it's just the rain that wasn't brave enough to fall (closed + open)

[antimetabole]

WHO: Vergil + others
WHEN: Between missions 12 & 13
WHERE: Various locations
WHAT: Some emotional talks. Some yeeting of children. It's a little bit of everything.
NOTES\WARNINGS: No open prompts this go around I LIED one open prompt as of yet, but if you are wanting something particular, feel free to slap down a starter or request one. I will match prose vs. brackets because it doesn't matter to me. There will be discussions pertaining to complex family dynamics (particularly between siblings) that may also further include topics such as loss/death of parents and/or siblings, assumed fratricide (of the accidental variety), and grief pertaining to aforementioned losses. Warnings will be in headers, but will update this as able to/needed!

↪ kyoko
↪ mizu
↪ dante
↪ open

Comments

[catscratching]

A real charmer, this one.

"I never said you were, Vergil." She isn't deluded enough to think a man she barely knows and who she is sure doesn't particularly care for her would do something like that for her. Whatever his reasons are, they're his own, and she's not keen to press for the moment. Still, the thanks is genuine all the same. She wouldn't have blamed him if he'd decided to do the opposite or outright told her to stop bothering him. It's a small victory, one she'll gladly take.

As things are, though, she imagines her welcome has more than run her course. If Dante or even Nero were around, she'd stick around. But as it is...

She swings her bag around her front, unzipping the main compartment. It's easy to find whatever it is she's looking for, and she pulls it out before taking a step towards him. It's immediately obvious what it is as soon as she stretches her arm out, offering the book to him.

It's a copy of Songs of Innocence and of Experience. Leatherbound with a satin ribbon bookmark, the cover embossed with the title.

"This is for you."

[antimetabole]

Vergil pays her little further mind until Selina approaches him. Only then does he look up from his scrubbing. As she extends the book out to him, Vergil looks down at it. It only appears briefly in Vergil's eyes, but more than the look of recognition at the title, there is a spark of something else in Vergil's gaze. Something that comes dangerously close to joy or even excitement. Something that Selina could perhaps have envisioned (with a bit of stretching her imagination perhaps) when they were speaking over the network about books, when some of those sharp edges retracted and smoothed down to something softer, more accessible. Vergil's quick to tamp down it, however. By the time his gaze reaches hers again, Vergil is regarding her warily.

"Why?"

The question is sharp in its delivery, more demand than accusation, even as that is not entirely Vergil's intention. He makes no attempt to soften it though. He mistrusts gifts from those that are not his family, and assumes there to be some invisible string attached to it.

[catscratching]

Why?

The question is met with an arched brow, but she doesn't seem at all bothered or concerned to have it turned at her regardless of the tone. Selina expected it, honestly. They're not friends, and the conversations they've had haven't been particularly deep or anything of that sort. But back home it had felt difficult to find others who could appreciate art, who could talk to her about enjoying different aspects of it without turning it into a competition of who could have the most rare piece in their collection. Here, it feels difficult to find people who can simply appreciate it. So maybe it's selfish to want to share something like this with someone who isn't from her own home.

"Why not?"

Her response is easy, calm. It isn't meant to be a joke or mock him by any means, and she realizes she should elaborate before he takes it as such.

"It won't win you millions at an auction, but it's still a nice read. It'd be a shame for it to sit on the shelf instead of having someone enjoy it." She keeps her arm extended, book still on offer. "Consider it a housewarming gift."

[antimetabole]

Nothing about her words or body language gives Vergil any reason to doubt Selina's explanation—and he is not actually looking for a sign to doubt her when nothing appears—but Vergil remains where is, his scrutinous look unyielding. Selina calls it a housewarming gift, unaware of the complexities that come coupled with the concept of home, of this place in particular, and why both those things have driven him to clean in a futile effort to not feel like he is an intruder within this space that so thoroughly belongs to his brother. Vergil's gaze flicks from her face down to the book in her hand, and he's still for a moment longer before slowly straightening back out. There's a slight twitch of his hand from an aborted attempt to reach out and take it. On the one hand, she might see that as him testing to see if she will snatch it back should he make a move for it, pull that invisible string attached to it, or otherwise make a mockery of it. Especially when he seems to glance at her for a brief moment immediately after failing to take the book. But the reality is that Vergil is working up the nerve to take it under that conceit, under the guise of a housewarming gift.

When Vergil takes the book, it's gentle. He avoids touching her hand whatsoever in the exchange. When he pulls it free from her grasp, he only puts as much effort as needed for it to slip from her hand. There is no force, no snatching it away. Vergil's eyes remain trained upon it as he draws the book near, looking at its cover for a moment. Vergil glances at her before looking anywhere but at her or the book in his hand.

"Thank you."

It's a stiff expression of gratitude. However, the slight color in his face not only likely makes the paternal connection between Vergil and Nero obvious, but makes it plain that he is, in fact, being sincere. Awkward and insecure even as he keeps a tight control on his facial expression to as unreadable as he can manage, but sincere.

[catscratching]

For her part, Selina is quiet and patient. There's nothing in her expression or posture to suggest she's concerned or bothered by how long it takes him to go through whatever it is in his head. And when he finally takes the book, she relinquishes it without any resistance. Only offers a soft, genuine smile.

"You're welcome," she replies easily, deciding against calling attention to the stiffness of his reply or the color on his cheeks. She could say something, tease him about it, but she's keenly aware of the delicate line she needs to walk to go from being annoying and being intolerable. And she thinks, in that moment, she finally does see some resemblance between Vergil and Nero. It's cute, she decides. And it feels like some small victory to get this sort of reaction out of him instead of his ire or annoyance.

"Unless you want some help, I'll be on my way."

She won't pretend to be some sweet, kind soul who will offer her services out of the kindness of her heart. If Vergil were some troubled young orphan or the poor unfortunate victim of circumstances in need of a helping hand, it'd be different. But as it is, Vergil seems more than capable of handling this on his own.

[antimetabole]

He's not relieved in this particular moment that she does not take the opportunity to tease him, but it will strike Vergil later that Selina demonstrated an iota of mercy in allowing for his awkward acceptance of the book. For now, he merely glances at her once when she first speaks, and then again when she announces her impending departure. He sets the book down on a part of the table he's already cleaned and he knows with certainty has already dried.

"If I wanted someone to be underfoot, I would have asked Dante to tend to his mess."

i think we're good to wrap?

[catscratching]

It's an honest answer, and one she accepts without questioning. Though acknowledgement that this is Dante's mess does make her lips spread into a smile that might be fond. Dante's certainly different than Bruce, and there's something oddly comforting in that. A different sort of challenge than the one she's faced for all these years.

She takes a moment to check her bag, making sure it's sealed up properly again before slipping the straps easily across her shoulders to let the weight of it hang on her bck.

"Have fun."

She heads for the entrance this time, lifting her hand to wiggle her fingers in good bye once she reaches the door. And then with one final glance, another smile, she steps out, closing the door softly behind her.