[ for dante things weren't as odd - well kinda. he's still trying to get used to the concept of vergil back in his life, let alone in a state such as this. it's an adjustment, one that has dante constantly checking out of the corner of his eye that vergil is still there, still present, still alive. it's nice, underlying anxiety aside, just having him nearby existing in the same space as dante. he doesn't mention it, of course, holds that bit of information close to his chest as the days press on.
they establish something of a rhythm, a steady sort of dance around the memories slowly filtering through vergil's mind. he asks questions dante happily answere while avoiding the ever growing elephant in the room. dante, for his part, is happy to continue avoiding the subject even with it evee looming above them. either way the days pass without issue, comfortably - but such things never last with the sons of sparda.
dante is glad for the end of the day when it comes, turning the sign to closed with a bit of a pep in his step as he finishes up the last few things needed. despite his looks he is actually competent at the more paperwork side of things, though he can't help but scowl at it all as though it had the audacity to simply exist. he knew there was a reason he had morrison deal with all of that. but he gets it done to a level vergil should be happy with before all but jogging his way up the stairs and into the apartment.
their apartment. well, vergil's apartment.
he follows the sound of music to the kitchen, hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants. it's funny watching his brother cook, funny because he never once thought vergil was capable of something so domestic, something so human. it's probably what makes him smile, what possesses him to stride across the kitchen floor as lazily as a cat, and what possesses him to ultimately slip behind his brother and rest his chin on vergil's shoulder. ]
no subject
they establish something of a rhythm, a steady sort of dance around the memories slowly filtering through vergil's mind. he asks questions dante happily answere while avoiding the ever growing elephant in the room. dante, for his part, is happy to continue avoiding the subject even with it evee looming above them. either way the days pass without issue, comfortably - but such things never last with the sons of sparda.
dante is glad for the end of the day when it comes, turning the sign to closed with a bit of a pep in his step as he finishes up the last few things needed. despite his looks he is actually competent at the more paperwork side of things, though he can't help but scowl at it all as though it had the audacity to simply exist. he knew there was a reason he had morrison deal with all of that. but he gets it done to a level
vergil should be happy with before all but jogging his way up the stairs and into the apartment.
their apartment. well, vergil's apartment.
he follows the sound of music to the kitchen, hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants. it's funny watching his brother cook, funny because he never once thought vergil was capable of something so domestic, something so human. it's probably what makes him smile, what possesses him to stride across the kitchen floor as lazily as a cat, and what possesses him to ultimately slip behind his brother and rest his chin on vergil's shoulder. ]
So, what you cooking?