[ a grumble and a shove are what dante had expected, in truth, dancing back a few steps as vergil glowers at him for invading his personal space unprompted. he should've known better, of course, with all the memories flicking in and out of the guy's head, he should've known that he'd be still on edge despite the decent few days they have had. he really should have known but, for some reason, it never once entered his head.
the downside of being so close is that he has very little time to react when vergil turns on him, blade in hand, and stabs it directly between his ribs. there is very little time for dante to attempt to dodge or reflect the knife as it sinks through flesh and muscle and he stumbles back a couple of steps with a pained noise. eyes wide, whites flashing black, blues turning bright red, as it takes everything in him not to summon his devil sword to his side and strike back.
wait...
the blow is a surprise, knocks the wind from his lungs, but he notices distantly watching blood drip to the tiled floor beneath him, that it doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would. one of the first things dante noticed upon arriving was that his limbs felt heavy, that the usual scrapes he has always walked off without much of care actually hurt. he had been stripped back to something a lot less demon and a lot more human, his regenerative abilities aside. it had been something of a humbling experience that, as he stood in nero's place late at night as pain blossomed from his sliced open hand. so his first thought upon registering the fact there is a knife in his chest (he thinks it got his lung) is that this should hurt like hell, but it doesn't─ it still hurts but not the mind-numbing pain a normal everyday person might be experiencing.
dante laughs, the sound more of a wheeze than actual laughter, hands reaching up to gently touch the blood-soaked shirt about the knife. ]
Ow... My ba─ [ whatever smartass comment he was going to make is immediately cut off by the look on vergil's face, the wide-eyed horror he has never once seen from his twin's face. oh, that's right, he doesn't know. the elephant in the room. ] Vergil, look at me. [ there is no way he's going to be able to do kindly, he thinks, might as well rip the bandaid right the fuck off. ] It's okay, it's okay.
[ his expression turns apologetic as he straightens up, one hand wrapping around the knife's hand, and pulls it back out, coughing as his flesh knits itself back together in a matter of seconds. ]
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the downside of being so close is that he has very little time to react when vergil turns on him, blade in hand, and stabs it directly between his ribs. there is very little time for dante to attempt to dodge or reflect the knife as it sinks through flesh and muscle and he stumbles back a couple of steps with a pained noise. eyes wide, whites flashing black, blues turning bright red, as it takes everything in him not to summon his devil sword to his side and strike back.
wait...
the blow is a surprise, knocks the wind from his lungs, but he notices distantly watching blood drip to the tiled floor beneath him, that it doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would. one of the first things dante noticed upon arriving was that his limbs felt heavy, that the usual scrapes he has always walked off without much of care actually hurt. he had been stripped back to something a lot less demon and a lot more human, his regenerative abilities aside. it had been something of a humbling experience that, as he stood in nero's place late at night as pain blossomed from his sliced open hand. so his first thought upon registering the fact there is a knife in his chest (he thinks it got his lung) is that this should hurt like hell, but it doesn't─ it still hurts but not the mind-numbing pain a normal everyday person might be experiencing.
dante laughs, the sound more of a wheeze than actual laughter, hands reaching up to gently touch the blood-soaked shirt about the knife. ]
Ow... My ba─ [ whatever smartass comment he was going to make is immediately cut off by the look on vergil's face, the wide-eyed horror he has never once seen from his twin's face. oh, that's right, he doesn't know. the elephant in the room. ] Vergil, look at me. [ there is no way he's going to be able to do kindly, he thinks, might as well rip the bandaid right the fuck off. ] It's okay, it's okay.
[ his expression turns apologetic as he straightens up, one hand wrapping around the knife's hand, and pulls it back out, coughing as his flesh knits itself back together in a matter of seconds. ]