[ there are too many maybes for dante to hope, but he does regardless, he sits and waits for memories to filter in so the weight can lift from his chest and he can finally breathe again. he'll need a drink after this one, he thinks, something strong enough to quell the demon in his blood that demands violence, that demands blood, that demands─
he huffs out a laugh, shoulders raising in a half-hearted shrug. honest, it wasn't a serious suggestion. ]
Right, right, please forgive me. [ dante continues to clean his hands with the shirt, seemingly unbothered by the fact the shirt was supposedly expensive. well, it isn't anymore, fabric is fabric in the end of the day, better he ruins this thing further than get blood all over vergil's tea towels. ]
Might have to burn it. [ he comments offhandedly. ] Unless you want someone rooting through your trash looking for some demonic blood. That shit can be potent, even half demon blood.
[ its fine probably, dante's been here long enough to know that vergil keeps a fair stock of wine in the kitchen And while it probably isn't the wilder twin's drink of choice, it sure can do the trick in numbing the brain, given that it's the good expensive wine. Vergil wont miss a bottle being gone. probably. right? ]
I'll overlook it. [ he's going to also just. pretend he's not watching dante wash his hands with a 130$ shirt, it's fine, it's just a shirt, it's a good sacrifice to pay in regards to not having to explain to the police why he'd stabbed his twin brother in his kitchen.
....his twin brother from a different dimension, no less. Ah, but now there's his brain stalling again as he rounds his head to look at dante--having started to busy himself at the sink, washing blood out from the crevices in his fingers. ]
Please tell me that is a joke. Your tone does not change when you are being serious and when you are laying it on thick. Do you think something ... unsightly will go digging about in the trash for something soaked in your blood.
[ dante lifts his head to look over at vergil, expression almost deadly serious at the question. honestly? he'd loved to be lying because it is definitely something that dante would do but in this? nope, there is no lie. ]
If they figured out that you've got a half-demon under your roof? Probably. [ he cleans off what he can without water, shifting his weight and moving over to the sink. ] Blood is a component in a lot of magic-based things, the more potent the blood the stronger whatever you're trying to do can be. Demonic blood is pretty fucking potent, and the demons back home... [ his voice drifts off almost considering whether or not he should even say this. ] Let's just say in order to become King of the Underworld it involves growing a fruit made out of human blood. The more they ingest the stronger they are.
[ blue eyes glance over at vergil, searching his expression for any sort of recognition, a twitch in his face that tells dante another memory has slipped through the cracks. ]
For the record? I don't drink blood. [ just in case he was wondering. ] But being part human makes my blood exceptionally potent. So yeah, if someone figured it out I'm sure you might have someone digging through the trash for my blood soaked shirt.
[ a fruit made of human blood. he blinks, twice, at the story, and he's sure that he's read a story somewhere in his vast collection of books, even lifting his head up to look toward the livingroom, which has about six bookshelves in it--with a thoughtful look on his face. ]
There are many stories of blood as being power in old folklore, such as the Aztecs drinking blood to gain power and immortality, as well as Vampires needing it to...
[ ...there's a taste of iron in his mouth, as those catlike eyes go still, the roaring voice in his head screaming that
with this
he could obtain everything.
...that wasn't his voice. That wasn't HIS voice, and... ]
Did we. Fight something that ate a fruit like that? There's... many eyes, and a distorted scene of a house.
...
[ ...hm. he's staring down at the shirt, now, with a look of INTENSE dislike for the idea that someone could start stalking the house if they found out that demon blood could come out of the garbage at any time. any time!!! ]
dante all but stills, eyes widening, he shifts closer and takes vergil by the shoulders as though the motion itself would be enough to stop the memory from bleeding through. there is no gentle way to tell him about that; the fruit, urizen, about v, or any of that. one question would lead into the another, into mallet island, into temen-ni-gru, into that fateful night where their mother died, into where was their father why wasn't he there why didn't he stop it. but he can't stop the memories, no matter how hard he might try, they'll keep coming and dante made the resolve not to lie to him that same night vergil asked him to stay. ]
Not exactly. [ the shirt is forgotten, dropped to the floor between them. ] It's more complicated than that.
[ at least this time when he's grabbed, he doesn't have an adverse reaction to it. and hey, dante grabbing him by the shoulders actually DOES shake him out from remembering anything else? congratulations? you probably just ripped him out of something he wasn't ready to see, dante. ]
...Are you alright. [ his eyebrows furrow as his head tilts a little--confusion clouding his eyes for the moment as the man holds him as if he's going to slip through his fingers again.
a hand coming up to rest on dante's arm, as if to anchor the man down from wherever he's going? ]
it doesn't occur to him now that look on his face is that of panic, of wide-eyed fear that vergil was about to remember something he shouldn't. that something will come and shatter what little good they have been them. maybe he is terrified of it? of there being some sort of memory that will cause vergil to distance himself from him, that will throw wide the rift between them once more. ]
Yeah, [ dante doesn't sound convinced and he doesn't let go not until vergil's hand comes up to rest of his arm, the weight enough to snap him from the unending onslaught of what if. he breathes out, letting go of the other man's shoulders as he forces himself to take a step back. ] Sorry.
[ he runs a hand through his hair. ]
I won't lie to you, thought you were about to remember something rough for a second there.
[ it's panic. maybe the worst thing about sharing a face with someone is that when you see an expression on it, you recognise it--as it's a look you've seen in a mirror before, it pulls muscles in the face that you recognise as everything hits you like a freight train.
The hand on the others' arm was meant as a reassurance, and maybe it was--in any case, Dante was moving back within a moment, so perhaps his momentary concern hadn't been needed.
...he blinks, though. Those words... odd. ]
We both know that once I've started to remember things, there isn't exactly any stopping it. August, and others with my. ...Condition. Have mentioned such. [ just a reminder. even if dante DID shake him out of that odd memory that was as if he was looking out of two sets of eyes at once. ]
...
Trying to protect me from things you don't want me to remember? You're always so on my case, I never would have thought.
[ he moves back because he doesn't want to crowd vergil's space, he moves back because he can still feel the blade in his ribs, because he isn't sure what to do with the enormity of what sits in his chest. he moves back and regrets doing so almost immediately, the place vergil's hand had rested almost burning from the contact. ]
I know. [ there is nothing to stop it, any of it, and that is what worries him. ]
It's not that I don't want you to remember, [ it would help if he did, if dante didn't have to dance around subjects he isn't sure vergil is ready for yet. it would help if they could proper talk without having to be careful what he says. ] There's just... some things I don't know if you're ready for yet. Not sure you'll ever be ready for them.
[ his gaze turns to the discarded shirt just for something else to look at, collecting it off the floor. ]
We've been through a lot, you and I, and none of it is pretty. If you start at the end I'll have to walk you through the whole thing.
As someone who is a ... scholar in terms of literature and long-reads, starting at the end and working backwards is an easy way to misinterpret the cause of what may have led to the effect in the end. I can understand at least that much.
[ he can't get the tinge of iron out of his mouth. ]
I'd like to. Learn from the beginning. The actual beginning, not just my memories, but what you've experienced is likely important subtext as well. ...Two halves of a whole, so to speak. [ twins, and all. and also... ]
I cannot get it out of my head that I was likely someone terrible, in this past life of mine. But the fact that you're so keen on making an effort here. Despite that.
I'll respect your want to do this carefully. [ both because dante looks like he's about to break every time vergil remembers something dangerous. and because his heart is still human, right now. he's not sure what kind of damages knowing everything too fast will cause to his mental health? hoo boy. what if he becomes that person again? ]
You weren't terrible... [ by any other person's reckoning vergil was, in fact, a terrible person. the number of people who died due to his actions cannot be underestimated and dante knows that, he knows keenly the human cost of temen-ni-gru, of the qliphoth, but still─ fuck, he can't be so desperate to have his brother back that he is trying to rationalize all that happened to himself? dante exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. ] It's complicated.
[ he feels like he has been saying that a lot recently. ]
Okay, yeah, I'll go take a shower and, [ he waves the bloodied shirt about a little. ] Go deal with this.
[ he needs some air anyway, maybe a drink or fuck... maybe even a smoke. ]
[ maybe he allows dante's reassurances because he wants them to be true. maybe he wants to believe that the only blood on his hands were that of demons, like the angel-winged beast he remembers, spitting at him, calling him a son of sparda with its eyes torn out. his memories are far from complete--all of them split-off images that are blurry or oddly split, more words echoing in his ears than things he can actually fully see--it's always so dark, man. ]
I'll trust in your words. If only because I feel I owe you something after. That. [ gestures at where there's. not even a scar yet, what the fuck dante.
he's gonna turn back over to the counter where he HAD been cutting gnocchi before.
and dont worry dante
by the time he comes out to the dinner table, where stuffed veal with gnocchi is served, there's two bottles of the good wine on the table, so he'll at least get his drink in, if nothing else. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
he huffs out a laugh, shoulders raising in a half-hearted shrug. honest, it wasn't a serious suggestion. ]
Right, right, please forgive me. [ dante continues to clean his hands with the shirt, seemingly unbothered by the fact the shirt was supposedly expensive. well, it isn't anymore, fabric is fabric in the end of the day, better he ruins this thing further than get blood all over vergil's tea towels. ]
Might have to burn it. [ he comments offhandedly. ] Unless you want someone rooting through your trash looking for some demonic blood. That shit can be potent, even half demon blood.
no subject
And while it probably isn't the wilder twin's drink of choice, it sure can do the trick in numbing the brain, given that it's the good expensive wine. Vergil wont miss a bottle being gone. probably. right? ]
I'll overlook it. [ he's going to also just. pretend he's not watching dante wash his hands with a 130$ shirt, it's fine, it's just a shirt, it's a good sacrifice to pay in regards to not having to explain to the police why he'd stabbed his twin brother in his kitchen.
....his twin brother from a different dimension, no less. Ah, but now there's his brain stalling again as he rounds his head to look at dante--having started to busy himself at the sink, washing blood out from the crevices in his fingers. ]
Please tell me that is a joke. Your tone does not change when you are being serious and when you are laying it on thick.
Do you think something ... unsightly will go digging about in the trash for something soaked in your blood.
[ why. ]
no subject
If they figured out that you've got a half-demon under your roof? Probably. [ he cleans off what he can without water, shifting his weight and moving over to the sink. ] Blood is a component in a lot of magic-based things, the more potent the blood the stronger whatever you're trying to do can be. Demonic blood is pretty fucking potent, and the demons back home... [ his voice drifts off almost considering whether or not he should even say this. ] Let's just say in order to become King of the Underworld it involves growing a fruit made out of human blood. The more they ingest the stronger they are.
[ blue eyes glance over at vergil, searching his expression for any sort of recognition, a twitch in his face that tells dante another memory has slipped through the cracks. ]
For the record? I don't drink blood. [ just in case he was wondering. ] But being part human makes my blood exceptionally potent. So yeah, if someone figured it out I'm sure you might have someone digging through the trash for my blood soaked shirt.
no subject
human blood.
he blinks, twice, at the story, and he's sure that he's read a story somewhere in his vast collection of books, even lifting his head up to look toward the livingroom, which has about six bookshelves in it--with a thoughtful look on his face. ]
There are many stories of blood as being power in old folklore, such as the Aztecs drinking blood to gain power and immortality, as well as Vampires needing it to...
[ ...there's a taste of iron in his mouth, as those catlike eyes go still, the roaring voice in his head screaming that
with this
he could obtain everything.
...that wasn't his voice. That wasn't HIS voice, and... ]
Did we. Fight something that ate a fruit like that? There's... many eyes, and a distorted scene of a house.
...
[ ...hm.
he's staring down at the shirt, now, with a look of INTENSE dislike for the idea that someone could start stalking the house if they found out that demon blood could come out of the garbage at any time. any time!!! ]
Perhaps we should burn this.
no subject
dante all but stills, eyes widening, he shifts closer and takes vergil by the shoulders as though the motion itself would be enough to stop the memory from bleeding through. there is no gentle way to tell him about that; the fruit, urizen, about v, or any of that. one question would lead into the another, into mallet island, into temen-ni-gru, into that fateful night where their mother died, into where was their father why wasn't he there why didn't he stop it. but he can't stop the memories, no matter how hard he might try, they'll keep coming and dante made the resolve not to lie to him that same night vergil asked him to stay. ]
Not exactly. [ the shirt is forgotten, dropped to the floor between them. ] It's more complicated than that.
no subject
...Are you alright. [ his eyebrows furrow as his head tilts a little--confusion clouding his eyes for the moment as the man holds him as if he's going to slip through his fingers again.
a hand coming up to rest on dante's arm, as if to anchor the man down from wherever he's going? ]
The memory's faded, in any case.
no subject
it doesn't occur to him now that look on his face is that of panic, of wide-eyed fear that vergil was about to remember something he shouldn't. that something will come and shatter what little good they have been them. maybe he is terrified of it? of there being some sort of memory that will cause vergil to distance himself from him, that will throw wide the rift between them once more. ]
Yeah, [ dante doesn't sound convinced and he doesn't let go not until vergil's hand comes up to rest of his arm, the weight enough to snap him from the unending onslaught of what if. he breathes out, letting go of the other man's shoulders as he forces himself to take a step back. ] Sorry.
[ he runs a hand through his hair. ]
I won't lie to you, thought you were about to remember something rough for a second there.
no subject
The hand on the others' arm was meant as a reassurance, and maybe it was--in any case, Dante was moving back within a moment, so perhaps his momentary concern hadn't been needed.
...he blinks, though. Those words... odd. ]
We both know that once I've started to remember things, there isn't exactly any stopping it. August, and others with my. ...Condition. Have mentioned such.
[ just a reminder. even if dante DID shake him out of that odd memory that was as if he was looking out of two sets of eyes at once. ]
...
Trying to protect me from things you don't want me to remember?
You're always so on my case, I never would have thought.
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I know. [ there is nothing to stop it, any of it, and that is what worries him. ]
It's not that I don't want you to remember, [ it would help if he did, if dante didn't have to dance around subjects he isn't sure vergil is ready for yet. it would help if they could proper talk without having to be careful what he says. ] There's just... some things I don't know if you're ready for yet. Not sure you'll ever be ready for them.
[ his gaze turns to the discarded shirt just for something else to look at, collecting it off the floor. ]
We've been through a lot, you and I, and none of it is pretty. If you start at the end I'll have to walk you through the whole thing.
no subject
[ he can't get the tinge of iron out of his mouth. ]
I'd like to. Learn from the beginning. The actual beginning, not just my memories, but what you've experienced is likely important subtext as well. ...Two halves of a whole, so to speak. [ twins, and all. and also... ]
I cannot get it out of my head that I was likely someone terrible, in this past life of mine.
But the fact that you're so keen on making an effort here. Despite that.
I'll respect your want to do this carefully. [ both because dante looks like he's about to break every time vergil remembers something dangerous.
and because his heart is still human, right now. he's not sure what kind of damages knowing everything too fast will cause to his mental health? hoo boy. what if he becomes that person again? ]
I should finish making dinner.
no subject
[ he feels like he has been saying that a lot recently. ]
Okay, yeah, I'll go take a shower and, [ he waves the bloodied shirt about a little. ] Go deal with this.
[ he needs some air anyway, maybe a drink or fuck... maybe even a smoke. ]
no subject
maybe he wants to believe that the only blood on his hands were that of demons, like the angel-winged beast he remembers, spitting at him, calling him a son of sparda with its eyes torn out. his memories are far from complete--all of them split-off images that are blurry or oddly split, more words echoing in his ears than things he can actually fully see--it's always so dark, man. ]
I'll trust in your words.
If only because I feel I owe you something after.
That. [ gestures at where there's. not even a scar yet, what the fuck dante.
he's gonna turn back over to the counter where he HAD been cutting gnocchi before.
and dont worry dante
by the time he comes out to the dinner table, where stuffed veal with gnocchi is served, there's two bottles of the good wine on the table, so he'll at least get his drink in, if nothing else. ]