[Vergil does not know where exactly it is that V has chosen to make his residence. For all he knows, if V remains in Folkmore, he is just as likely to still stranded somewhere in Wintermute as he is to still wander the realm in search of a place for himself. So, it is by courier that Vergil relies upon the familiar book making it to its intended recipient on the correct date. He was assured several times that the package would be hand-delivered to ensure its safety, and not just left out in the open for anyone to stumble upon it. When pressed about what would become of it should it be undeliverable, the spirit eventually relented from its business spiel of guaranteed deliveries and offered reassurances that it would be returned to Vergil unharmed.]
[Vergil does not go about making a particular fuss in the packaging for the book. It's a simple, brown wrapping paper with an equally unremarkable cord. He thought for a moment of including a tag—it is after all as close to a birthday as V can truly claim to have—but ultimately decided against it. Whether or not V draws any connection to the date does not matter, and he will likely assume the sender based on the neatness of its wrappings and the book itself. Let that be that.]
Fortunately for V, he made it to the train station and to the train itself. Exhausted, he rode the train for hours and hours, listening to those around him discuss the various stops. In time he exited at Elder Mother Station, wherein some generously pushy spirits insisted on giving him a flower crown, then on seeing him wear it. Without energy for much more, he stays in a small cottage near the station, one that spirits encourage him are meant for guests. It provides something for a few days at least, a few days more than V expected to live.
Because he lives. He's alive. He rouses from a nap, having worn himself out walking around Willow, and picks his head off Shadow who possesses most of the bed to energetic tap tap tapping at his door. Perhaps he's overstayed his welcome. With little enthusiasm at the prospect of finding somewhere else to sleep, a nice tree might do, V makes his way to the door. He opens it to see—
A raven spirit shockingly of Griffon's size, larger than he's ever imagined a raven to be. It holds out a tidy package expectantly. A delivery, it assures him. V accepts the parcel, what's clearly a book, and sees the spirit off. Said spirit makes sure he knows that it can deliver any letter or package that V wishes to any Star Child in Folkmore. Get in touch, and it will make sure everything gets delivered. A nod, but V returns to sit against Shadow's side.
He does nothing but hold the package for a long while, long enough that Griffon teases him about it. V lets the annoying words wash over him. It's the first time he's received a gift, and wrapped as it is, even if Vergil's told others he is here, it can only be from him. An olive branch. Something more that V lacks the words to articulate. Griffon threatens to bite the paper from the package, to bite V's fingers, to make sure V's still alive in there.
He unwraps the paper carefully, making sure not to tear it. He sets it aside, but from the first moments the familiar line of the V on the book's cover comes to view, V knows what it is. The book. The one he found in his childhood home, and the one he took his name from. He traces the two sharp lines. Familiar as it is, he's read many of the poems between its pages, but he reads again until he feels restless.
They live in Epiphany near the border of Willow. V sets out and rides, first, in a small vehicle pulled by a spirit to reach the edge of Epiphany. Then he wanders, unsure where to find his whole self. So it's on a street he sees the familiar coat, the white hair, the firm gait.
"Vergil," V says from where he walks. It's not loud, but the half-devil has good hearing.
At the sound of his name, Vergil looks over his shoulder before coming to an actual stop. He may not be like Dante who ignored V and plowed on ahead as though he heard nothing with how hellbent he was on reaching Urizen, but Vergil is not necessarily that much kinder. He merely turns slightly towards V to demonstrate his willingness to wait for him to catch back up, but he makes no efforts of assisting in closing the distance and remains planted where he stands. Vergil scrutinizes any unsteadiness in V's gait as he approaches. He's not surprised to see V still in as rough shape was Vergil found him in before, but he cannot pretend to understand how V tolerates it as he does.
"You left the mountains," he comments, more matter-of-fact than anything else. He doesn't necessarily look at V as an unwelcome presence, but neither does he view the other's company as a boon. It simply is what it is. "Should I take this to mean you've found some place to stay?"
Were it anyone else, that would be likely an unreasonable question to ask. But Vergil spent much of his years growing up on the streets and outside, and the majority of V's life was spent in a similar manner when he chose to remain behind in Red Grave City rather than following Nero back to Fortuna to regroup. It would no more surprise him to learn that V's found a comfortable bench in a park somewhere than to learn he's found a suitable roof over his head by now. If anything, the latter would be more of a surprise.
The pause is all V needs. He could not hope to catch up if Vergil carried on, but he continues steadily, all the more aware of the difficulty in doing so with that attention on him. Griffon or Shadow could carry him the rest of the way, but V manages with only the cane for support. He's already looked for Vergil, but he will not request his whole self's help when they're on such uncertain ground. When it will not kill him to avoid asking.
"The weather here is more amenable," V says, an agreement to Vergil's own suggestion the previous time they met. The cold makes everything take more effort, and V dresses the same as he did his entire life. He's not of a mind to be forced to pick up many more layers for the freezing temperatures. Stubborn perhaps, but that's his choice.
He's not certain where he will live long term. Epiphany and Willow each have advantages and disadvantages. He doesn't know enough to make that form of decision, but his body must rest somewhere each night. That's how days and nights work. "A guest cottage in Willow."
It distressed the local spirits to find V outside come morning. Perhaps those who stray farther into the region, away from the main hustle and bustle, get away with it, but he tired of telling off those concerned busybodies. The problem with sleeping in public is that the public feels entitled to be there and give their opinions noisily.
Vergil says little, but there's often more beneath what few words he chooses to use, and that is certainly the case here. He can only assume the decision to stop in Willow is at least partially motivated by a desire to be within decent proximity to the closest thing V has to family or friends. He will be less likely to be exhausted should he seek them out on any sort of regular basis than if he were to choose further away. But the region is also not a bad one when it comes to its climate, and it's not difficult to imagine V seeking out something a bit more pastoral after his experiences in Red Grave City. But it's clearly not a permanent decision by the use of the word "guest." A temporary shelter then. V may still content himself with exploring the other regions, weighing their pros and cons against one another, before settling in somewhere.
It seems a way in which they differ from one another. Or it could be that it's less a way in which they differ and more how their circumstances upon arrival did. When Vergil arrived, he was alone as far as people from his world was concerned. At the time, the apartment he selected seemed to be the most sensible. It afforded him privacy given that it was a studio apartment with neighbors a few doors down rather than directly beside him or across the hall, but the apartment itself was not as isolated as say Mizu's cabin. He had easy access to anything that he might need, which allowed him to maintain a bit tighter of a budget with his Lore until he could acquire the Yamato. There was really nothing further to consider than that.
...Well, perhaps not quite only that. Perhaps there was some part of Vergil that was waiting for at least Dante to follow him to Folkmore. The plan had never really been for Vergil and Dante to live together, but it was not difficult for him to picture Dante doing well within Epiphany rather than some of the other regions. So, they would at least have the opportunity to live close by to one another.
"So what brings you so far from your cottage?" he asks, looking at V. "I doubt our paths crossing again is some great coincidence. I assume you want something."
Not once having housing in his short existence, V doesn't exactly give Vergil much to go on as to what to expect him to do or where to stay. There's Vergil's experience, whatever that might be that V doesn't remember, whatever antecedes him. So much of their life was spent without a home. There's weight to Vergil's short reply, a making sense of V much as he had before. Why not, V is what does not fit neatly into Vergil's life, what should not exist in Vergil's life save as a memory.
If he could know things without having to ask for them, V would know how Vergil came to live with his brother and his son. He wants to know what happened there because his memories of Dante and Nero are not the sort to suggest so close a relationship and ability to get along as to live together. To matter to each other, yes. To build something together now that Vergil's learned from his wrongdoing with V's help, yes. To get to such a point as to live together? That is a truth he needs the story behind and one he does not expect to get.
Ever to the point. V's human frailty, his weakness even beyond that of most humans, gives him away and will continue to do so every time he goes more than a few steps beyond his door. There's nothing for that. Even had it been a coincidence, V's utterance of Vergil's name to grab his attention demonstrates that longing inside him. It is there in ways he cannot put to words.
The book weighs on him, heavier than it should be, for its delivery. Beyond the clothes on his back, which came with him to Folkmore of Thirteen's accord, the book of poetry, this exact book of poetry, is his sole possession. Everything the dragons gave him and he would trade it all in a heartbeat for this book of Blake's poetry. His paltry Lore provides for his daily bread, but he hasn't spared it for anything more. Vergil wants to get to business, but it is not business but feelings, heavy and strong, that weigh on him.
Why did you give it to me? V wants to ask. It means as much to Vergil as to him, and clearly Vergil had it. Vergil obtained it in this world, though it would not naturally be here. He had it, and he gave it away. To V.
"The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest," V says. He looks at Vergil closely. He wants to grasp the olive branches Vergil offers him like a life line, one after the other. Only once in hand, it is not clear what to do. He's left, feebly, with only, "I am not truly one. Not even two months, but you make me feel as though I could be."
It's his first gift, his and truly his alone. Griffon helping him fleece a man of his clothes is not the same.
"I thought you might like it back," he says matter-of-fact as he turns his gaze forward again. It's not a lie, but neither is it the whole truth.
Vergil entrusted the book to Nero before leaving for the Underworld to finish cleaning up the mess he made. He trusted the boy was smart enough to understand there was more to it for Vergil than just a collection of poems, but there was no time to clarify further until recently. That book had been the first thing Vergil truly reclaimed for himself, of his old life. At the time, as V, he hadn't known exactly the weight of it, but he does now with the benefit of hindsight. Nero understands it now, too. But where Vergil sees it as a beginning point in trying to find the pieces of himself that he lost over the years, Vergil assumes it is the beginning for V in how he came to be. The first thing he reached for without any understanding of why it mattered until more of his memories returned to him.
So, in a strange sense, the book is akin to Vergil's birthright to the Yamato. Restoring it to V's possession seemed the only choice in these circumstances.
"The alternative was to deny your existence," he says. "But I have come to understand the cost of that, and have no need to be taught lessons twice."
Yet again Vergil looks away from V as they converse. The urge to tilt Vergil's face back toward him rises, but V does not act on it. No doubt he is difficult to look at or to dwell upon, no matter that Vergil's made the first steps toward him twice over. The gift may not be the same as physically approaching V, but it acts much the same. It is enough that Vergil reaches out. It's enough that V isn't as alone as he thought he would be.
You're not alone, asshole. Indeed he's not. He ignores the distraction while he's with Vergil. It's a more awkward dance of a conversation even than his first meeting with Dante. He came to Devil May Cry as a customer, a comfortable position for Dante and a role for him. It's far less charted territory here.
Intriguing that possessing the book feels like denying V's existence. It is where he took his name from, so much as V can be considered a name. He wonders how long Vergil stared at it, unable to find himself at ease, until he decided to give it to V. Then he delivered it today of all days. Not personally, but that's why V came to find him. Something so significant felt wrong in an impersonal exchange with a spirit.
"I appreciate not seeing what Urizen could do to this fine land," V says, nor with facing a need to sacrifice his existence a second time to stop him. He came here to exist as himself, that desperate bid for life and a more selfish one this time than his original plan. Yet Vergil standing there before him is not him, even as they are the same man. Nor are the words especially sweet. A pragmatic choice more than an open hand. At least the way Vergil puts it.
V resists the urge to drag himself away. No matter if he is something unpleasant stuck under Vergil's boot, he is there and wants more of this day and this man. Wants but does not put that wanting plainly into words. "Since we're not denying my existence or the day, lets get something to eat."
Vergil hums a vague noise of agreement to the good that comes in not having Urizen here as well. V's ability to be here does prove the possibility of Urizen being able to follow suit. But despite the foolishness and incompetence that Thirteen has proven herself capable of from Vergil's perspective, Vergil would like to think that would not be a line she would cross. Vergil would not trust a creature driven so strongly by his desire for power as Urizen not to cause mayhem and destruction in this place. Even in the absence of a desire for conquest as Mundus possessed, Urizen would no doubt not hesitate to throw open every gate available to every world until he stands triumphant above all the rest.
At the suggestion of food, Vergil scoffs lightly with a roll of his eyes. Vergil doesn't believe for a second that V is here in an attempt to make use of Vergil's greater stock of Lore to see to an empty belly, but there is something a touch predictable about the move all the same. An opportunity not squandered, as it were. Vergil does not fault him for it though. The scoff is merely because Vergil believes he possessed a little more subtlety when attempting to take advantage of such an opportunity in the past. Vergil is not a particularly gifted liar, but V leaves much to be desired in that department.
"Very well," he says, glancing over at V. "What do you desire to eat?"
That is the question so often asked of Vergil that he's mildly curious if V has a better sense of an answer than Vergil is ever able to offer Nero or Dante.
Frequent rain in Epiphany is nothing particularly new to Vergil after over a year living there, but the amount and frequency of downpours is becoming increasingly inconvenient, and especially so when it is in regions that typically do not see such similar amounts of rainfall. Even for someone like Vergil who is generally content with limited ventures out of the home, it's difficult to not have plans altered by the heavens suddenly opening up with little to no warning. As was the case in this instance.
Vergil had been on his way home from a walk through Willow—just a simple one with no particular reason or direction beyond just getting out of the house for a little while—when the sky suddenly darkened. The light rainfall that preceded the torrential downpour was minuscule, offering Vergil little time to (literally) duck into one of the little burrows for temporary shelter. Frankly, he cares little if the home is occupied or not. He has no desire to be soaked any further than he already is, and will deal with the potential consequence of barging in on a stranger unannounced.
It would seem, at first, that the one he's chosen is unoccupied. Once the door is closed and the sound of the storm is muffled beyond the door, the burrow is more or less silent (sans the sound of him lightly dripping in the entryway, anyways). And not only is it silent, but it would appear to be dark based upon an initial glance as his eyes adjust to the limited natural light. Vergil steps further into the home, minding his head and the ceiling as he goes. He only manages a few steps in when he hears the padding of paws on the ground rapidly approaching, turning to face whatever intends to charge him and...
Vergil frowns. He frowns deeply, lip curling slightly in disgust at the slobber that's now on half his face from the rough tongue attempting to groom him. He tries at first to simply dislodge the paws resting on his shoulders, but eventually must place a hand square in the middle of the panther's chest. He gives Shadow a gentle shove back down to the floor.
"Off, you nuisance," he says to the demonic familiar before lifting his gaze to scan for his master in the dark of the burrow. If he gives Shadow a pat on the head at the same time, perhaps somewhat undermining his lack of affection in getting the beast to stop, he will deny it. "Is there a reason you're skulking about in the shadows?"
When the entrance to V's temporary respite opens, he stays back. Griffon stays silent in the dark, rather than quipping and giving away their presence (or exact location). Shadow stalks forward, and V trusts him not to start a fight without acceptable reason. That's not the reaction the intruder gets, and V squints into the darkness to make out who so quickly woos his familiar's affection. Ah—
A moment before Vergil speaks, V makes him out well enough to tell its him. It makes complete sense. Who else would Shadow feel so comfortable with immediately? V is a part of Vergil, and Vergil thus is him. It almost feels like betrayal, except that it eases something inside him that Shadow recognizes that part of him inside Vergil. Griffon opens his beak, and V rests a heavy hand on it. "Shut it."
He steps forward into the lesser dark toward Vergil and Shadow. He scritches Shadow's back where it comes to hand and refuses the bait in Vergil's words. "The same as you, I suspect," V says, "Better this coffin black than the storm outside."
With a motion toward the wall, V shrugs. "And the electricity in this burrow is out."
"Wonderful," Vergil says dryly. Bad enough that he needed to seeks shelter in one of these uncomfortable hovels in the ground, but worse yet that it is much more a literal hole in the ground with its lack of basic amenities. From there, Vergil's hand leaves Shadow to begin peeling off his coat. It's an uncomfortable weight albeit not for its heaviness so much as the fact it is damp and sticks to him. "I don't suppose there is anything for the fireplace, is there?"
Willow seems to pride itself on home and hearth in a very literal sense. So, it stands to reason that there is a fireplace in this burrow much like the one he had been forced to occupy before. The matter of kindling and means with which to light it is less certain given the home is technically unoccupied beyond these two (or four, if counting the current familiars out and about) unexpected intruders. Vergil believes V sensible enough to have checked for such materials though had he enough time to look before Vergil entered the burrow. It could very well have been that Vergil interrupted V in lighting the aforementioned fireplace.
The burrow is dry and at a comfortable temperature. Admittedly, soaked as V is, that comfortable temperature isn't enough, but their surroundings could be far worse. He subtly checks for the telltale sign of the Yamato on Vergil's person to verify that the situation, however Vergil thinks of it, isn't worth slicing reality to avoid. V isn't worth admitting that strong a desire to avoid. Heaven forbid Vergil show such weakness, should he feel that way.
It does not matter what happened while Vergil was sick, and V hasn't informed anyone of it. He will not beggar care from Nero with it.
The current situation is easier to stick with. V comes out of the dark recesses to make his way over toward the fireplace. He crouches next to its side, where an inset shelf contains a small supply of chopped logs. "The primary materials are here," V says, "I can make a fire of them given a little time."
He's made fires for himself before across Red Grave City with a variety of supplies. Some of them didn't smell pleasant, but the meat he cooked was worse. Vergil knows that, of course, but V refuses to let the man handle everything, even if Vergil can. V's weak, not helpless. He starts setting up the logs and goes to a bookshelf in the home to find a book whose pages he can use as part of the kindling. "Make yourself at home."
As V moves about in the dark, Vergil hangs his coat up on one of the pegs nearby to the door. It likely won't dry by the time the storm has passed and they're able to leave the burrow, but he hardly needs it for warmth. He can simply carry it back with him when they're free of this rain. He places the Yamato nearby to his coat, allowing it to lean against the wall before scoffing lightly at V's invitation to make himself at home. For as discomforting as V's presence tends to be for Vergil, he has no intention of just loitering about in the entryway.
Remaining mindful of the lower exposed beams of the burrow, Vergil makes his way over towards the fireplace. He claims an armchair for himself before a particular familiar can get any further ideas about invading his personal space again. While V is busy starting the fire, Vergil leans down, unbuckling the garter on his boots to toe them off. Unlike his coat, it is a little more inconvenient to have them wet. They may still not yet dry all the way in front of the fire, but even a little drier is preferred.
As is often the case, Vergil remains silent rather than reaching for conversation with V. Running his fingers through his hair instead of speaking, he pushes loose strands back out of his face. The rainwater helps keep them in the position he pushes them into rather than having them fall back in his face. Vergil almost goes to wipe the excess water that dampens his hand on his shirt or pantleg, but there's little point in that. He shakes off the bit of excess water that dampens his hand before more subtly drying it against the fabric of the armchair. With that, he settles a little more into his seat albeit still silent as the burrow they occupy.
V gets the fire going and sits on a couch across from the armchair Vergil claims. Shadow leaps up, claiming most of the space and V's lap. Unlike Vergil, V doesn't bother removing anything to dry it off. His clothes are little enough he'd be stripping down to little. As it isn't bath time, they're in a semi-public place, and honestly he doesn't want to strip down near his opposite, V stays as he is. His clothes are only soaked with water, not demon gore. They're practically clean and spotless.
He too sits in silence. Shadow's purring fills the air between them, and it would be a calm time if that were that. Unfortunately, Griffon spits off nonstop in V's ear, pushing and cajoling and finally threatening to make himself known if V won't handle things "properly." The threat of roast chicken for dinner is an empty one, mostly, and V's face screws up under the litany. Vergil doesn't need the familiars and doesn't appear to have them anymore. In moments like these, that makes him lucky.
"Should we thank our host for this meeting, or does serendipity still play some role in this realm?" V asks. It's terrible conversation, nothing substantive. However, it moderately satisfies the bird. It's... something.
Vergil watches V briefly as he steps over to the couch, but settles his gaze on the fire instead of watching the other man be seated and subsequently buried beneath his familiar. The silence between them stretches on. Vergil does not exactly find it disquieting, but neither is it a particularly comfortable silence either. It's strange how there can be both at once so much and so little between two people. V bears too much knowledge of Vergil's inner workings for him to be at ease, but Vergil also feels confident in that V cannot know everything either.
His gaze slides over to V when he speaks, the ever-present furrow in Vergil's brow deepening slightly at the attempt for small talk.
"I was merely out for a walk. It is quieter in Willow than Epiphany, and makes for a more pleasant walk."
Vergil looks back to the fire, not inquiring what V was doing out this way. It's none of his concern, but he also feels it's not unreasonable to assume he was likely surveying prospects of more permanent housing than the guest cottage he has been occupying since his arrival. Which is based upon another assumption that it must be a slower process with how weak he now is, his body ravaged by being separated from its other half as long as it had been in their world.
Willow and Epiphany are the regions V spends the most time in and the land bordering the two the most. Epiphany is a city, and with it comes more noise. Beyond that, the whole places feels different, like V's walking in memories rather than a new and unknown city. It's a mildly discomforting place, not entirely unlike being in Vergil's presence. However, V believes it's something, not his mind granting Vergil rights to an entire city. It's why he stays in Willow, rather than moving to Satori Hills apartments. The quaint style in Willow isn't what he'd design from scratch, but there's no point considering regions even further from... his family.
Yes, whatever else anyone calls it, they are family. The burrows are the closest housing to Epiphany without being there proper, so some place like the furnished hole they are in will become his home. It's a touch squat, but V hopes to find one he can stand tall in, even if he rarely does so in practice. However, no one's come to turn him out of his temporary housing, so he hasn't felt any rush.
He supposes Vergil needs some quiet from life at home. People make noise and impede on solitude and quiet. Even when they don't speak to Vergil, the half-devil has to be aware of where they all are. It also suggests his relationships may not be entirely easy with everyone. That makes sense. As little as V has lived, he expects it takes longer than Vergil and Nero have been in Folkmore to figure out their relationship. Vergil may have a head start, but he's not the target for V to reach for. V will make his own path, not retread old grown. That's the only way it works for him to live. He cannot be the same as Vergil.
"I was on my way to Epiphany," V says, though Vergil hasn't asked. He may have difficulty with Vergil, but the Russian Blue is open to bribes.
Vergil has been somewhat waiting to see what it is V will do. It seemed just as one environmental danger passed, another began soon after. So, it worked out well enough that V made no attempt to find and establish his own place, separate from Vergil, Nero, and Kyrie. Vergil doesn't doubt that even if neither one of them brought it up directly, there would be some agreement that V needed to return, and they would end up back together again before long.
But now the danger has passed once more—life in Folkmore returning to as normal as it can be on a good day—and V remains. Vergil has opted to say nothing of it. He's gotten used to V skulking about, to the bird's yammering when he's permitted to exist outside of V, and to Shadow's incessant need to be a tripping hazard. He can't say that V's existence outside of himself sits well with him any better than it had before V moved in, but Vergil's tolerance for him has nonetheless increased since beginning to share a living space. Bygone are the days of thinly veiled resentment, or sharp words for critical remarks. It's...something, at least. Even if Vergil finds him to be a walking, confounding contradiction—wanting to remain in Vergil's orbit while in the same breath inherently undermining Vergil's own existence in his decision to prolong his life—it's something.
"What are your plans for the day?" Vergil sits at the kitchen island, his breakfast finished albeit his dishes still in front of him.
The moderate dangers wrought in Folkmore buy V time, time in which he seems expected to stay in this household. It's as close to a home as he's had, but V's well aware he's a guest not a resident, no matter how long the visit extends. Dangers here inevitably pass, and the day will come when they see no need for him to stay. It appears to be that day when Vergil speaks to him after breakfast. A stone sinks in V's gut. He holds his breathing steady and closes the book of poetry, one of Vergil's, he'd been reading from.
"I'm going to the library," V says. He may as well borrow books from there instead of Vergil, something he needs to get used to. "I'm considering checking out the community gardens in Willow, but that is not certain."
He does not trust the invitation from their host, but spirits that host stalls near his at the farmers' market invited him as well. It's a way of earning more Lore. V can hear how sad his plans sound, how little is to them, how little there is to his life. The life he insisted on living by coming here. A life he has little idea how to live. He must, however, to make it worth it.
Vergil hums his acknowledgment of V's response before rising from his chair.
"If you would not mind a detour along the way to the library then," he says, as he gathers up his dishes, "there is something I have been meaning to show you that I believe you will like."
Vergil has no intention of taking it personally, however, should V decline today. He's not exactly on the verge of death, but neither is he particularly spry and energetic. When it comes to traveling around Folkmore, V must be far more mindful than the rest of them about how far and how much walking he must do. Walking to and from the library and spending time wandering its shelves could very well wear V out on a bad day, and whatever other plans he might make for himself. And given Vergil's intention of an invitation rather than derailment of V's plans for the day, Vergil almost anticipates a suggestion they go another day rather than acceptance.
Heading to the sink with his dishes, Vergil stands with his back to V as he cleans them, his habit of avoiding dishes being left in the sink for long persisting even now.
Something, V suspects, might be tolerable living conditions, perhaps an apartment or small home near but not too near to this house. It might even be closer to the train station, the library, or should Vergil feel especially generous and thoughtful the Catfe. It is thoughtful in a way, but V tastes ash in his mouth instead of breakfast. As much as he feels an imposition on the household, he's come to enjoy being part of it. V wants to stay, but the words dry in his mouth. Nero might be more amenable, but V will not put the boy between the two of them. Should Vergil want him gone, V and Vergil can work it out (even if working it out primarily entails V packing up what belongings he has and taking up residence elsewhere).
"That's fine," V says. Delaying the inevitable, when it has come, serves no purpose. He's not going to squirm out of the conversation to buy another day or two or seven in this home. "Catbus regularly comes to the library around the time school ends for the day, and it stops wherever people need to go. I can time my activities accordingly."
Sharing the seats with children, even teenagers, is a larger bother than stepping inside a creature for transportation. However, V has no qualms about holding his own with them. Other adults might give them leeway, but they're responsible for their actions, the same as anyone else.
"We can head out when you are ready then. I've little else for the day."
Softer individuals might question V's agreement, provide that reassurance that it did not need to be today just to be certain it would not inconvenience him. Vergil offers no such coddling, assuming V to be more than capable of managing himself and judging what he is capable of doing in a day. He washes and dries his hands after setting his clean dishes in the drying rack. Vergil remains unaware of the leaps in logic and conclusions that V is reaching as a result of his vague introduction of doing anything together at all today.
"Your familiars will need to behave themselves while we are out."
Griffon will just get them thrown out. Even with all the signage emphasizing utter silence is to be maintained at all times within the bookshop, no doubt the bird would take that as a challenge. And while Shadow is less likely to cause nearly as much trouble, he is still a willful being. Better that he remain a mobility aid for V as much as possible if he is to be present.
A day with only V on Vergil's agenda—no training with Nero, no comparing notes on books with Kyrie, no time spent with his partner. Vergil has more connections, even should they sometimes have similarly light schedules in Folkmore. The restriction on their time together is only V's schedule, something that gives V a polite way to exit should he need it. He's loathe to depend on it, however, as Vergil is as likely to see through him as he is to see through Vergil.
He doesn't leap up to go immediately. V sets the book aside and considers his day. Whatever happens, however things go with Vergil, it's best they part ways afterward. So he will be out through lunch, so he'll need to buy or summon his food. Probably. V rises and moves toward the kitchen to check out leftovers in the fridge he might bring with him. He's not picky, and the food here is quite good on average.
He glances sideways at Vergil at the reference that V's familiars, not only Griffon, will need to behave. The bird can bother most people, so V takes that into account for when he allows Griffon free to roam and when he accepts being tormented in his own head as the cost for not allowing it more often. It really slows down his reading sometimes. However, the library is not a place for Griffon to be allowed free. Also, Vergil prefers Griffon not to be out all the time at home. His head can be quite the noisy place.
It is probably best none of them are out if the conversation turns the way V expects. Yet he doubts that's what Vergil means. Vergil would not demand that for his own sake, so there's definitely some third party involved, even if it's only the cats at Catfe.
He pulls out a container and an ice pack. V packs them into his bag. It'll stay good long enough. That's all he needs to be ready, and waiting for bad things to happen makes them feel like they take forever. "I'm ready."
While V readies himself to head out, Vergil does the same by collecting Yamato and his coat. True to his word, once V indicates he's ready, Vergil steps out of the house. He keeps a slower pace than he would normally walk, trying to be mindful that V's stamina will only last for so long even if it is not the least bit likely he will be exhausted by this walk alone. Vergil does not reach for any semblance of conversation as they walk. At most, Vergil spares a glance or two towards V when they first begin walking, making certain his pace is not too much before his attention is on the path ahead of them.
Walking side by side, people could be excused for missing the similarities between them. V hunches, not at his full height, and his gait reflects the way he leans on and uses his cane. He's thin, gaunt even, and no amount of moisturizer will fix all the cracks subtly marking his skin. It's how he's coming apart, an act ever in process and never reaching its conclusion. Vergil, however, is strong, solid, and tall. He emanates an energy that says not to fuck with him in a way that doesn't stick with V. It helped him get rich in a matter of days, to pay Dante's fees, but it's a continued annoyance here in Folkmore.
He says nothing when Vergil says nothing. The silence, in and of itself, means little. Neither of them are partial to small talk. V uses that conversational technique only to gain enough spoons to live and usually with strangers or acquaintances. Not Vergil. He's sooner get impaled on Yamato.
"Slowly but surely," V answers. "Though I haven't finished your books, I've taken to rereading some as I go along. I get more out of them the second time."
And more, after he's read a few more books. They continue to hold new ideas, new worlds, in only turns of phrase he could never derive on his own. It's one of the greater pleasures he's found here, a good use of his time.
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may the first
[Vergil does not go about making a particular fuss in the packaging for the book. It's a simple, brown wrapping paper with an equally unremarkable cord. He thought for a moment of including a tag—it is after all as close to a birthday as V can truly claim to have—but ultimately decided against it. Whether or not V draws any connection to the date does not matter, and he will likely assume the sender based on the neatness of its wrappings and the book itself. Let that be that.]
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Because he lives. He's alive. He rouses from a nap, having worn himself out walking around Willow, and picks his head off Shadow who possesses most of the bed to energetic tap tap tapping at his door. Perhaps he's overstayed his welcome. With little enthusiasm at the prospect of finding somewhere else to sleep, a nice tree might do, V makes his way to the door. He opens it to see—
A raven spirit shockingly of Griffon's size, larger than he's ever imagined a raven to be. It holds out a tidy package expectantly. A delivery, it assures him. V accepts the parcel, what's clearly a book, and sees the spirit off. Said spirit makes sure he knows that it can deliver any letter or package that V wishes to any Star Child in Folkmore. Get in touch, and it will make sure everything gets delivered. A nod, but V returns to sit against Shadow's side.
He does nothing but hold the package for a long while, long enough that Griffon teases him about it. V lets the annoying words wash over him. It's the first time he's received a gift, and wrapped as it is, even if Vergil's told others he is here, it can only be from him. An olive branch. Something more that V lacks the words to articulate. Griffon threatens to bite the paper from the package, to bite V's fingers, to make sure V's still alive in there.
He unwraps the paper carefully, making sure not to tear it. He sets it aside, but from the first moments the familiar line of the V on the book's cover comes to view, V knows what it is. The book. The one he found in his childhood home, and the one he took his name from. He traces the two sharp lines. Familiar as it is, he's read many of the poems between its pages, but he reads again until he feels restless.
They live in Epiphany near the border of Willow. V sets out and rides, first, in a small vehicle pulled by a spirit to reach the edge of Epiphany. Then he wanders, unsure where to find his whole self. So it's on a street he sees the familiar coat, the white hair, the firm gait.
"Vergil," V says from where he walks. It's not loud, but the half-devil has good hearing.
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"You left the mountains," he comments, more matter-of-fact than anything else. He doesn't necessarily look at V as an unwelcome presence, but neither does he view the other's company as a boon. It simply is what it is. "Should I take this to mean you've found some place to stay?"
Were it anyone else, that would be likely an unreasonable question to ask. But Vergil spent much of his years growing up on the streets and outside, and the majority of V's life was spent in a similar manner when he chose to remain behind in Red Grave City rather than following Nero back to Fortuna to regroup. It would no more surprise him to learn that V's found a comfortable bench in a park somewhere than to learn he's found a suitable roof over his head by now. If anything, the latter would be more of a surprise.
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"The weather here is more amenable," V says, an agreement to Vergil's own suggestion the previous time they met. The cold makes everything take more effort, and V dresses the same as he did his entire life. He's not of a mind to be forced to pick up many more layers for the freezing temperatures. Stubborn perhaps, but that's his choice.
He's not certain where he will live long term. Epiphany and Willow each have advantages and disadvantages. He doesn't know enough to make that form of decision, but his body must rest somewhere each night. That's how days and nights work. "A guest cottage in Willow."
It distressed the local spirits to find V outside come morning. Perhaps those who stray farther into the region, away from the main hustle and bustle, get away with it, but he tired of telling off those concerned busybodies. The problem with sleeping in public is that the public feels entitled to be there and give their opinions noisily.
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Vergil says little, but there's often more beneath what few words he chooses to use, and that is certainly the case here. He can only assume the decision to stop in Willow is at least partially motivated by a desire to be within decent proximity to the closest thing V has to family or friends. He will be less likely to be exhausted should he seek them out on any sort of regular basis than if he were to choose further away. But the region is also not a bad one when it comes to its climate, and it's not difficult to imagine V seeking out something a bit more pastoral after his experiences in Red Grave City. But it's clearly not a permanent decision by the use of the word "guest." A temporary shelter then. V may still content himself with exploring the other regions, weighing their pros and cons against one another, before settling in somewhere.
It seems a way in which they differ from one another. Or it could be that it's less a way in which they differ and more how their circumstances upon arrival did. When Vergil arrived, he was alone as far as people from his world was concerned. At the time, the apartment he selected seemed to be the most sensible. It afforded him privacy given that it was a studio apartment with neighbors a few doors down rather than directly beside him or across the hall, but the apartment itself was not as isolated as say Mizu's cabin. He had easy access to anything that he might need, which allowed him to maintain a bit tighter of a budget with his Lore until he could acquire the Yamato. There was really nothing further to consider than that.
...Well, perhaps not quite only that. Perhaps there was some part of Vergil that was waiting for at least Dante to follow him to Folkmore. The plan had never really been for Vergil and Dante to live together, but it was not difficult for him to picture Dante doing well within Epiphany rather than some of the other regions. So, they would at least have the opportunity to live close by to one another.
"So what brings you so far from your cottage?" he asks, looking at V. "I doubt our paths crossing again is some great coincidence. I assume you want something."
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If he could know things without having to ask for them, V would know how Vergil came to live with his brother and his son. He wants to know what happened there because his memories of Dante and Nero are not the sort to suggest so close a relationship and ability to get along as to live together. To matter to each other, yes. To build something together now that Vergil's learned from his wrongdoing with V's help, yes. To get to such a point as to live together? That is a truth he needs the story behind and one he does not expect to get.
Ever to the point. V's human frailty, his weakness even beyond that of most humans, gives him away and will continue to do so every time he goes more than a few steps beyond his door. There's nothing for that. Even had it been a coincidence, V's utterance of Vergil's name to grab his attention demonstrates that longing inside him. It is there in ways he cannot put to words.
The book weighs on him, heavier than it should be, for its delivery. Beyond the clothes on his back, which came with him to Folkmore of Thirteen's accord, the book of poetry, this exact book of poetry, is his sole possession. Everything the dragons gave him and he would trade it all in a heartbeat for this book of Blake's poetry. His paltry Lore provides for his daily bread, but he hasn't spared it for anything more. Vergil wants to get to business, but it is not business but feelings, heavy and strong, that weigh on him.
Why did you give it to me? V wants to ask. It means as much to Vergil as to him, and clearly Vergil had it. Vergil obtained it in this world, though it would not naturally be here. He had it, and he gave it away. To V.
"The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest," V says. He looks at Vergil closely. He wants to grasp the olive branches Vergil offers him like a life line, one after the other. Only once in hand, it is not clear what to do. He's left, feebly, with only, "I am not truly one. Not even two months, but you make me feel as though I could be."
It's his first gift, his and truly his alone. Griffon helping him fleece a man of his clothes is not the same.
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Vergil entrusted the book to Nero before leaving for the Underworld to finish cleaning up the mess he made. He trusted the boy was smart enough to understand there was more to it for Vergil than just a collection of poems, but there was no time to clarify further until recently. That book had been the first thing Vergil truly reclaimed for himself, of his old life. At the time, as V, he hadn't known exactly the weight of it, but he does now with the benefit of hindsight. Nero understands it now, too. But where Vergil sees it as a beginning point in trying to find the pieces of himself that he lost over the years, Vergil assumes it is the beginning for V in how he came to be. The first thing he reached for without any understanding of why it mattered until more of his memories returned to him.
So, in a strange sense, the book is akin to Vergil's birthright to the Yamato. Restoring it to V's possession seemed the only choice in these circumstances.
"The alternative was to deny your existence," he says. "But I have come to understand the cost of that, and have no need to be taught lessons twice."
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You're not alone, asshole. Indeed he's not. He ignores the distraction while he's with Vergil. It's a more awkward dance of a conversation even than his first meeting with Dante. He came to Devil May Cry as a customer, a comfortable position for Dante and a role for him. It's far less charted territory here.
Intriguing that possessing the book feels like denying V's existence. It is where he took his name from, so much as V can be considered a name. He wonders how long Vergil stared at it, unable to find himself at ease, until he decided to give it to V. Then he delivered it today of all days. Not personally, but that's why V came to find him. Something so significant felt wrong in an impersonal exchange with a spirit.
"I appreciate not seeing what Urizen could do to this fine land," V says, nor with facing a need to sacrifice his existence a second time to stop him. He came here to exist as himself, that desperate bid for life and a more selfish one this time than his original plan. Yet Vergil standing there before him is not him, even as they are the same man. Nor are the words especially sweet. A pragmatic choice more than an open hand. At least the way Vergil puts it.
V resists the urge to drag himself away. No matter if he is something unpleasant stuck under Vergil's boot, he is there and wants more of this day and this man. Wants but does not put that wanting plainly into words. "Since we're not denying my existence or the day, lets get something to eat."
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At the suggestion of food, Vergil scoffs lightly with a roll of his eyes. Vergil doesn't believe for a second that V is here in an attempt to make use of Vergil's greater stock of Lore to see to an empty belly, but there is something a touch predictable about the move all the same. An opportunity not squandered, as it were. Vergil does not fault him for it though. The scoff is merely because Vergil believes he possessed a little more subtlety when attempting to take advantage of such an opportunity in the past. Vergil is not a particularly gifted liar, but V leaves much to be desired in that department.
"Very well," he says, glancing over at V. "What do you desire to eat?"
That is the question so often asked of Vergil that he's mildly curious if V has a better sense of an answer than Vergil is ever able to offer Nero or Dante.
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sometime during them storms
Vergil had been on his way home from a walk through Willow—just a simple one with no particular reason or direction beyond just getting out of the house for a little while—when the sky suddenly darkened. The light rainfall that preceded the torrential downpour was minuscule, offering Vergil little time to (literally) duck into one of the little burrows for temporary shelter. Frankly, he cares little if the home is occupied or not. He has no desire to be soaked any further than he already is, and will deal with the potential consequence of barging in on a stranger unannounced.
It would seem, at first, that the one he's chosen is unoccupied. Once the door is closed and the sound of the storm is muffled beyond the door, the burrow is more or less silent (sans the sound of him lightly dripping in the entryway, anyways). And not only is it silent, but it would appear to be dark based upon an initial glance as his eyes adjust to the limited natural light. Vergil steps further into the home, minding his head and the ceiling as he goes. He only manages a few steps in when he hears the padding of paws on the ground rapidly approaching, turning to face whatever intends to charge him and...
Vergil frowns. He frowns deeply, lip curling slightly in disgust at the slobber that's now on half his face from the rough tongue attempting to groom him. He tries at first to simply dislodge the paws resting on his shoulders, but eventually must place a hand square in the middle of the panther's chest. He gives Shadow a gentle shove back down to the floor.
"Off, you nuisance," he says to the demonic familiar before lifting his gaze to scan for his master in the dark of the burrow. If he gives Shadow a pat on the head at the same time, perhaps somewhat undermining his lack of affection in getting the beast to stop, he will deny it. "Is there a reason you're skulking about in the shadows?"
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A moment before Vergil speaks, V makes him out well enough to tell its him. It makes complete sense. Who else would Shadow feel so comfortable with immediately? V is a part of Vergil, and Vergil thus is him. It almost feels like betrayal, except that it eases something inside him that Shadow recognizes that part of him inside Vergil. Griffon opens his beak, and V rests a heavy hand on it. "Shut it."
He steps forward into the lesser dark toward Vergil and Shadow. He scritches Shadow's back where it comes to hand and refuses the bait in Vergil's words. "The same as you, I suspect," V says, "Better this coffin black than the storm outside."
With a motion toward the wall, V shrugs. "And the electricity in this burrow is out."
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Willow seems to pride itself on home and hearth in a very literal sense. So, it stands to reason that there is a fireplace in this burrow much like the one he had been forced to occupy before. The matter of kindling and means with which to light it is less certain given the home is technically unoccupied beyond these two (or four, if counting the current familiars out and about) unexpected intruders. Vergil believes V sensible enough to have checked for such materials though had he enough time to look before Vergil entered the burrow. It could very well have been that Vergil interrupted V in lighting the aforementioned fireplace.
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It does not matter what happened while Vergil was sick, and V hasn't informed anyone of it. He will not beggar care from Nero with it.
The current situation is easier to stick with. V comes out of the dark recesses to make his way over toward the fireplace. He crouches next to its side, where an inset shelf contains a small supply of chopped logs. "The primary materials are here," V says, "I can make a fire of them given a little time."
He's made fires for himself before across Red Grave City with a variety of supplies. Some of them didn't smell pleasant, but the meat he cooked was worse. Vergil knows that, of course, but V refuses to let the man handle everything, even if Vergil can. V's weak, not helpless. He starts setting up the logs and goes to a bookshelf in the home to find a book whose pages he can use as part of the kindling. "Make yourself at home."
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Remaining mindful of the lower exposed beams of the burrow, Vergil makes his way over towards the fireplace. He claims an armchair for himself before a particular familiar can get any further ideas about invading his personal space again. While V is busy starting the fire, Vergil leans down, unbuckling the garter on his boots to toe them off. Unlike his coat, it is a little more inconvenient to have them wet. They may still not yet dry all the way in front of the fire, but even a little drier is preferred.
As is often the case, Vergil remains silent rather than reaching for conversation with V. Running his fingers through his hair instead of speaking, he pushes loose strands back out of his face. The rainwater helps keep them in the position he pushes them into rather than having them fall back in his face. Vergil almost goes to wipe the excess water that dampens his hand on his shirt or pantleg, but there's little point in that. He shakes off the bit of excess water that dampens his hand before more subtly drying it against the fabric of the armchair. With that, he settles a little more into his seat albeit still silent as the burrow they occupy.
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He too sits in silence. Shadow's purring fills the air between them, and it would be a calm time if that were that. Unfortunately, Griffon spits off nonstop in V's ear, pushing and cajoling and finally threatening to make himself known if V won't handle things "properly." The threat of roast chicken for dinner is an empty one, mostly, and V's face screws up under the litany. Vergil doesn't need the familiars and doesn't appear to have them anymore. In moments like these, that makes him lucky.
"Should we thank our host for this meeting, or does serendipity still play some role in this realm?" V asks. It's terrible conversation, nothing substantive. However, it moderately satisfies the bird. It's... something.
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His gaze slides over to V when he speaks, the ever-present furrow in Vergil's brow deepening slightly at the attempt for small talk.
"I was merely out for a walk. It is quieter in Willow than Epiphany, and makes for a more pleasant walk."
Vergil looks back to the fire, not inquiring what V was doing out this way. It's none of his concern, but he also feels it's not unreasonable to assume he was likely surveying prospects of more permanent housing than the guest cottage he has been occupying since his arrival. Which is based upon another assumption that it must be a slower process with how weak he now is, his body ravaged by being separated from its other half as long as it had been in their world.
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Yes, whatever else anyone calls it, they are family. The burrows are the closest housing to Epiphany without being there proper, so some place like the furnished hole they are in will become his home. It's a touch squat, but V hopes to find one he can stand tall in, even if he rarely does so in practice. However, no one's come to turn him out of his temporary housing, so he hasn't felt any rush.
He supposes Vergil needs some quiet from life at home. People make noise and impede on solitude and quiet. Even when they don't speak to Vergil, the half-devil has to be aware of where they all are. It also suggests his relationships may not be entirely easy with everyone. That makes sense. As little as V has lived, he expects it takes longer than Vergil and Nero have been in Folkmore to figure out their relationship. Vergil may have a head start, but he's not the target for V to reach for. V will make his own path, not retread old grown. That's the only way it works for him to live. He cannot be the same as Vergil.
"I was on my way to Epiphany," V says, though Vergil hasn't asked. He may have difficulty with Vergil, but the Russian Blue is open to bribes.
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october
But now the danger has passed once more—life in Folkmore returning to as normal as it can be on a good day—and V remains. Vergil has opted to say nothing of it. He's gotten used to V skulking about, to the bird's yammering when he's permitted to exist outside of V, and to Shadow's incessant need to be a tripping hazard. He can't say that V's existence outside of himself sits well with him any better than it had before V moved in, but Vergil's tolerance for him has nonetheless increased since beginning to share a living space. Bygone are the days of thinly veiled resentment, or sharp words for critical remarks. It's...something, at least. Even if Vergil finds him to be a walking, confounding contradiction—wanting to remain in Vergil's orbit while in the same breath inherently undermining Vergil's own existence in his decision to prolong his life—it's something.
"What are your plans for the day?" Vergil sits at the kitchen island, his breakfast finished albeit his dishes still in front of him.
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"I'm going to the library," V says. He may as well borrow books from there instead of Vergil, something he needs to get used to. "I'm considering checking out the community gardens in Willow, but that is not certain."
He does not trust the invitation from their host, but spirits that host stalls near his at the farmers' market invited him as well. It's a way of earning more Lore. V can hear how sad his plans sound, how little is to them, how little there is to his life. The life he insisted on living by coming here. A life he has little idea how to live. He must, however, to make it worth it.
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"If you would not mind a detour along the way to the library then," he says, as he gathers up his dishes, "there is something I have been meaning to show you that I believe you will like."
Vergil has no intention of taking it personally, however, should V decline today. He's not exactly on the verge of death, but neither is he particularly spry and energetic. When it comes to traveling around Folkmore, V must be far more mindful than the rest of them about how far and how much walking he must do. Walking to and from the library and spending time wandering its shelves could very well wear V out on a bad day, and whatever other plans he might make for himself. And given Vergil's intention of an invitation rather than derailment of V's plans for the day, Vergil almost anticipates a suggestion they go another day rather than acceptance.
Heading to the sink with his dishes, Vergil stands with his back to V as he cleans them, his habit of avoiding dishes being left in the sink for long persisting even now.
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"That's fine," V says. Delaying the inevitable, when it has come, serves no purpose. He's not going to squirm out of the conversation to buy another day or two or seven in this home. "Catbus regularly comes to the library around the time school ends for the day, and it stops wherever people need to go. I can time my activities accordingly."
Sharing the seats with children, even teenagers, is a larger bother than stepping inside a creature for transportation. However, V has no qualms about holding his own with them. Other adults might give them leeway, but they're responsible for their actions, the same as anyone else.
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Softer individuals might question V's agreement, provide that reassurance that it did not need to be today just to be certain it would not inconvenience him. Vergil offers no such coddling, assuming V to be more than capable of managing himself and judging what he is capable of doing in a day. He washes and dries his hands after setting his clean dishes in the drying rack. Vergil remains unaware of the leaps in logic and conclusions that V is reaching as a result of his vague introduction of doing anything together at all today.
"Your familiars will need to behave themselves while we are out."
Griffon will just get them thrown out. Even with all the signage emphasizing utter silence is to be maintained at all times within the bookshop, no doubt the bird would take that as a challenge. And while Shadow is less likely to cause nearly as much trouble, he is still a willful being. Better that he remain a mobility aid for V as much as possible if he is to be present.
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He doesn't leap up to go immediately. V sets the book aside and considers his day. Whatever happens, however things go with Vergil, it's best they part ways afterward. So he will be out through lunch, so he'll need to buy or summon his food. Probably. V rises and moves toward the kitchen to check out leftovers in the fridge he might bring with him. He's not picky, and the food here is quite good on average.
He glances sideways at Vergil at the reference that V's familiars, not only Griffon, will need to behave. The bird can bother most people, so V takes that into account for when he allows Griffon free to roam and when he accepts being tormented in his own head as the cost for not allowing it more often. It really slows down his reading sometimes. However, the library is not a place for Griffon to be allowed free. Also, Vergil prefers Griffon not to be out all the time at home. His head can be quite the noisy place.
It is probably best none of them are out if the conversation turns the way V expects. Yet he doubts that's what Vergil means. Vergil would not demand that for his own sake, so there's definitely some third party involved, even if it's only the cats at Catfe.
He pulls out a container and an ice pack. V packs them into his bag. It'll stay good long enough. That's all he needs to be ready, and waiting for bad things to happen makes them feel like they take forever. "I'm ready."
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He breaks the silence eventually.
"How has your reading been?"
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He says nothing when Vergil says nothing. The silence, in and of itself, means little. Neither of them are partial to small talk. V uses that conversational technique only to gain enough spoons to live and usually with strangers or acquaintances. Not Vergil. He's sooner get impaled on Yamato.
"Slowly but surely," V answers. "Though I haven't finished your books, I've taken to rereading some as I go along. I get more out of them the second time."
And more, after he's read a few more books. They continue to hold new ideas, new worlds, in only turns of phrase he could never derive on his own. It's one of the greater pleasures he's found here, a good use of his time.