pleased expression as he opens the pastry box. “You made these for me?” He tilts his head a little as he leans in to get a better look at the decadent bouquet of red velvet roses and the phrase written on the inside of the lid. 

You nod your head demurely. “I wanted to thank you for helping me with the flowers. It’s one of my favorite recipes. Do you wanna try a bite?” you offer as you reach for the roll of paper towels still sitting on the counter. “If you don’t like it I could-”

“I’d enjoy anything made by you,” he gently interjects, silver blue eyes shifting over to meet your gaze. They bore into you with a soft intensity that only Vergil can pull off. You smile at his genuine compliment as you rip a square of paper towel and place it next to the box. “But if you insist,” he chuckles as you carefully take out one of the sweet rolls, revealing the word petals, rain, and stars beneath the translucent parchment paper. 

You place the red velvet treat on the paper towel and unravel a small piece of the roll, making sure that it has a healthy portion of icing on it before offering it to him. Vergil squints at the words you have written on the bottom of the box as he takes the piece of sweet roll, giving it a light sniff before taking a bite. Moments like this always makes you so happy as you watch him chew, seeing a spark of delight in his eyes as he tastes your homed baked treat. It also gives you a good excuse to subtly admire his well-defined jawline and velvety pink lips.      

“Good?” you ask as soon as he swallows the treat, not even trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

“It’s delicious,” he declares with a grateful smirk. 

You notice a small glob of icing stuck by one of his charming dimples. “You have a little…” you trail off as you gesture towards his cheek, trying to denote where he should wipe his face. He brushes that side of his face, but the glob of icing somehow survives the sweeping of his hand. “Here,” you sigh as you take a step closer to him. “I’ll just…” You reach up with your hand and swipe the icing off with your thumb. 

“There we go!” you remark as another one of your devious ploys pops into you head. Your lips curl into an impish grin as you bring your hand to your mouth and suck the icing off your thumb, making sure your eyes never stray from Vergil’s intense gaze as you do so. You see the pupils of his eyes dilate dramatically as they hone in on your mouth, watching attentively as your tongue peeks out a little to lick the icing. The barest hint of blush appears on his cheeks when you hum in pleasure. You let the provocative moment drag on for a bit before asking the usual question that always brings him back to reality.

“Flower for your thoughts?”

That stunning jawline you adore so much clenches tight as the sharp glint in Vergil’s eyes from earlier comes back in full force. The soft blue hue of his irises seems to ignite as your entire body is electrified by the low rumbling growl emitting from his throat. Your heart beats faster than the wings of a hummingbird as the gorgeous devil of your daydreams and fantasies leans in closer…

The sound of the kitchen door crashing unceremoniously against the wall makes you jump back in alarm. Both of your heads snap over and you sigh in relief when you see it is just Dante lying on the floor. He is clutching the now beat up pastry box close to his chest while vigorously chewing the strawberry donut sticking out of his mouth. You are a little annoyed with him since you will never find out what would have happened if he had not interrupted Vergil’s approach…but you know that it is not his fault, so you just let your agitation go with a sweet smile. 

Vergil snarls and stares down at his meddlesome brother menacingly, scolding him for frightening you with his ridiculous antics. Dante grins sheepishly as he stands up and apologizes for scaring you, but you just laugh since you have gotten used to his sudden bursts of chaotic energy. His mischievous eyes dart between you and Vergil before he informs his surly brother that they still need get ready before everyone leaves them behind. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion before they shoot up as you realize just how long you have been here. 

“Oh snapdragons! It’s almost dinner time!”

You let out a string of your own apologies for taking up their time with your surprise visit as you rush out of the kitchen. Nero, Kyrie, and Nico are sitting in the couch while Trish and Lady are standing by the bar in the corner of the office. They all look over in interest as you scurry over to the desk and sling your purse over your shoulder. You are about to say your farewells to everyone when a familiar hand brushes against your arm. 

Vergil gently coaxes you to turn around and face him. You notice that endearing crinkle between his brow is scrunched up in thought as he speaks. “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

“Would you like to join us forever?!” came Dante’s very boisterous addendum from the kitchen. This earns a very harsh glower directed at the kitchen door from Vergil while you giggle softly. Everyone else in the shop either laughs or just sighs and shakes their head at the door. 

You glance over at Vergil’s hand still holding onto your arm, considering his gracious invitation to dinner with the whole crew. You cannot even recall the last time you went out to eat in the city, much less spend time with anyone outside of your business. In fact, you have not been this sociable in a long time…seeing the whole crew laughing and joking together reminds you of the family you wished you had growing up. 

The longing for familial company bubbles in the pit of your stomach now. You have gotten used to being alone all the time, but maybe…you are like that one bud that blooms too soon in a bed of flowers: lonely for a time as its petals bask in the sunlight, but waiting patiently as it hopes for rain…so that the fellow buds may grow, bloom, and become a family of flowers. 

Perhaps the rain has finally come.

Perhaps you don’t have to be a lonely flower.

“Yes!” you blurt out as you run a finger up the inside of Vergil’s forearm, gazing up at him warmly as you subtly get his attention. A brilliant smile blooms on your face as you nod your head eagerly. “Yes…I’d love to join you all for dinner!” 

Vergil begins to smile back, but the crashing of the kitchen door again twists his lips into a grimace. Dante zooms by the desk, puts an arm around his brother’s shoulder, and practically pulls him up the stairs. Their brotherly squabbles echo through the office and, going by the harsh grunt, ends when Dante gets stabbed. 

Kyrie ushers you to sit on the couch while you wait, chatting about how you made the strawberry donuts and promising to swap recipes sometime. Nero and Nico soon join in and, as you laugh along with Kyrie at all their jokes and banter, you no longer feel like that one lone bud hoping for rain. 

You have finally found your family of flowers at Devil May Cry. 

Read Part 7 (Ch. 2) here

Read on Ao3

My Master List if you want more. 💕

Tagging: @drusoona, @bettybattaglia, @exsultry, @thedyingmoon, @veenus-ow, @meowykittenn, @fandomhell97, @vergilsangel, @venomous-lawyer, @thenightgazer, @cherryvane, @yesno18, @diabeticsugarush, @queenmuzz, @mary-v-o-n, @tinamalee, @a-midsummer-nights-odyssey, @divinity-deos, @ancientwhitefire, @agentdedf1sh, @clevermentalitybeliever 

#vergil x reader #vergil #devil may cry #dmc5 #romance #fluff #flowers #the language of flowers #gardener reader #writing #fanfiction #humor #meeting the family #hijinks and shenanigans #mutual pining #flirting #a rose among the briars #The Heart of the Camellia #home baked treats and spontaneous cleaning #she's a keeper vergil #uwu #the poem is by ivyandrose #and can you spot the two disney references? X3 #harlot writes

[buns-with-a-book]

If you're still taking request for the Smut Dialog, can I get 40 and 16, in whatever order you want, with Vergil and Cass?

“What I really want is for you to pin me against the wall and fuck me senseless.”  “It’s hard to think straight when you’re looking at me like that.”

(Mer!SDT!Vergil/Keeper!Cassandra AU)

Cassandra quietly scribbled down the vitals of her charge, the merbeast that she had to watch over. He looked perfectly healthy, much to her relief. Snapping the waterproof file closed, she stood up to slide the file back in place. She heard a pleased chirp from Vergil and the sound of splashing.

“I know, i know, you’ve been very good.” Cassandra soothed, walking over to where she kept a very special treat for him if he was good: bluefin tuna. She pulled out one of the fish and looked over to the tank. 

The look she got, a hungry look focused on her and not the fish in her hand. Even with it out, he didn’t even glance to her.

“...fuck...” She muttered. “It’s hard to think straight when you’re looking at me like that...” Vergil purred at her words. She placed the tuna back in the icebox and walked over to the edge of the tank. “What do you want from me, my mer? Is what you really want is for you to pin me against the wall and fuck me senseless?”

Vergil pulled her into the tank, earning a shriek of surprise. His eyes shone a bright blue before oxygen burned through her system, a boon of the mer’s power. He pinned her against the wall, shoving his tongue past her lips and down her throat. She whimpered submissively under his dominance, something that earned a pleased rumble from him. Vergil’s clawed hands pulled at her pants, taking them off with care (he had gotten a scolding from when he ripped them off and did not want a repeat of that). Throwing it out of the tank, a thick tapered cock slid out of it’s sheath and pressed against her entrance. Cassandra let out a whine before the merbeast pushed hard into her cunt. Cassandra let out a muffled squeal.

He didn’t let her have a chance to recover before thrusting hard. Cassandra clung onto him, groaning around his tongue as he thrust into her. When he pulled back, he pulled up her shirt and began to suckle on a breast, purring loudly. Cassandra whined loudly, her hands groping his scaled body, legs trembling against his rough scales. 

“V-Vergil!” She moaned. The mer pulled her close and bucked his hips, panting and groaning. His hands grabbed and kneaded at her ass, his chest rumbling from pleasure at how submissive she was. He nibbled her neck, determined to leave his mark on her skin. “I can’t-”

“Mine.” He growled. “Mineminemineminemine!” And then a searing heat filled Cassandra, making her cry out into the water. Vergil kept her close, nuzzling her neck at the lovebite he made. “Pretty mate...” 

‘Mate, huh?’ Cassandra thought, leaning against him. ‘Well then...if he thinks of me like that...’ She would deal with the consequences later.

#devil may cry #devil may cry vergil #devil may cry oc #spicy #lemon #mermaid au #novashine666 #ask drabbles

[blooddrop-palace]

29 with Dante and Vergil?

(Ooooh alright! Let’s get cracking! )

29. You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?

[Some Context: Post DMC5, no real continuity to anything else.]

Eventually, getting a smart phone became a necessity. Even if it weren’t for the convenience, then it would be for the fact that people treat you like you’re a little bit crazy if you didn’t have one. 

At first, Vergil and Dante were in a rare agreement that it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Eventually, under Morrison’s, Lady’s, and everyone else’s insistence, (especially Nero’s insistence,) they added “cell phone bill” to the list of bills that... admittingly, were a little easier to pay when Vergil could keep Dante “better motivated” to take on work. (There was also the matter of convenience for being able to make trips home quick with the Yamato, though Vergil will insist every time, in some manner, that he was not a taxi service.)

Now, to say that this was a big leap of technology for the Sons of Sparda would be an understatement. Though they were familiar with the existence of cell phones, neither of them owned one until now, and they have completely skipped past about three stages of the evolution of cell phones. 

Figuring out the functions of the phone, however, was a different task in itself. Vergil hadn’t really had a need to touch anything keyboard based to begin with. While a touch screen was simple, figuring out where everything was on a keyboard took a bit of practice. 

Still, the twins might be dense and stubborn on some things, but they weren’t entirely unable to adapt. At the very least, they understood how to use the messaging and call functions. Anything else, Nico made a big list of functions that, for the most part, the two men found no use for. (Well, for now.)

———————

Nero actually messaged them frequently. More than Nico. At least, as far as Nico was concerned, she has never messaged Vergil. 

A few days after they managed to sort out the new phone situation, it was decided that the cell phones were more for the function of keeping in touch with family and friends. Business still had to come through the main line. 

And while Vergil was going through some books, he froze when his phone vibrated. 

He was still getting used to having this bothersome little contraption on his person. They fact that it made noise and moved (somewhat) while so close to his body made him skittish. He had considered keeping it out on the table but it became clear that he was then liable to forget it. 

So his only option was to keep it in his inner coat pocket and learn to get used to it. 

Fishing the phone out, he checked it, to find that it was a message from Nero:

> Hey. How are you holding up?

This was curiously cordial, though Vergil could imagine the awkward hesitance in his son’s demeanor. The anger over past transgressions had only been somewhat diffused, but if there was anything Vergil had learnt recently from Dante and Nero both, it’s that he was in a state of “forgiven but not forgotten.” 

Because the kin of Sparda has had enough bullshit and would rather have something that resembled family, however long it took for them to become one. 

This meant communication was part of it. 

So Vergil responded: 

Well. <

After a moment of thought, he realized he ought to… say something more. 

And you? <

Nero’s response was considerably faster than his:

> Not bad. New phone treating you good?  > Maybe I should ask if you’re treating your phone good.  > Not broken yet it seems. 

He felt a little insulted. 

I happen to take good care of my possessions. Unlike my brother. <

> Right

Vergil found that there were both advantages and disadvantages to this type of communication. Though he himself wasn’t openly expressive, the lack of visual cues from the person he’s speaking to made conversation contain a sort of guessing game. But without being under scrutiny, there was no social disrespect for him putting his attention back in his book while there was a lack of immediate response. 

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed again. 

> The book you left behind is old isn’t it? > Guess there’s no doubt to your words.  > Glad to know you’re doing well with the phone. But can you tell Dante to call me back? Or at least text me back? Been trying to get a hold of him for an hour now. 

So, that was it. He’s playing second messenger because Dante wasn’t responding. 

When he comes back. I will let him know. <

> Cool. Thanks.  > Hey, let me know if you ever need anything, k?

By context, Vergil figured Nero meant to say “okay.” 

And this was… okay. It was a start. 

I will keep that in mind. <

————————

Though when in person, Nero and Vergil sometimes had abrasive encounters, Vergil realized that Nero wasn’t any less argumentative with Dante. Their interactions were simply different. 

But often, Nero messaged him about small things, when they were apart. Such as: 

Nero

> Nico and I are driving by DMC. You guys want anything?

If it’s food, don’t bring Dante any more pizza. <

> Okay. What about you? Beer or anything?

Dante said yes to beer. <

> Dante always says yes to pizza and beer. I’m asking YOU damnit. > Also tell the old man to text me back himself if he wants anything!

Out of sheer pettiness that day, Nero brought no beer, but a bottle of cheap wine for Vergil. 

He was satisfied with it only because Dante whined over preferential treatment. 

————————

Kyrie

> Good morning Mr. Vergil!  > We were wondering if you and Dante would like to have dinner with us next weekend? > A gathering without impending work, something relaxing for everyone? 

It took a long amount of thinking, and Vergil thought carefully about how he couldn’t keep avoiding it. He wasn’t the most comfortable around Nero’s considerably normal family. Even Dante often made excuses to not go, judging from what Vergil had heard about the number of holiday invitations sent to his brother that never received the response of his presence. 

A part of Vergil thought that this was not only the time to face the music that came with having family, but also felt somewhat comforted by the fact that if he agreed to this, Dante still had to suffer through the social gathering with him. 

I am grateful for your invitation. What time would you like for us to be there by? <

> Dinner will be ready by 6, but you are welcome to arrive earlier to help, or spend some time with Nero? > The children are also curious to meet you and Dante.

Ah, the orphans… well, he had already agreed. 

> Of course, I’m not holding your promise as Dante’s agreement. Please let me know if he will be arriving, also? He hasn’t responded to our messages yesterday. 

————————

Nero

> Hey uh > I know Dante likes his strawberry sundaes  > But what do you like?

I’m partial to something chocolate. <

> Huh. I would have thought you’d say something like blueberry. 

I do not believe blueberry is a common topping on a menu. Chocolate is fine. <

> Okay. > What if I’m stopping by a special creamery? Still want chocolate?

Please. <

About half an hour later, Vergil received another message: 

> I don’t care if Dante’s predictable, but if he wants his sundae, he should at least RESPOND TO MY TEXTS.

On that day, Vergil learnt what a message in all caps was supposed to mean. 

————————

Nico

> Yooooo V-man > hey is Dante alive? > I found something a-maze-ing this morning!! > he might wanna see this.  > but like he’s totally bad about responding so like > tell him I’ll be swinging by in an hour.  > you might like this, too.

This is a little short notice. <

> Don’t care!  > be there soon! > ttyl!

Nico’s messages were a bit harder to understand. For her, Vergil had to learn how to navigate basic search engines. 

————————

Lady

> Where’s Dante.

I am not my brother’s keeper. <

> Right. He’s your keeper.  > Where is he. He owes me money.

I understand that he has owed you money for quite some time now. < Do not come to me about his debts. < I am not responsible for his lack of good finances. <

————————

It has come to Vergil’s attention that, many times, he was being contacted simply because Dante very rarely responded. 

Nero actually used the phone as a means to carry some semblance of contact with Vergil, but ultimately, even he had come to Vergil for the sake of getting Dante on the phone. (Barring that, Nero would simply call the land line. But by that point, it defeated the purpose of a cell phone, didn’t it?)

Today, while Dante was languidly flipping through another one of his tasteless magazines, Vergil decided he had enough of playing messenger. 

But he had to do the roundabout thing to prove a point to his brother. 

So he opened up the messenger, and found Dante’s message thread. It wasn’t that Dante didn’t use his phone. He’s called a few times. In fact, he seemed to prefer calling over texting. But it was clear that, just like his tendency to leave the shop’s phone unanswered or even unplugged, he was just as terrible about being contacted via cell phone. 

Dante

Dante <

After a few seconds, Vergil heard the soft vibration of the message being received. The phone in question appeared to be within Dante’s desk. 

And his brother ignored it. 

So, a few minutes later, Vergil sent again:

Dante <

Another vibration. 

It went ignored again. 

What is the point of having a phone if you don’t answer it you imbecile <

This time, not long after Vergil heard the phone vibrate, he said out loud: “Dante. You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?”

His brother finally lowered his reading material, and said: “What? Aren’t we talking right now?”

“No. Stop ignoring your phone.”

“What is there you need to say that you can’t say yo my face?” The teasing retort on his face was anger-inducing. 

“That’s not the point. It appears most everyone else has issues getting in contact with you, and I’m done playing messenger. Learn to respond to your messages, or I will not be responsible for the next time you miss something important.”

Dante waved his hand as if batting away an annoying moth. “Eh. If it’s important, it’ll get to me.”

“Because I have been making sure you found out. This ends here, Dante. At the very least, promise that you will answer your phone calls, if messaging is too much for you.”

————————

Nero

> Okay what did you do now > why is Dante messaging me suddenly about sibling abuse. 

I have done nothing of that sort. Your uncle is simply being over dramatic after a few stabs from a few summoned swords, for not paying proper attention to his phone. < Next time he does not respond, I am no longer responsible for relaying a message. <

> ...okay > okay you know what sure > no one is dead and maybe this is for the better. > I’m surprised you didn’t go off on him way earlier. 

I have suggested to him that if it’s his wont to ignore his messages, he ought to at least answer his phone calls. <

> Gotcha > Blow up his phone with his ringtone not his text tone. > He’d better start answering. 

There is no need to blow up anything. But I make no promises on Dante’s ability to respond. <

> hell it’s a figure of speech, dad. > But thanks for trying

————————

Dante

> Hey > Hey Vergil > Hey

I’m upstairs. What seems to be the issue? <

> Holy shit you do respond.

How did you think the others were able to come to me when you didn’t respond to your phone? < Idiot. <

> Okay you know what > You win this round > I didn’t think you were getting so comfy with this phone thing

This wasn’t a competition. < That was meaningless. <

> Fine forget it > Come downstairs > We have a client.

#the only reason vergil's contact list #displays people with their names only #is because he hasn't figured out how to change it yet #otherwise dante would not be just dante in his phone #devil may cry #prompt request #vergil #dante #nero #nico #kyrie #lady #not proofread #wordborne

[subarublue]

Hey, Suby. Hope you’re doing well! For the ask game: 4 and 11? 😎

Hey Leon!

I’m doing great today! I hope you are too!

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Oh lord...probably about 13? And that doesn’t even count the ideas I have that I may or may not be able to do 😅

One of them is called (tentatively) ‘Our Brothers’ Keepers’ and is part of my Sparda Family Bonding Time series. Kyrie asks Dante to talk to Nero about Credo’s death, like he did for her in part 1 of the series ‘Kindred Spirits’, thinking it will be better coming from him since he was there for it. Dante of course is reluctant, but she convinces him and he and Nero end up having a really big heart to heart about Credo and Vergil and how each of their deaths (or in Vergil’s case, not-so-death) affected them. I hope to have lots of family fluff and bonding in it when I’m done.

11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

Just a fun hobby for me, though I can easily see why some people are so passionate about it. It’s definitely enjoyable!

[skvaderarts]

Apocrypha Chapter Twenty Nine: Antithesis

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Twenty Nine: Antithesis

 Note: I LOVE the comments everyone left on the last two chapters! It's so rewarding! I'll be building my first ever PC today. Wish me luck!

(-~-)

The room fell silent as mist blanketed the surrounding city. So far, the early morning hours had been filled with a thick blanket of fog, and rain was expected before noon. Thankfully, everyone was inside, even if they were not all under the same roof. As soon as the train had arrived, Dante and Vergil had gone to meet the others, insisting that Nero stay behind both for his own safety and for V’s. They had no way of knowing whether or not the cult had managed to track them down, and while they were relatively sure that they had taken care of them once and for all, Vergil was, as always, not optimistic.

Nero had stayed behind as requested, begrudgingly accepting the fact that they were right about what was going on. As much as he wanted to help protect his family and friends, V was a sitting duck so long as he was asleep in Magnolia’s guest room, and there was absolutely no way he was going anywhere in the state that he was currently in. Despite the fact that his injuries had been sufficiently patched, and the bleeding had stopped, there was still no way that he was going to simply walk out of her house and possibly into the line of fire again.

In a rare moment of benevolence, the universe decided not to test them any further, at least for one day. The train had pulled into the station with very little fanfare, and they had managed to make sure that everyone made it home safely. Much to the surprise of Kyrie and Nico, Magnolia insisted that they all stay until the next day to minimize the chances of any stragglers following them home. Needless to say that the living room had been very full for a few short hours.

Under the cover of darkness, Nero and the others had gone their separate ways, Lady taking it upon herself to make sure that Patty made it home safely. And with everyone out of town and ample time to sit and wait for V to recover (Magnolia insisted that V stay at her home until she deemed him ready to leave this time), Dante had taken the opportunity to travel back to the cult’s stomping grounds to try and find out what had become of Trish. Griffon had returned an absolute mess, stating that he’d shown Trish the way through the forest and that she’d decided to stay behind and investigate. As sure as Dante was that his longtime friend didn’t need his help, he was also sure that a little while alone with his injured son wasn’t going to do Vergil any harm. He needed to see for himself what had happened in that place, and he needed to take a better look at this “conduit” that everyone kept going on about. If an Arcana was involved, then it couldn’t hurt to have more information to share with the rightful keepers of the blade when the time came.

And so they’d gone their separate ways, trying to utilize the calm before the storm as best as they could.

Two days had passed since that decision.

As residual condensation ran down the windows and onto the ledge below, Vergil glanced over at V. He’d spent the better part of three days asleep, more than likely drained from his injuries. And although Magnolia had confirmed that he wasn’t in any form of coma, Vergil had decided that the best course of action had been to stay behind and at his side, trying not to seem as eager for him to awaken as he actually was. As much as the Darkslayer didn’t want to admit it, he was slightly concerned as to why V had yet to awaken from his extended slumber. While passing out after the residual energy that came with triggering for the first time wore off was far from unheard of, sleeping for three days straight was simply insane.

Was that some sort of gauge of his newfound strength? Did his body require that sort of time to reset and properly acclimate to such a drastic change in his biology? It didn’t seem unlikely, but it also didn’t make Vergil any less stir crazy. At the end of the day, he needed to be sure that his oldest son was actually going to be okay, and this wasn’t helping in any way, shape, or form.

“You do know that hovering over him isn’t going to make him wake up any quicker, don’t you?” Magnolia said quietly as she inched into the room, a sympathetic look on her face. The botanist didn’t know what she expected to see when she entered the room, but a part of her had hoped that there had been some change to her young patient's condition.

Vergil glanced over at her wordlessly, not at all surprised to see her again. She’d been checking in on V every hour or so for the better part of the morning, quietly worrying over him like a worried mother. From what he could tell, nothing seemed to be wrong with V other than the fact that he had yet to awaken from his prolonged and worry inducing slumber. Magnolia had checked basic things such as his temperature and heart rate several times, noting no change in his physical state. And if his demeanor and rather peaceful appearance were anything to go by, the young summoner wasn’t suffering in any way, shape, or form. He was simply taking the longest nap ever.

“I might have come to that conclusion by now, yes.” Vergil said as he reclined slightly, the back of the chair he was sitting in touching the wall nearest to the window. It came to rest in a slightly odd position, but not one that either of them paid any mind to.

“What I mean is… aren’t you tired?” Magnolia said as she came around the side of the bed to run her usual tests, a slightly worried tone tenting her normally melodic voice.” I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep since you arrived.”

The Darkslayer folded his arms across his chest loosely, more defensive than upset in any regard. “I have no interest in sleeping.”

“Neither do children, but they still require it, Vergil.” She said flatly as she recorded her results. There was still no notable change in his state. And from what she could tell, his vitals were just as they had been for the last day or so. V was simply depleted, and there was no changing that for the time being. Still, Magnolia found herself wishing that there was something more she could do to help. Seeing someone so young in such a state genuinely hurt her soul, bringing her back to unpleasant memories from her own past. The last time she’d seen her parents, they had been in a similar state. Only they were much older and had accomplished considerably more in the time that had been allotted to them. No one so young should have to suffer so egregiously.

Vergil closed his eyes, taking in her statement with a slight amount of salt. While he understood the validity of her statement, that still didn’t change his stance on the matter. And he didn’t care how irrational that seemed to anyone else involved. “Don’t you have a shop to attend to?”

“It’s the weekend. And even if it wasn’t, I would be for this.” Magnolia said with an offhanded gesture towards V as she recorded the last of her results in a composition notebook that she kept on the bedside table. It wasn’t exactly a patient spreadsheet, but then this wasn’t exactly a hospital, so it was the best she could do in the interim.” I have more important things to attend to at the moment.”

For a moment, Vergil quietly wondered to himself if his longtime associate could actually afford closing her shop for the conceivable future. While he knew that her lineage was one of substantial pedigree and, as such, had amassed substantial wealth in the many generations since they’d been established, Magnolia had never been the sort to accept monetary assistance from others, even her own family. Much like him, she equated the concept of owing another entity financially to them possessing ownership over her. And much like him, she found that idea utterly revolting. She would much rather strike out of her own accord, and deal with the undesired backlash of her actions herself. That had been what firmly differentiated her from the rest of her family as far as he was concerned.

The Ludwicks were a family. A coven.

Magnolia was an individual.

And no one was going to take that hard earned independence from her without one hell of a fight.

“You kept your word, I see.” Vergil said quietly, his eyes traveling back to his unconscious son as Magnolia gave him a questioning look.” You said you had no intention of abiding by the traditions set forth by your ancestors, and here you are. Was it worth it?”

A look of realization crossed Magnolia’s face as she finally comprehended what Vergil was going on about. As the oldest daughter of her family, she was the de facto leader of her family’s coven, and leader of the Ludwick shaman. It had been her duty to uphold her sect’s traditions and practices, but she had no interest in doing so. Her heart and mind belonged to other less… questionable practices. And as such, she had chosen to go against them by not participating in them. Instead, she had chosen a quiet life filled with interests that the rest of her bloodline would probably consider incredibly mundane, only occasionally straying into adventure and conquest. And when her parents had died and she’d told the rest of her family that she planned to do so, Vergil, unlike everyone else she knew, had believed her. And then he had simply vanished, only to return over twenty years later with a favor to ask.

There was no proper way to express what that had meant to her at such a difficult time in her young life.

“I have to say, it most certainly was.” Magnolia said quietly as she sat down on the windowsill, taking her hair down and allowing it to flow freely.” It cost me the loyalty of most of my family, but if that was all it took, then perhaps I didn’t have it to begin with. And besides, I’m not alone in the end after all. That being said, I do with that my sisters would simply kiss and make up already. They are being quite childish.”

Vergil smirked in response to her answer for a brief moment, the irony of that statement not lost on him in the slightest. He was self aware enough to be able to see some of his own life issues reflected in her life, and pity her suffering regardless of her desire for him to do so. It was a shame that her family had never seen her brilliance, and an even bigger one that her nearly equally bright younger siblings had fallen short in the same regard.

“It seems that my confidence in Willow and Aluta has been misplaced.” Vergil said, barely concealing his scathing sarcasm. The two younger girls had been hell on earth for him during his brief time spent with them in his youth. As far as he was concerned, saying that Magnolia was the smart one wasn’t as much an opinion as it was a concrete fact. While the other two girls were far from dull, they weren't exactly on their older sister’s level, either. Not even close.” And I will never understand your family’s obsession with botanically themed names. It’s just so… asinine.”

The plucky botanist shook her head, snickering quietly to herself. “ I never took you for much of a liar, Son of Sparda. You never had any faith in them to start with! I know it, you know it, everyone including them should know it by this point.” She said almost playfully, thankful for the reprieve from the lingering tension that blanketed the room.” As for the naming conventions... well I could say the same about your family! You’ve exhausted nearly all the good Latin names already, and you're only about three generations in! It’s about longevity, my dear. To pick a theme and run it into the ground, you must be dedicated, Vergil. It’s an art form.”

He shook his head, admittedly somewhat amused by Magnolia’s statement. This was why he could talk to her and not her sisters. The botanist was genuinely clever, her wit leagues above the vast majority of beings he’d spoken with during his lifetime. But regardless, he wasn’t going down without a fight. “Latin in a primordial language, one that your family’s obsession with flora and fauna owes a terrible debt to, Magnolia. We’ve yet to even scratch the surface.”

She shook her head playfully, sparing a glance at V. “Oh, I’m sure. That being said, I’m starting to get the impression that the eldest of your offspring must despise whatever dreadful name you’ve no doubt forced upon him. I’ve never once heard any of you call him by it. Do you even know what it is?”

Vergil’s gaze narrowed, his eyes roaming between Magnolia and V. A fair question, to be sure. And one he had walked himself into like the fool that he was. But not one that he felt like giving a meaningful answer to. “... I’m waiting for the proper moment to expose him in the most unexpected way possible. I only get to do it one, after all.” He paused for a moment, his voice quieting slightly as the humor he’d possessed left him.” As for his motivation for introducing himself in the way that he does… I suspect he has other reasons. Perhaps reasons that are too personal to speculate on, even for me.”

Magnolia nodded, understanding how to take a hint and when to drop a subject before things took a turn for the worst. Their families were complicated. There was no reason to make things any worse than they already were. “Speaking of speculation, I have some I’d like to share about your son.” She stood up and made her way over towards V, the young summoner still fast asleep.” I have reason to believe that he’s still recovering, though not in the way that you might expect. He healed two days ago. Physically at least. The only reason I’ve bothered to keep his bandages in place was to apply pressure to his bruises in the hope that they’d heal faster. But aside from that, he’s not physically impaired to any meaningful degree. I have reason to believe that he does in fact benefit from a heightened healing factor, though only when he’s asleep.”

Her observation gained her a slightly baffled look from Vergil. Although that didn’t make much sense to him, he wasn’t going to discount it. But the entire concept seemed somewhat counterproductive to him.” Do you have any idea why that might be?”

She nodded, flipping through her composition notebook.” As a matter of fact, I do. It’s because of V’s nonexistent energy levels. I was not made aware until just recently that he’s got a, how should I put this, weak constitution. I assumed that he was simply experiencing a weak spell as a result of his recent return. No, according to him he’s always been like this. And I believe that is why his latent abilities are so segmented and slow to activate. His body is using his standard power to keep him stable, acting as a sort of crutch to his immune system. But once asleep, his abilities no longer need to stretch themselves so thin and he recovers. It all makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?”

Vergil nodded to himself slowly, considering her statement.” ... That would help make sense of his current condition as well. It is not so much a question of whether or not he is capable of triggering, but a question of if he can physically handle it when he does so. 

She snapped her fingers, signaling that he’d gotten the gist of her statement.“ Tell me Vergil, being a hybrid yourself, do you believe it possible to actually be so powerful that your body simply cannot sustain its own ambient energy? That it is possible to be too powerful for your own good?”

He sighed begrudgingly, not at all keen on the implications of that statement. He’d spent a lifetime working towards becoming more powerful, throwing away everything that wasn’t taken away from him in his endless pursuit of power. And in the ultimate act of irony, he had helped conceive a being that was the very antithesis of himself. A hybrid so powerful that their body was actually harmed by their own powers to an extent. How much more ironic could things possibly be?

“And yet he displays very little of the power that you speak of.” Vergil ws unsure of what to think about such an observation, despite the fact that it made sense when contrasted to some of the things he’d seen involving V. But perhaps the implications were simply too troubling to consider. Could V be cursed with the very thing that he actively desired? Was that even a curse? Was there such a thing as too much power when it came to demonic abilities? Truly, he was at a crossroads with this revelation.

“Maybe that’s by design. Maybe something happened to him once. Something so traumatic that he’s repressed it and his abilities along with it.” Magnolia shrugged, unsure of what more she could say on the subject. “You must remember that your sons are not quite like you and your brother. They are more human. That imbalance had so come with tradeoffs. And while they seem to be good, I can only assume that some of them are not. You and I both understand the costs of such power. Take my clan and our abilities for example. And if that is not sufficient, look to your own bloodline, Vergil. It is a possibility to consider. Sometimes power doesn’t make sense. It’s dubious and it comes from a variety of sources. At times you can hold it in your hand. Other times it is something you feel in your heart. You don’t have to believe it to be true.”

On that concept, they agreed, even if it was for different reasons. Vergil would have to consider the options provided to him, but his longtime friend’s observations made a lot of sense to him. But until V woke up, they had no way of knowing for sure. And that fact alone was enough to cause Vergil a new level of dismay that he didn’t know he possessed. The idea that the very thing he'd devoted so much of his life to might be the very thing that V desired and benefited from the least was almost unreal to him. And as soon as his son woke up, he intended to try and find out.

They needed to go to that island that Dante had spoken of.

And they needed to meet the Guardians of the Arcana.

(-~-) This chapter has been very interesting. And I already have the coolest idea for next week’s chapter. Gotta get as much writing done as possible before the holidays arrive, right? I hope this chapter sparks some interesting but civil conversation in the comments section, and I hope to see you for chapter thirty. I have some very special stuff planned for the 30th chapter of this fic and the 50th chapter in this series. That’s just an unreal number lol! What I wouldn’t do to have a physical copy of this fic!

#Apocrypha #Vergil #V #Magnolia Ludwick #Vergil and Magnolia #DMCV #DMC5 #DMC #Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry V #Post Devil May Cry 5

[nico-drives-badly]

V Imagine Thing, I Guess?

(Because I love this chaotic goth boy way too much for my own good)

If I were to imagine the perfect love interest for V specifically (ignoring the whole Vergil aspect, of course, since that makes things a little hairy)...

I would imagine him visiting a little family-owned bookstore in Red Grave or a nearby city, and meeting a quiet, quirky girl working behind the counter. The two would bond over their mutual love of books and poetry, and what was intended to be a short browse around the store stretches into an hours-long conversation.

V finds himself visiting the bookstore more and more frequently in the following weeks, just to talk to this beautiful girl with an even more beautiful mind. The girl soon realizes that there’s something different about this boy, but his peculiar nature is what fascinates her the most. Eventually, the girl gathers enough courage to finally ask V out on a coffee date one evening, and V is just about to give her his answer...

...When suddenly a demon comes crashing through the windows, followed by the Devil May Cry crew on its tail.

V helps fight it off, naturally, all while protecting his newfound lover. Once the demon is finally gone, V awkwardly explains the whole situation to the girl, and he almost shamefully admits that he’s not entirely human. He expects her to freak out and run away, or at the very least be upset with him, since he did technically lie to her about who/what he was...

But the girl simply laughs and introduces herself to the rest of the crew, seemingly unfazed by it all. V is incredibly confused, but the girl reminds him with a wink that if her favorite stories had taught her anything, it’s that she should never back down from an adventure. She eagerly begins to ask questions to the crew and begs them to teach her how to fight with weapons like that, because it’s just that freaking cool.

And then V, realizing that this quiet girl is lowkey a daredevil, sizes her up to his general tomfoolery and is just like “yep, she’s a keeper.”

(Also, her name is Rose, she’s a redhead, and she’s a dragon ace, because this is my imagines post and I can do what I want.)

#devil may cry #dmc v #dmc vitale #imagine #nico’s concepts #ramblings (life rewritten edition) #ramblings (​life rewritten edition)

[aeide-thea]

i probably should have written this post earlier, i.e. before i had more of a bottle of rosé than i’m quite willing to admit to, but! i did not! so you are getting the not-not-drunk version! on the bright side alcohol’d me is very nice, mostly they are just Friendly and Happy albeit a little overinclined 2 inform you about how sad it is that they and A— are passing like ships in the night, that is, without any kissing...

anyway! today was a Day omg. i was very stupidly nervous about my german exam for reasons unbeknownst to man or otherwise nonbinary person, except i guess that i wanted it to be painfully apparent to A— that i’m good at this, which, uh, if he didn’t know that already he’s kind of oblivious and also my quickness has yet to cause him to be overwhelmed with love for me, why is that honestly! but anyway i was pretty excruciatingly jittery, like, we were all sitting in our formal rows and there were Extra Non-Classmate Strangers joining us for the proficiency exam and like, everyone else was being quiet and normal and i was, like, making dramatic woeful faces at C and telling her to pat my head and tell me it was going to be okay, which, jesus, self, calm yr tits! unclear if A— was observing this, he was there at this point but also my stratagem has mostly been to assiduously avoid any chance of eye contact in case my face somehow says ‘hello i think yr beautiful and would like to grammatically bump faces,’ which frankly seems like a likely thing for my face to say! anyway we did our exam and like, babe, i love you but also when you write a thing and then go back and add an introduction you’re supposed to make sure that e.g. people are introduced the first time we encounter them, rather than the second? and not repeat yourself? so that was a little lol. anyway we had a choice of two passages and i went with the one that was about wolfram eilenberger’s zeit der zauberer, which is not important except that the ““conclusion”” on this passage was, like, ‘and then mussolini and hitler leveraged the economic and political crises of the period—’ [at which point a nice friendly dazu compound, hello, how nice to encounter you here in the home stretch when i thought perhaps i might be free and clear!] ‘—to build up their movements, which led to fascism/nazism,’ the end. dear A—, i am very bad at conclusions but i’m pretty sure that was not one! anyway that was the first mention of mussolini in my day but not the last.

then C and i went to the grad cafe, which, sadness, who is going to let me into the grad cafe now! i will have to rub elbows with the general populace once more! which is especially a thing bc holy shit is campus swarming with literal high schoolers rn, i mean, good for them but also i have a solid decade on these children and it makes me feel ancient, remember when i was this ignorant of how much the world was going to bruise me!

anyway we went to the grad cafe and hung out with C’s boyfriend L for a while, who is like. a quiet really lovely italian potato? jesus i come up with the worst most insulting similes to describe people i actually like, i said to C this morning that i was the neurotic cheetah friend and she was the sensible dog friend which i meant as, like, ‘yikes i need a keeper, i am very grateful for yr well-adjustedness!’ but i feel like was probably kind of insulting although i apologized later and she was like, honestly i’m just amused! you were so zany this morning! which. yes. yes i was.

anyway we hung out and did postmortems on our respective exams and then went for lunch at Local Thai Place where i haven’t been since... maybe since i brought R there? is that possible? anyway in a long time, so that was kinda nice.

and then A emailed me to say,

A—

which like, sry abt the humblebrag or whatever but i’m just. how fucking typical honestly, jesus. i’m so absurd.

also he wants a ~contact in my department~ bc literally everyone else in the class was a grad student who needed to pass the reading proficiency exam as part of their degree requirements, except, uh, i am a baby dork who just thought it would be interesting, so i don’t think there’s anyone to notify particularly! i mean i guess he could let Prof V— know, but she would definitely be like, dot dot dot thanks, glad K— is out there jumping through random unnecessary hoops??? or, you know, whatever the equivalent of that is in german, since she’s also a native speaker, so presumably they would conduct this entire exchange auf deutsch...

anyway then i had more class, whoop whoop, which for my sins was a second class on the fucking aeneid, goddamn, i have spent a truly staggering amount of time being lectured on that poem considering how much i hate it! i mean parts of it are flooringly good and parts of it are workmanlike as shit and parts of it are shamefully propagandistic and the latter two aspects make me real frustrated with it even though the first aspect is also very real. anyway i decline to let drunkme have the final word on vergil so like, maybe someday there will be more things to say. although also my main feeling about him is intense apathy so also there might not be.

but so anyway that led to the second mention of fascism in my day, bc the fasces came up somewhere and then we got into Modern Reception of Same, which admittedly in diesen finsteren Zeiten is not nearly as remarkable as it might once have been, but i still was, idk, amused that my life had arranged itself in such a way that both my classes raised the topic! although i guess maybe a different way of saying that is, thank god classicists and germanists are acknowledging some historical culpability here, this is kind of an important time to be doing that...

but anyway back to some more frivolous notes, bc at the end of the day this is a perblog—

as i said to E earlier, i retract any aspersions i had previously cast on my baby mythology classmates, one of them asked for an extension on the paper and so we all got one, thank fuckin god honestly; and

A— emailed me as [different subset of my legal name than i have been using in that class all semester] and i really don’t know what to make of that, like, in the system i’m [full legal name] and my email is [firstinitial lastname] so unless he’s been doin some pokin on facebook or something i d fuckin k honestly! A Mystery! probably the actual answer is that he has paid insufficient attention to get my name right but also he got it right in class on multiple occasions so ????

anyway on that note i am going to end this inexcusably long post so i can go to bed and then study a bunch and then take another exam tomorrow evening and then help Baby Sister move and then somehow produce a dauntingly-long paper out of currently-nothing, yikes yikes yikes! 

in the meantime we can all take bets on whether A— will give me the A+ that quite frankly my disgusting aptitude and enthusiasm deserve, or the significantly more dubious grade that my total failure to hand in any of the more boring assignments has technically probably consigned me to... i mean, to be clear, the grade is not remotely important! except for the part where i'm obviously going to use it to decide whether he liked me at all, because that’s obviously what grades mean! welcome to this embarrassing illustration of the ways in which my brain is in certain ways very good but also in other ways very very crazy!

#i just. #An Exhibit #on yrs truly #videbimus lumen #journaling #feelingsblogging #auf deutsch

[smolpocketsmonsters]

A Healer In A Tree

Part One

Elfroot green eyes flicked over those who had been injured in the last werewolf attack on the clan. Those who were surviving their injuries but… they were in so much pain, and there was nothing more he could do beyond wait.

They needed something but the cure was something that Aether didn’t know.

And Zathrian…

Zathrian had been acting particularly odd since the clan arrived in the forest and became trapped there, unable to leave least they face another assaults from the werewolves. He cared about his clan, yes, but Aether couldn’t help but feel that the Keeper was hiding something.

It increasingly nagged at Aether, chewed at him from the inside, but he couldn’t confront the Keeper about it.

He couldn’t because he was an outsider to the clan already, a foreigner even despite still being Dalish, a guest who came to study and help as much as he could. Zathrian’s healing magic was second to none and Aether could only hope to be able to achieve that level of skill in his lifetime, and Zathrian, despite his reluctance, had taught him much.

But the lessons, Zathrian told him yesterday, had come to an end.

The Keeper intended to go into the forest, alone, leaving his First to lead the clan in his absence should he not come back, and Aether was welcome to stay under her approval, to learn from her if she wished.

Zathrian had been gone for hours and Aether lingered by the wounded.

He had done all that he could with what he had, with the plants he had gathered three days ago, and now all he could do was wait and watch.

Quietly, the healer’s gaze slipped over to the bag he had settled among the grass beside the makeshift apothecary table.

Ten potent elfroot potions waited in it, for those who had rescued him in the forest to come back, the bargain he had made in order to get help out of that tree safely, least he try his luck at hopping from tree to tree and hopefully he managed to get closer to the ground without hitting every branch on the way down. An easy way to break every bone in his body and become easy prey to the sylvans and wolves, both were and other.

Instead…

He jumped.

Right into the waiting arms of a man with gorgeous amber eyes.

It was like every cheesy romance novel he had ever skimmed through back in Orlais, at least until his rescuer opened his mouth about the reward all the while looking at him like a meal.

The thought alone made Aether’s face flush with annoyance.

Angrily huffing, the healer started to pace, eyes flicking away from the apothecary table and the makeshift infirmary and out to the rest of the Dalish camp.

The group that had rescued him, Grey Wardens apparently, had other companions that had stayed behind, and much to Aether’s embarrassment, he had a history with one. A short history, just the memory of a night in a tavern, of flirting and drinking and falling into bed with someone tan, and blond, and elven, and Antivan.

Zevran, Aether recalled.

Every time the Antivan met his gaze the last three days since the new group showed up, it was with a playful, knowing smile that made Aether’s ears burn. Thankfully, beyond pleasantries, the topic of their one night was not brought up. They honestly hadn’t expected to see each other again when they parted ways that morning well over a month ago.

Strange to think that it really had been three days since the party of Wardens reentered the forest after escorting him back to the camp, back to safety.

Aether wondered about their safety though…

Then… he felt it.

He and Lanaya and Elora all looked up from what they were doing in unison, eyes rooting to the same spot in the forest, a sudden and sharp pull on the Veil, of something so completely wrapped in magic being unraveled so quickly that only mages would ever sense the event, and perhaps any mage who visited the area would feel it rippling in years to come…

It felt like a violation in and of itself.

And Aether wondered…

About the werewolves.

---------------------------------

Aether would admit he felt remotely slighted by Zathrian when he returned, the man hording his secrets as he worked on creating the cure that the Wardens helped him collect, all the while urging the healer to focus his attention on the immediate wounded: Aether’s own rescuers.

Strange how he was once again in close quarters with them, not that he terribly minded as he watched the Dalish Warden limp over to the rest of their companion and then flop down onto the ground by their personal fire, groaning as he slowly propped one foot up. Aether had an inkling that something was at least strained, possibly broken, but he didn’t have an opportunity to approach the small subsect of the camp before he heard a vaguely familiar voice.

“Aether, was it?”

Black hair and fair skin and amber eyes, just like he recalled.

The only difference now was the fresh and bloody wound on the Circle mage’s face.

“Yes,” Aether answered. “Would you like me to heal that?”

He nodded politely, remaining respectful this time, “I would prefer risking a minor scar than a very visible one,” he stated, “my healing would scar for sure.”

That made one of the healer’s brows raise in curiosity.

A blood mage?

Blood magic was not something Aether personally wanted to touch but some people were different. As long as no harm was done for the sake of malice, he truly couldn’t complain.

“Healing is not always an easy school of magic to grasp,” Aether commented, reaching up and he watched as the other mage winced slightly but stayed as still as he could under the healer’s attention. “When I’m done, you won’t believe you got hurt at all.”

Ather’s confidence seemed to amuse the Warden vaguely. “That’s the attitude.”

“More than attitude is skill.”

After that is silence as they allow the magic to surge into life, gentle and warm and calm and soothing with every stroke of his thumb over the injury, until, finally, Aether retreated and let Vergil wipe the blood from his face while the healer retrieved a shard of mirror from his pack, allowing the mage to see the results.

He was very satisfied with the results, the spot completely bare of any sign that the wound ever existed. Like it never happened. “Perhaps I could repay you for this feat? Would some ancient texts reading interest you?”

An unnecessary offer but one that none the less made Aether’s green eyes light up with interest. “You found some?”

“I did,” he admitted, “they are in surprisingly good condition, unless werewolves started writing their own thesis’.”

A humorous thought, but as much as Aether wanted, he still had a job to do.

“Your companion still needs healing. If the offer still stands when I’m done…”

And he smirked, an expression that was almost second-nature to that face. “It will still stand.”

And it certainly did.

---------------------------------

Despite the fact that the Wardens now had the Dalish elves as allies to their treaties, the party did not leave the following day as they originally seemed to have planned.

This was because of their Dalish Warden, Tierian Mahariel of the Sabrae clan, who, Aether later realized, was incredibly homesick. This adventure he was on as a Warden was by no choice of his own, in fact he was only a Warden because the alternative was dying. He wanted to stay and soak in the atmosphere of something familiar for just a little bit longer before he would be willing to go back, like a man dying of thirst drinking his fill from an oasis before pushing on once again.

Their stay had many benefits.

Their bard, Leliana, was able to learn Dalish stories from Sarel. Morrigan was curious about the people as well. Zevran wanted to indulge in some leisure. And Vergil Surana had some ancient texts that he was getting help translating with the help of the wandering Dalish healer.

Only Alistair seemed to be eager to get going.

But he was easily outvoted and easy to pacify with good quality halla cheese.

Besides, Tierian said, it was just for a few days.

And for the first couple days, Vergil and Aether often sat together, pouring over the texts, the healer translating what he recognized and also asking questions about the Circle, which Vergil expressed that the Circle really was only good for the book collection it had. Aether had never seen a true library before, and it made him even more curious.

It was the forest that eventually called to Aether, safer now than it had been before, and he asked Vergil to show him the places he had told him of, the tombstones and the ruins, the Grand Old Oak, and the hermit’s home. There was knowledge to be learned and knowledge to share, and if there was anything that the two of them both seemed to thrive for in equal measure, it was just that: knowledge.

The forest was alive with noise, no longer silent from the threat of the werewolves, and Aether was grateful for the peace that it brought with it, the scent of river-silt rich in the air as they neared the source. He collected plants along the way, tucked neatly into pouches for later care when they returned. It would take days for them to explore all the places that Vergil mentioned, and it didn’t bother Aether.

It was the sound of quick feet that drew Aether’s attention from his most recently picked plant, and Vergil’s eyes met his only briefly before a set of wolves burst out from the bushes, fangs bared and ready to do damage.

But they were not helpless.

It was lightning and ice in the background of Aether’s mind as he concentrated, tugging at strands of Fade beneath the ground like spiderwebs, seeping his control into the roots and earth itself before he pulled and the very nature that surrounded him became his own weapon, wrapping around those they captured like pythons before crushing them and dragging them down to feed the floral.

And when it was quiet, Aether looked up, and found Vergil’s eyes on him, muted surprise on his face.

And a playful smile made itself at home on Aether’s lips.

“Can’t let my brave Warden rescuer have all the fun, now can I?”

#a healer in a tree #vergil surana #warden surana #aether #aether alerion #aetherius alerion #vergil x aether #icylook #icy-warden

[mandysxmuses]

✏ nero, verheiler, niemand 5

Nero:

Nero experiences frequent vivid nightmares about his more serious problems and regrets -- he sometimes sees Credo in his dreams, and after the incident with Vergil, that scenario’s played over again as well. He doesn’t like to discuss them.

While he enjoys eating pretty much any kind of meat, Nero’s favorite food is actually biscuits with honey.

He hates any form of horror media.

Sometimes he’ll take his boots off in the van to get back at Nico for the smoke smell. This always results in him getting hit on the head with something, usually a metal arm.

When he was in school, he made a habit of writing profane messages on bathroom stall doors. They were eventually covered in his writing.

Verheiler:

Given that Verheiler’s corruption is linked directly to his physical health, a Keeper being chased by an angry Egel/Walter in his themed areas is not very good for him, as it’s best represented by causing him harm. Any corruption to his environment will result in him being injured as if he’s healed something.

He is the new favorite victim of Todd when a game is not active, due to his tendencies not to fight nor speak up about his torment.

He is one of the only members of the Void to openly acknowledge Vergess’s existence, and has further earned Renee’s respect as a result.

One’s relationship with Verheiler cannot be influenced positively or negatively by the relationship you have with the other boys -- he bases his opinion of you on your actions toward him only.

He is able to play the flute.

Niemand:

Despite being loathed from the very beginning by his creator, Niemand used to trust Jemand. He would go to him for advice on what to do in certain situations, and Jemand would always respond with something cruel or otherwise humiliating. This continued up until the first few games were completed.

Renee was created before Niemand began killing Keepers, and when he killed his first one, she called him the “greatest disappointment she’d ever felt” when they had previously been building a positive relationship. This greatly increased his fear of betrayal and abandonment.

His favorite type of flower is the sunflower, and they usually show up somewhere in his areas.

Usually, Niemand sleeps in the tavern, as Jemand adamantly refuses to make him his own bed.

Having a high relationship with Niemand usually results in a slightly more negative relationship with the other boys, unless they’re otherwise convinced to befriend him. (With Jemand, the impact is highly negative, and he’ll never be able to befriend Niemand without remembering Emma first.)

#M; Pull My Devil Trigger! #M; The Healer #M; The Nobody #Anonymous

[harlot-of-oblivion]

A Rose of Unconscious Beauty (Part 6)

All work and no play make Dante a dull devil, but when he finds out about his brother's flowery friend he sees an opportunity to cure his boredom. Well, that and his curiosity about what kind of woman catches Vergil's attention. So, he decides to spontaneously visit your garden to see what all the buzz is about.

Hope you enjoy these two finally meeting! And gardening puns...just all the gardening puns. 😆❤

Here’s the link to the list of all the flowers featured in this part. 🌹🥰🌹

Chapter 1: Meeting Dante

Life has been pretty good for Dante since he got back from his little foray into hell. He may still be in quite a bit of debt, but that never stops him from living life to the fullest. For the first time in a long time he does not feel so alone in the Devil May Cry shop. There is just one problem that plagues him now as he leans back in his chair, feet propped up on the edge of his desk as a huge overdrawn yawn escapes his mouth…

He is bored.

Very, very…BORED.

The occasional odd job usually keeps him entertained, but business has been slow recently. There is only so much games of pool and swimsuit magazines before Dante is positively itching to fight something…anything. Nero has taken advantage of this dry spell and is finally getting hitched to Kyrie. Even Vergil, who he annoys into fighting sometimes just for sheer fact that it relieves his boredom for a while, has taken to disappearing from time to time.

Oh yeaaaaah. The mysterious flowery friend.

Dante ponders the potential of that whole situation giving him something to do besides sitting alone in his shop. He did not think it strange when Vergil started to go out more…in fact, he is proud that his brother is finally embracing his humanity and making this world his home. But when his cranky brother came back to the shop with pretty little blue flowers wrapped around his beloved Yamato…well, now that just piqued his curiosity. He tries to goad Vergil into telling him where he got the flowers or where he has been disappearing off to lately, but that conversation usually ends with him being stabbed a lot. Dante got his answer one day when Nero asks if he knew this florist that his old man just recommended to him. It all just suddenly clicked. The constant visits, the soft cloud nine smiles, just the overall secrecy…

Vergil…has a crush.

Just the idea of his brother being head over heels for someone has Dante shaking his head in wonder. Vergil has already left the shop, probably visiting his florist friend if Dante had to guess. It happens to be the day that Nero and Kyrie are supposed to meet their savior of flowers. He wanted to tag along to see what all the hype is about, but Nero absolutely refused to let him. Usually, that is not enough to deter Dante, but then his nephew just had to sick Kyrie on him. And how could anyone say no to her? So, here he sits…extremely bored and very curious.

I have to know if it’s true…if my dumbass brother really is lovestruck…

A sudden idea pops into Dante’s head as he takes out his cellphone and begins to text:

Dante: Hey! Gonna see your old mans flower girl today, amiright?

Nero: NO. Forget it.

Nero: Im not spying 4 u

Dante: NO ONE said ANYTHING about spying!

Dante: Just a couple of pics!

Nero: NO U CREEP

Dante: OH C’MON!!!

Dante taps on his screen vigorously as he provokes his stubborn nephew to reply, but after a few minutes of continued silence he gives up. He rolls his eyes as he groans in mild irritation and drops his phone onto the desk. His nimble fingers stroke his scruffy chin in thought, wondering if there will ever be an end to this torturous boredom…then it hits him faster than the Devil May Cry van. Nico! Dante snaps his fingers and nods his head in approval at his own ingenious idea. He snatches his phone back up and begins to text again:

Dante: Heyyyyyyy

Nico: Wat

Dante: Wanna help a friend out?

Nico: Lemme guess

Nico: U want me to spy for ya, right?

Dante: A couple of pics is NOT spying

Nico: Yeah yeah whatever

There is a long pause and Dante almost thinks his last-ditch effort is a bust. Until…

Nico: Mayyyyybe I’ll do it

Nico: Wats in it for me tho?

Dante only has to think about her prize for second before replying.

Dante: I’ll let you check out my guns

Nico: Ive already seen my fair share of muscles

Dante: Im talking about Ebony and Ivory

Nico: U GOTTA FUCKIN DEAL

Dante clenches his fist in victory. Nico tells him to hold tight while she finds a good hiding spot and the perfect angle. So, he grabs the nearest swimsuit magazine to read while he waits for Nico’s sneaky photos.

He only has to read a couple of pages of articles and check out a few curvy ladies before his phone vibrates. “Well now…let’s see what we've got,” he announces aloud as his hand instantly picks up his phone and eagerly opens up the message. Here she is! is written below two pictures of a bubbly woman with a bright smile and lively eyes. In one photo she is sitting down at a garden table, and in the other she is standing by a bed of flowers. She is wearing white summer dress and has a white flower in her hair. Dante chuckles in glee because now he understands why his brother has fallen so hard: the local florist is a total babe!

Dante is about to get back to his magazine when another text from Nico comes through:

Nico: Yoooooooooo

Nico: U didnt tell me that Vergil was gonna be here!

Dante: Im not my brother’s keeper!

Nico: Im NOT about to get stabbed if he catches me

Nico: Im out

Dante: WAIT

Dante: I’ll sweeten the deal!

Dante: If you get a pic of them together

Nico: DANTE

Dante: Then I’ll let you check out my guns

Dante: FOR A WEEK

A very long pause follows and Dante thinks that Nico is still going chicken out despite his sudden add on to her prize when her response chimes in:

Nico: U better hold up your end of the deal, Dante

Dante: Nicooooo u know I always keep my word!

Nico: Cuz if u dont, I’ll run u over with the van

Dante: No u wont

Nico: VROOM VROOM BITCH

Dante’s amused chuckle echoes throughout the shop. “So, that’s where you’re running off to,” he comments to himself. “The secret garden.” As he waits for Nico’s next photo, he starts to wonder what kind of a woman catches the eye of his broody brother. I mean…sure, you’re a cutie, but Dante knows that Vergil is not so easily swayed by looks alone. Of course, he could be reading into this too much and you’re actually just a really adorable friend…which is why he has to see both of you together. If Vergil has that soft smile on his face and if you show any sign of reciprocating his brother’s feelings…

His phone vibrates and Dante immediately opens the message. How's this for ya? reads Nico’s text along with a bunch of laughing emojis and a video clip. He arches an eyebrow as he presses play. He sees Nero, Kyrie, Vergil, and you all walking together by a bunch of flowers. He cannot make out the soft conversation of the group, but he does hear a lighthearted giggle as you do a twirl. Dante squints his eyes when he notices your hand reach for something in your dress…then his eyes widen as you throw petals into the air. The distinct growl of his brother comes through the audio and Dante nearly chokes on his own laugh. Some of the little pink flowers you threw…are sticking to Vergil’s hair!

I’m totally saving this just for the look on his face!

Dante kicks his feet off of the desk and he leans forward in his chair, never taking his eyes off the screen as Nero and Kyrie step out of frame. He tilts his head when Vergil kneels and you start to pluck the flowers from his hair. Dante has to rub his eyes to make sure he is really seeing these events correctly. Things get really interesting when you move in closer. The awkward expression on his brother’s face is pure gold. But what really has him pressing his nose to the screen is when Vergil stands up and you both just stare at each other. It is like a scene cut straight from a romantic movie. Dante has never seen his brother look so…totally in love. And you are mirroring the exact same expression.

Jackpot!

The video starts to shake and he hears Nico quietly cursing up a storm. The screen is a blur for a moment before it just totally cuts off. Dante is still for a while as he takes in everything that just happened. He honestly did not expect Vergil to be bitten by the love bug. A genuine smile curls on his lips as he thinks that maybe you are exactly what his brother needs to finally let go of the past and start living. But he cannot be the helpful little brother that he is without at least meeting you first. The genuine smile turns mischievous as Dante texts Nico about happened after the video ended and where exactly is this secret garden in the city...

(A Week Later...Reader’s POV)

The late afternoon sun beats down as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You examine the rambling roses you are currently pruning, checking to see if you missed anything before standing up and stretching your legs. Sweet basil, it’s hot, you thought, taking off your gardening hat and fanning your face as you pocket your pruning shears. You think about Vergil and how he always seems to keep cool while wearing a long blue coat in the summer.

The power of Sparda must also include internal air conditioning. You giggle at your own quip as you put the gardening hat back on your head and decide to take a break. As you walk through the multitude of flowers you search for any sign of the Son of Sparda among the flora. He has not called to inform you that he is stopping by today, but that does not necessarily mean he will not show up unannounced…annoyingly startling you before buttering you up with an offering of beautiful blooms.

Vergil has been regularly visiting you in your garden now. Sometimes both of you read and drink tea under the fruit trees, other times you have to work and just let him read in peace while frolicking about your garden. Every now and then he insists on looming close behind you, claiming that he wants to observe how you arrange bouquets and care for the flowers. There are a few times that you somehow rope him into helping since he is so inclined to learn and you must admit…seeing a tall and imposing man handle tiny flowers carefully is so endearing, making you fall even harder for the handsome devil.

You step through the backdoor and walk into your kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and swiftly open the door. When the cold air hits your face you sigh and just stand there for a moment to cool off as you reach for a bottle of water. You close the fridge and head to your office to check the status of a shipment on your computer while you guzzle down half of the bottle. The flowers for Nero and Kyrie’s wedding are well in supply, but you ordered some extra ribbon, wires, needles, and other miscellaneous supplies. It is a little stressful that you only have so much time to pull this off, but that only pushes you to do your utmost best to give them the best flowers they have ever seen. All seems to be order, you mentally note, finishing off your water bottle as you tab out of the website.

Time to get back to work! You go back out to the garden, grab the garden hose, and turn on the outdoor faucet. You adjust the nozzle on the hose to spray into a mist and set off to water some flowers. “Alright, my darlings!” you say cheerfully as you step up to the first section of flowers. “Who’s thirsty?” You happily spray their petals with glistening droplets as you hum softly. One of the many reasons why you enjoy gardening so much is just how tranquil it can be, your mind slipping into a peaceful state as all your worries just drift away and you feel like a flower basking in the warm sunlight.

Although, you do find yourself ceaselessly daydreaming about a certain white-haired gentleman while gardening lately. You cannot get the feel of his slicked back locks out of your thoughts, yearning to do more than just pluck petals from his hair. You wonder if the bergamot scent is from a cologne he is wearing or the constant cups of his favorite tea. And the expression on his face after you picked the stray petals from his hair…cheeks slightly blushing as his gleaming silver eyes stare straight into your soul. The very memory of it has you shivering in delight as you turn around to water the next section of flowers.

“Holy hollyhock!”

The sudden appearance of a man in a long red jacket standing in your garden has you jumping back in surprise. Your foot steps on the garden hose, making you lose your balance and start to tip over. Thankfully, the stranger has quick reflexes and quickly leans forward to catch your fall. “Whoa! Easy there!” he exclaims as he sets you upright, doing his best to avoid the misty spray of the hose still clutched in your hand. That is when you notice his distinct white hair swaying in front of his blue eyes. And his face…if it was not for the slight fuzz of a beard or the care-free expression, he would be the spitting image of Vergil. Which can only mean…

“You must be Dante.”

“What gave it away?” he asks, dramatically holding his hands out to the side as he nods his head in confirmation.

“You wouldn’t be a Son of Sparda if you didn’t scare your local gardener to death!”

Dante tilts head at your answer and smirks as he examines you from head to toe. “I dig the overalls,” he comments as he gestures to your attire. You look down at your green gardening overalls, the phrase "I like big buds and I cannot lie" imprinted on the front surrounded by large colorful flower buds.

“Thanks!” you laugh, turning off the garden hose. “I’m Y/N! I don’t recall Vergil saying that he was going to finally introduce me to you.”

“So, he’s told you about me? Did he mention that I am the better-looking twin?” he jests as he takes a step back and strikes a charmingly rugged pose.

“Uh, he mentioned that you are a demon hunter, a foolish buffoon, and…whoa!” Your eyebrows shoot up as you closely examine his coat. “Your jacket does look really expensive!”

Dante rolls his eyes as he relaxes from his over-the-top stance. “He just can’t let that go, huh?” He shakes his head and lightly chuckles.

“So…what brings you to my garden?” you inquire kindly, not letting his surprise visit distract you from being hospitable. Dante did not mention his brother being present here with him, so you hope that Vergil does not mind you being friendly and helping his brother out if he needs it.

“The girls keep telling me I need something to brighten up the shop,” he explains as he scratches the back of his head. “So, I figured some flowers from my brother’s friendly neighbor florist might do the trick.”

You smile sweetly. “Okay! Do you have any kind of flowers in mind?”

“Well, my mother’s favorite flowers were-”

“Burgundy roses!”

Dante quirks an eyebrow. “Did you just read my mind?”

A giggle escapes your lips as you shake your head. “Vergil told me that his mother had a modest garden herself, and that she grew those roses a lot. Don’t worry,” you affirm as your hand sets down the garden hose. A big confident smile spreads across your face as you twirl in excitement, pausing to strike your own cute pose. “I got you covered!”

He nods his head in approval. “Right on.”

You make small talk with Dante as you lead him to the rose section of your garden, asking if by “the girls” he means the other two demon hunters that work with him. He confirms your guess and grumbles about how unfair it is that you know so much the crew while he knows next to nothing about you. That is quickly remedied though as he bombards you with the oddest series of questions…most of them involving strawberries and pizza. When you tell him that you used to work at the local pizzeria and bakery in your home town he enthusiastically asks if you made the pizzas. You laugh at his boyish glee and inform him that you sometimes helped with the pizzas, but you mostly baked the pastries and desserts.

“Here we are!” You point to a bush full of the dark reddish-purple roses as you step through the various buds and blooms. “Roses of unconscious beauty!” Dante studies the rose bush as you approach it, lean in, and inhale their lovely fragrance. You breathe out in delight and start looking for the best blooms for a bouquet. “Aren’t they lovely?” You look over your shoulder and see that Dante is barely paying attention. His blue green eyes gaze distantly at the rose bush, reminding you a little of Vergil’s silver blue eyes when he recedes into his head. You wait a moment before deciding to coax him out of pensive stupor.

“Flower for your thoughts?”

Dante blinks and shakes his head. “Sorry about that. I was just…remembering something.” He walks over and stands next you, a small grin appears on his face as he peers down at you. “These would look nice on my desk. I’ll take ‘em.”

“Alright!” You reach into your pocket, taking out the pruning shears still stored in there and begin snipping some select roses, carefully removing the thorns before sticking them in another pocket until you can properly tie them together.

Dante quietly watches you for a few moments before he crosses his arms and leisurely leans back. “So…you and my brother.”

You snip a third rose as you glance over at him. “Me and your brother…?” you repeat, hoping he will expand upon the conversation he started. Dante just continues to gaze at you inquisitively. Your brow furrows in puzzlement as you wonder what he is trying to imply…until it suddenly hits you.

No way. He can’t be…

“Are you…Dad-terogating me?”

“Am I what now?”

“You know…that thing fathers do when daughters bring home their boyfriends.” Your voice drops as you do your best impersonation a stern father figure. “What are your intentions little girl?”

“Oh man,” Dante snickers. “And what if I am?” he counters with a puckish smirk.

“Well, Mr. Sparda,” you begin with a cheeky grin, turning to him while you clutch a thornless burgundy rose close to your chest. “I only have the best intentions towards your brother, Vergil. They include smiles, laughter, and a healthy dose of poetry with dash of tea…Oh!” You dip your hand into the front pocket of your overalls. “And lots of flower showers!” Your grin turns cheerful as you toss pink hydrangea petals high into the air.

Dante stares at you closely for a moment, totally unfazed by the petals scattering around him before he chuckles softly. “Well now…how can I argue with that? My party pooper of a brother needs it.”

You giggle and go back to snipping more roses. A fourth one is freed and you begin to remove the thorns from the stem. “It’s sweet of you to look out for him, you know,” you point out with a genuine smile. “You’re a good brother, Dante.”

He smiles back and is about to respond when an awful hellish screech fills the air. Your head snaps over to the direction it is coming from, but you already know what those sounds mean. Dante casually looks over as well, but he does not look as concerned as you. His face reminds you more of the neighborhood kids when the ice cream truck drives by. “Looks like our flower pickin’ is gonna have to wait,” he surmises as he struts briskly towards the commotion.

You pocket the pruning shears and the rose in your hand as you hurriedly follow behind him. The screeching is now really loud and as you step into to a clearing you see the familiar forms of demons just beyond the gates of your garden. Even though you live in a city known for its constant hellish attacks, the sight of their malformed bodies never fails to freeze your blood. The closest one, resembling a large corrupted bat, flies over the gate and hovers near one of your apple trees. It shrieks as its throat starts to glow red. Anger floods through your body when you register what it intends to do to your lovely fruit trees.

“Oh, no you DON’T!” you shout as you run by the gardening tools still laying out, grabbing the garden hoe as you pass by and rush towards the bat-like creature. It swivels around just as you draw your makeshift weapon back and swing up at it with all your strength. The hoe connects and a pained squeal rings out as the demon is knocked back a little bit away from the apple tree. You let out a shuddering breath, quickly realizing that perhaps smacking a demon with a gardening tool was not the best idea.

Multiple gunshots startle you out of your internal dread as they streak up at the bat-like demon. It shakes violently before it drops to the ground and disintegrates. You turn around and see Dante holstering two guns behind his back before giving you a round of applause. “Not bad! Very inventive use of…” his hands pause as he inspects your tool curiously.

“It’s a hoe,” you bluntly inform him.

“Really?” Dante puts his hands on his hips as he circles around you, shielding you from the oncoming demons notice. “Well then…you really know how to handle a hoe!”

You snort and check your tool for any signs of it being broken or bent. “You know what they say…a dirty hoe is a happy hoe!” you joke, flashing him the disgusting bloody residue on the tip. Dante hunches over as a hearty laugh burst from his lips. You feel a sense of accomplishment at making such a clever gardening pun, but it is short lived as a series of terrible growls and roars remind you of the current danger. “Umm,” you mutter softly, “as much as I would like to give more demons a good hoeing…”

Dante reigns in his boisterous laughter and nods. “Yeah...get yourself to safety.” He runs and skillfully jumps over the gate. Before he goes to deal with the demons, he looks over his shoulder at you. “Even though I’m not a hoe I can still get rid of these nasty weeds,” he quips with a wink.

You laugh and shake your head at his own gardening pun before retreating back to your house, sighing in relief as your backdoor comes into view. When you are a few feet away from safety, a low rumbling growl reaches your ears, making you stop in your tracks. You still have your garden hoe, so you hold it up in defense as you scan your surroundings for any immediate threat. It is quiet for a moment…then a series obscure red streaks zoom around you. Your eyes try to track whatever is circling you, but you cannot see what is stalking you like prey.

Your body is quaking now as you turn around to glance behind you. A lizard-like demon with a vicious red blade protruding from one of its scaly arms is leaping through the air straight at you. Your instincts kick in and you raise your gardening tool up in defense, even though you feel certain that it will not enough to block that sharp blade. A series of tumultuous emotions sling around your mind, but one strongly overtakes you as the image of Vergil pops into your head…regret.

I didn’t even get to tell him that-

Before you are able to close your eyes and brace yourself for the deadly impact, a sudden blur of blue spheres pop up and knock back your scaly assailant. A familiar form clad in a blue coat suddenly appears next to the demon and proceeds to hit it with a series of slashes. When he finishes his ruthless onslaught, he turns his back on the demon and dramatically sheaths his sword. Just as the hilt of the sword slams into the case, the demon convulses in pain one last time before collapsing on the ground.

The regret you felt earlier fades away as your devilish rescuer turns towards you. The usual scowl on his face is now even more severe as he scrutinizes your appearance. He may be fuming with rage, but you do not mind, nor do you care. “Vergil!” you cry, trying to thank him for saving your life, but you feel so overwhelmed that no words come out. All you can do is smile gratefully as your eyes well up with tears, so happy that you get to see the man you feel so deeply for again after all.

Read Part 6 (Ch. 2) here

Read on my Ao3

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Tagging: @drusoona, @thedyingmoon, @bettybattaglia, @veenus-ow, @meowykittenn, @fandomhell97, @vergilsangel, @venomous-lawyer, @alicewinchester

#vergil x reader #vergil #devil may cry #dmc 5 #romance #fluff #flowers #the language of flowers #gardener reader #writing #fanfiction #humor #meeting the family #hijinks and shenanigans #wingman dante #A Rose of Unconscious Beauty #a rose among the briars #and just like that a legendary wingman is born #harlot writes

[smolpocketsmonsters]

Washed Raw

Part three of Prompt 13, following Vergil’s response to the first part.

The months following the fight.

Now with a chapter title.

               “You told them.”

               Cole lifted his head but did not meet Aether’s gaze, and his legs swung lightly from the edge of the war table.

               There were already eyes on him, but his eyes were only on him.

               Wine made it less but kohl still ran. Face washed and dried, like worn hands after the battlefield. Dried and washed until raw, to stop the smell of red. He still can smell the hurt of the first one he couldn’t save, but this time it’s the hurt under his own stars and scars that he tries to wash away. He wants white not red, but he tells himself he’ll never drink white again. He always drank white with him.

               Aether’s hands trembled at his sides, and his voice cracked.

               “You told them.”

               “You should have told us,” Dorian spoke up, his voice gentle but hurt.

               Maker, why didn’t he just tell me? I could have… I don’t know. Something.

               His face crinkled, the way his brother would always make fun of him, laughingly, lovingly. Straighten up, little brother. Stiffen up that upper-lip. What you crying about? You got me. And he stands a little taller, obedient but defiant. And he calls his Nexus a butt. But he smiles just the same.

               He doesn’t smile this time.

               He’s thinner than he ever had been.

               “You wouldn’t let me help,” Cole tells him, “but they still can.”

               “I’m fine. Really.”

               But he’s not fine. Not really.

               He hurts.

               And the wine can’t help anymore.

               It never really did in the first place.

               It just made it easier to hide the hurt.

               They call him out on it.

               They noticed but they didn’t think it was this bad.

               Now that they know, they can help him.

               It hurts to know that they know. He didn’t want to bother them. They all have their own lives to live, their own freedoms to chase. He’d just hold them back, like a leash on birds that need to be free. But what about the red bird? He’d much rather that they didn’t. But they’d much rather that he did.

               And when he finally sits, face red and wet like washed black cherries he craved, cheeks and teeth and heart and stomach aching, Cole squeezes his hand and Aether squeezes back. Hurt but grateful. The others will take care of him. They’ll make sure he gets better.

               He wants a glass of wine, to numb the pain.

               White.

               But he only wanted to drink it with him.

----------------------------

               Cole told on him a lot after the intervention.

               Probably more than he knew, and it was probably a good thing.

               Aether could no longer trust himself to take proper care of himself any more.

               He knew the science behind it, the spiral staircase that he had started to descend for the sake of making up the appearance that he was wholly in control of himself, and it still caught him by surprise how he still reacted like one of his own resentful patients when he was no longer allowed to ruin himself.

               They took away the wine.

               And his private apothecary table.

               Precautious measures, he knew, but it still felt like punishment.

               But without the wine to numb the ache, he finally could feel the brunt of his own pain, and it hurt, and he couldn’t always control how the agony in his chest showed itself to the world.

               Creators only knew what the poor servant Josephine now had waking him up every morning thought of him. The poor girl didn’t deserve his temper, not when she was just doing her job. She brought him breakfast every morning, and she’d make sure that he ate every bite instead of just picking it apart. The first hour of his day was spent trying to swallow while that young woman busied herself about his room, tidying things that didn’t need tidying and talking to fill the silence.

               Some days, she managed to get him engaged in mild conversation.

               But most days, it was all he could to just make it through his conscious hours, one hour at a time, dictated by Josephine and the strict agenda she now mandated as an effort to keep him from spiraling out of control.

               It had been a bad day for the last four days and he was so exhausted.

               He was so tired and now they all knew that it wasn’t something that could be touched by a night’s ration of sleeping draught anymore.

               Some of them, he knew, felt personally responsible, like Cassandra. And Dorian.

               Others knew that it was just the way Aether was.

               He wanted to take care of other people’s problems so much that he’d ignore his own, bottle them up and push them down until the pressure got to be too much, and then it would all go off like a bottle of champagne.

               He felt listless and bored, antsy from having so many responsibilities snatched away from him. Some things were still the same, Josephine giving him letters to respond to as well as more detailed information so he could make an informed decision, making sure he made it to meals, and other such things of course, but the visiting dignitaries were farer and fewer than they ever had been.

               Josephine’s doing, no doubt.

               She was doing so much for him and it bothered him that he couldn’t take some of it off her hands again.

               She wouldn’t let him.

               He needed to rest, and relax, and get well again.

               A month was evidently not long enough for him to take back the bulk of his duties.

               It had barely been long enough to put on just a fraction of the weight he had lost, and his appetite was still nonexistent.

               He just didn’t feel hungry.

               He hadn’t for a long time.

               Now, he had to eat because he had to, and the cook would glower at him if his plate came back with anything more than scrapes of sauce left on it, even if it made him feel sick to his stomach.

               He could have fought back about it, say the truth that eating so much actually did feel sick to his stomach, but what would be the look on the cook’s face if he said that?

               So he ate it all even if he was miserable.

               The only shallow comforts he had any more was when people didn’t walk on eggshells around him. That and the garden.

               It had grown so much since they first came to Skyhold.

               Luxurious and beautiful.

               It was his pride.

               His pride was in the earth that he turned with his bare hands, warm and healing and everything he needed. Lush and green and full of colors and smells and sunlight.

               For now though, he knelt in the soft grass in front of the small statue that had been carved just for him, a gift from one of the Dalish clans that he had given one of his books to, written from his travels and questions to the Well of Sorrows that answered so many mysteries.

               It was a statue of Mythal, standing as tall as he was, carved from the remains of a tree struck by lightning.

               Some pilgrims called it blasphemy to have it, but it was a reminder to them that their Inquisitor was Dalish, an elf and proud of where he came from. The Andrastians had their own place of worship in Skyhold, so why couldn’t he?

               Here was where his little bit of peace came from, sky above and the earth beneath his feet.

               A little bit of comfort so far away from the clan that had adopted him as their own when he found no comfort in being alone any more.

               And the clan that brought him into the world, equally distant from him.

               He missed Nevarra too.

               He missed the orchards that would lay thick with black cherries that his clan would harvest for the season, paid so they could prepare for the winter.

               He missed the sweet smell of the grasses that grew.

               And the rich colors the autumn festivals were famous for.

               Colors like the ones Vergil liked to see him wear.

               The thought came so suddenly that it almost made him choke.

               Vergil.

               This happened every so often, a random thought would somehow manage to tie itself to a memory of the Hero, Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, an elven mage of the Chantry’s broken Circle, and a man who was once his friend.

               And his almost-lover.

               If they ever could have been considered that.

               He had been the closest Aether had ever allowed himself to be to love, for so many years. The closest but they never could be that.

               Vergil would have never allowed it.

               And Aether himself had made sure it would never happen by the accusations he thoughtlessly made, too exhausted and frustrated and pinched with wanting the world off of his back for just a moment over his decisions that he had thrown it all in the face of someone who actually cared and…

               And now he was gone.

               Six months absent now.

               Living his life well enough without him.

               Vergil had always been accomplished, always strived to do more, to know more, to be more than what society demanded he be for both an elf and a mage, and he was. He was so much more than anyone could have ever imagined he would have been. He had made this place for himself for the world.

               And Aether felt like he had cheated.

               Herald of Andraste, claimed so entirely by the fluke of being where he should not have been but at the right time. Divine Justinia had saved him in the Fade from the Fear demon’s minions at the sacrifice of her own life, but at what cost? An elf with no real formal education on being a leader, only a healer, was suddenly forced to lead so many people, to be a figure of light and hope, to close a massive rift in the sky with demons pouring out and to stop one of the ancient magisters who was claimed to be at fault for the existence of Dark Spawn entirely.

               Aether didn’t deserve the position of Inquisitor, unlike Vergil who deserved every bit of what he had fought to become, unlike Ameridan who had been a famed dragon hunter and demon slayer long before the Emperor asked him to take up the position.

               What had Aether been doing all those years before he was forced to take up the mantle of Inquisitor?

               He had been just a humble healer who had been running away from the thought of being taught by his own neglectful stepfather, to be groomed to take over the position of leading the clan once he himself became Keeper.

               He had been running away from the thought of being a leader for so much longer than he had ever realized.

               And now it was obvious why.

               He just couldn’t handle the responsibility without it eating away at his very soul.

               Ameridan had been right.

               He should have taken moments of happiness where he found them, because the world would inevitably find ways to take the rest.

               And now all that he had was the shallow comfort that he had planted and grown himself in that little garden in the place where the sky was held.

               But even he could not stay there all day.

               Not when he was gently disturbed by someone clearing their throat to get his attention.

               Mournfully, he took a breath and then opened his eyes to look up.

               It was one of the kitchen scullery maids, an elvish woman the same age as Suledin but without the same spitfire.

               “My lord, the cook wants to know your thoughts on something,” she said meekly.

               He wondered if she wanted him to come look at the list of things she could make again. She was always making adjustments to that, but as he moved to rise to his feet, Aether paused when the maid offered him something, wrapped in a handkerchief.

               Relaxing his posture, he sat back on the ground and slowly unwrapped the fabric from the item, and curiously, he tilted his head as he looked down at it.

               A… brownie?

               He remembered them from the Orlesian parties he had been made to attend. Josephine seemed to enjoy them quite a bit, although Leliana was more partial to the frilly cakes, and in his confusion, he looked back up to the maid.

               “Will you try it and tell me what you think so I can let the cook know?” she gently asked.

               Oh.

               Hesitantly, he looked back down at the pastry and a breath huffed in his chest.

               He didn’t feel hungry, but then again, he never really did any more.

               It wasn’t a large piece though, so taking just one bite couldn’t hurt any.

               The brownie crumbled slightly under his light grip, pieces of it flecking the dark colored square of cloth and he tucked his chin as he took a small nibble from the corner, curious at first.

               It tasted like chocolate, rich and sweet, but not overpowering. But there was something else that he tasted as well, and with a more intense interest, he took a bigger bite.

               The first chew was all it took to cause flavor to pop into existence and race over his tongue, so familiar and comforting that nostalgia swept over him in small waves, eyes closing as he remembered a time and place that felt so long ago.

               Small bites became larger, mingling the taste of Orlesian chocolate and black cherries of norther Nevarra filled his mouth, and he recalled the laughter of his brother the last day of the harvest, and the thankful smile of the brothel owner as she slipped one last thank you gift into his pack before he fled across the Frostback mountains to escape the Templars that had been drawing increasingly too close for comfort.

               A child of the Alerion clan, a fussy archer.

               The Cardinal of Orlais, a humble healer.

               That was who he had been before he had ever really known what sort of chaos the world could face.

               Before then, his world had been without threat of Darkspawn or Archdemons or Ancient Magisters or Fade Rifts or Deep Roads or Titans or Avvar gods or so many other things that made him want to curl in on himself with fear.

               Aether had not realized he had devoured the entire brownie until he found that there was none left and he heard the soft voice call his attention.

               “Sir?”

               He sniffed as he looked up, eyes glassy with nostalgia and he smiled at the scullery maid, and he asked something he had not wanted to ask for a long time.

               “Can I have another?”

----------------------------

               Aether knew that the brownies were a turning point in his progress, quickly becoming a nightly reward taken with his requisition of sleeping draught on his good days and a comfort food that he would steal from the kitchen on days that were not. The fact that he was now willing to eat something was at least a sign of change to the Inquisition.

               But three weeks showed limited results, and the bad days continued to severely outnumber the good.

               Josephine’s latest visiting dignitary was not improving his progress either as he hid out on the balcony above the main hall, a plate of roasted cherry brownies at his side that he slowly chewed, soaking in the sun and staving off his headache from the noble and his awful wife.

               The man was Orlesian, obnoxious and loud and liked to drink so much.

               And the noble’s shrew of a wife!

               The woman complained about everything, and even had the audacity to demand that the statue of Mythal be taken out of the garden during their visit.

               The gall!

               Josephine was almost pleased when Aether made a point to have more Dalish hangings put up, just to prove his point that Skyhold was his home, not theirs, and he refused to be shamed for his culture. Thankfully, it would not be too many days before they left.

               It could not come fast enough.

               Stretching out on his back on the cool stone, he blindly reached for another brownie and frowned when he felt the empty plate.

               So he had eaten the last one already.

               And the Inquisitor sighed, rolling onto his side and peering between the railings of the balcony.

               Beyond them, the rest of his domain spread out, peaceful and calm providing one politely ignored the dog that Aether hoped someone would stick in a barrel and forget about, awful as that thought was in the afterthought, but temporarily pleasing none the less.

               And then he saw one of the guards hurry through the front gate of the fortress.

               The guard was followed after by an all too familiar figure in all too familiar armor.

               And Aether’s heart rose into his throat.

               It couldn’t be.

               But no, after twelve years of familiarity, there was no mistaking it for anyone else.

               That was Vergil.

               But what was he doing here?

               Why?

               He never came without one of them writing to the oth-

               Oh.

               Oh.

               Aether couldn’t bolt down from the balcony fast enough to storm into Josephine’s office, throwing open the door with such force that it bounced off the wall behind it and nearly hit him in the rebound, startling the Ambassador from her paperwork.

               “You wrote him?!” Aether demanded, his voice cracking slightly in his panic.

               It took a moment for Josephine to gather her thoughts and with only a few words, expressing that they had all agreed that getting in touch with the Warden-Commander was the next best course of action that they could take. He was, after all, Aether’s long time friend.

               The anxiety in Aether’s chest only rose and he shook his head.

               No.

               Contacting Vergil was not the next best course of action.

               Aether had been the one to fuck up.

               Aether had been the one to accuse and insult the man.

               He should have been the one to write a letter to the Hero of Ferelden, to send a note of apology, to own up to his mistakes and admit that he had been in the wrong and that Vergil had been right and it should have been him, not her, to write to him.

               Creators only knew how many drafts he had attempted to create before he had just thrown them into the fire.

               He couldn’t face Vergil.

               Not right now.

               But it seemed that was not his choice when he threw the office door back open in the effort to flee into the basement, to hide in the forgotten library, only to come face to face with the chilling familiar stare of amber brown eyes, worn armor baring the marks and scents of a recent fight.

               And Vergil’s cool expression only informed Aether of one thing.

               He wasn’t going anywhere.

               Not before they talked.

               Well shit.

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