There's no satisfaction in the fact V pushes Vergil's buttons and presses him to interact in ways he clearly prefers not to. That's not the purpose of his asking, only a consequence not worth avoiding in this instance. Only a true saint might pass on asking all the questions someone doesn't want answering, and V is entirely human. Given the statements about their host, V also considers that unwanted as it may be, answering them of his own will here and now to V's question, one that cannot enforce itself upon him, may be more acceptable than the same question in a trial. More mundanely, perhaps, coming from Dante or Nero if they know and would share it (or what context V may need to connect the final dots himself). Vergil answering means he's in control.
A return to the human world. They were not long party to the human world in V's time. Even a year later would be only a glimpse of azure and gold crocuses to the years under Mundus's control and what followed the demon king's death. He would hope Vergil would not be so eager to return, and what few glimpses into Vergil's life and behavior in Folkmore lent him faith. The man befriends cats, normal defenseless house cats. It's not the behavior of one about to conquer hell. The two images superimpose, and V waits to see if the image will grow clearer and unified.
He waits and shuts down any reaction on his part, either judgment or hope. Neither has a public place. The stuttering conversation will jar worse without further answer, but fortunately, Vergil opts to provide further context. What shifts in an hour, a day... It's all a moment.
Stopping Urizen and merging with him was only a necessary step, not the final one. It would rein in Urizen's ambitions and create the opportunity to finish what he started. The tree could not be allowed to stand and to regrow until another hungry demon hungers for its fruit. It's steps that extend beyond his life, beyond what V could do, and thus beyond his most pressing thoughts. That is someone else's problem. Vergil's. Not his. He nods in recognition.
"Someone would hurt that boy if he went to the Underworld," V muses. That line Vergil won't have crossed. Whether he was cognizant of the line at the time or not, V suspects its beginnings fostered. V wanted to be saved, and once saved, he imagines, Vergil could turn his attention to saving someone else. Not everyone, no, but his son.
V is glad that Dante is with Vergil. Being alone again so soon would have been bad, especially in that place. It's possible to be a loner who prefers his own company and benefit from the company of others. "No doubt our host picks and chooses when to make us her offer," V says, "so that the implied pressure of our situation provides all the push we need."
He smiles with teeth. "We're grateful for what we find."
"It seems to be that way more often than not when she offers the illusion of a choice, yes," Vergil says with a slight nod. V does not have much experience in Folkmore, but V's conclusion does not surprise him in the least. The fox spirit makes vague allusions to some hidden, greater potential within all of them, and claims the trials are meant to be steps towards that greater potential. But it's ill-defined and Vergil has always assumed that is by design. The Star Children fail or succeed by their own metrics in the long-term, and the Fox retains her justification for whatever nonsense she inflicts upon them all.
"I do not care for what she claims to offer us one way or another," he says. In his youth, it would have been perhaps bravado to say as much. No doubt a part of him would have interpreted the promise of potential to be accessing the rest of his power or claiming the power of Sparda for himself. But he means it now. Vergil has no desire to reach for some greater potential while in this place. Whatever changes he may make about himself are for the people he loves, to be the man that they need and want him to be. It is by his choice, not some consequence of a trial. He continues, "My purpose in being here has only ever been to return to my son without needing to tear or exploit another hole in the barrier between the human world and the demonic.
"His unexpected presence here complicates the matter somewhat, but our aims are aligned and remain the same, as is true of Dante as well." And Vergil would rather that Nero somehow followed him to a place like this where there are so few threats to him than trailing after him into the demon world. Nero is strong and skilled within his own right, but he does not belong there. None of them really do as Vergil has come to realize. It was his father's home, but never his and he was foolish to ever believe he would find what he was looking for there. He stills his hand on the cat in his lap, and she does not seem to particularly mind. "The Fox will rob you of choice often, but you are not completely without it. You still have a choice over what you choose to do or not do in this place."
Vergil averts his gaze again as he adds, "More than you've likely known before now."
His potential is that of a sapling cut down before its time. V had no goal beyond life itself when he accepted the offer because everything else was unknown. There's no way for him to exist in his own world and survive as he is. He's known it his entire existence, so as bitter as the truth is, it simply is. Vergil can return to his son, but V will only return to embrace Urizen and give Vergil that chance for life. There is no potential, once reached, that can be released into the wild. Perhaps that makes him half the man, a dead man, a dead end. If he accepted that, he never would have lasted two days. The truth of it is irrelevant. Only his struggle to continue.
Vergil's complications are clear. Should he leave, he has no guarantee the fox will return him to the human world along that path he came here seeking. Instead he could wind up exactly where he began—separated from his son with no way back that does not grant demons a way to the human world. So why not instead have time with his son here, should it be all the time he can expect in the near future. Why cut that short? It is reason enough to stay.
Because foolish or not, V believes Vergil. It's not merely hoping Vergil can be believed. For reasons difficult to articulate, even to himself, V believes him. Not enough to turn a blind eye, should Vergil stumble, fall, or willfully cut away from that path right before him, but he suspects such difficulties will only be the natural consequences of taking the road less traveled by. May Vergil not prove V a fool.
That task belongs solely to V, what with the choices that stretch endlessly before him. There's no end to them. Though each choice cuts off others. It can be paralyzing and explains why so many people live by routine. The blessed peace of fewer decisions to make. V wants to live, but he does not know what that means now that he no longer focuses narrowly on the tasks that had been before him.
"It was a mistake to cut out your humanity, but I neither regret my existence nor complain of the paucity of choices it left me. As unusual and extraordinary as the challenges you have faced and I, we are not alone in facing difficulties. Thankfully or else the poetry in this book," V sets the precious volume on the table, "would mean nothing."
He pauses as tea and their muffins are brought to the table. Once the waitress leaves, V pours them each a cup. The cat he was petting comes closer and leans against his arm.
His eyes drift to the book when it is laid upon the table. As the waitress is setting things on the table, he continues to look at it rather than V or her, musing on how odd it is that one object can hold such similar meaning to two individuals. Oh, he knows that the connection V feels is a by-product of place and time that Vergil himself created in where he chose to cut from himself what he perceived to be his weaknesses. But still... The book reflects where one life ended, a true loss of innocence as Vergil began his march down his dark and lonely path. But it also reflects where one began, born into the world as a brief return to innocence before the nightmares began for V. For Vergil, without having the time to properly read it from cover to cover, claiming the book again was picking up where he left off. For V, claiming it was claiming himself.
Similar, but certainly not the same. Just as they are.
"I do not feel guilt," Vergil snaps, his eyes lifting immediately from the book in a glare at V. His change in tone is enough so that the cat in his lap lifts her head from her relaxed position. "Whether it was a mistake or not does not matter. I made the choice to survive as I always have and always will. For what reason should I feel guilt or shame about that?"
The tone is enough to tell the lie. It's so obvious to V that it's hard to imagine anyone believing Vergil upon hearing it. He knows they have so much in common that in many ways, understanding Vergil's reactions are like looking in a pond. The image is almost the same, rendered different only by the medium it is in. The glare feels more in response to being called out, not merely silently recognized, than anything else. Out pours the common explanation, one that goes behind so much that each of them have done. V cannot exclude himself from that.
V takes a sip of tea as a measure of time. Vergil's aggression and defensiveness do not mean V needs to rush his response. He even pets the cat who bonks her head against his arm a couple of more times as more demanding on his response than Vergil.
"You survived by tearing off your son's arm and have since sworn never to harm him again and seen to it that I swore the same," V states baldly, "You feel guilty as a father who harmed his son, no matter you did not know of or recognize him at the time."
The more obvious answer first. The undeniable one.
"You survived by cutting out part of yourself and leaving it to wither away and perish. You might have told yourself you do not feel guilty because that too was you, but now you must face it, face me, as separate from yourself.
"You can feel no guilt for surviving itself but also feel guilty for what it did."
Not to mention that in so doing, Vergil left his survival in the hands of such weakness he did not want. Yes, that weakness is as much him as the power, so again, it's easier to ignore such guilt when the only person he did that to is himself. It's not anymore. Not with V sitting here.
V takes his time in providing a response to Vergil, but the half-demon is unyielding in his glare while he waits in silence. The prolonged silence ends up preferred to V speaking as it turns out, Vergil's jaw clenching tight the longer V comments upon his decisions with what Vergil assumes V must believe to be pinpoint accurate insight. By the end, Vergil has risen to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor but not tipping by some small miracle with the force. The Russian Blue that formerly occupied his lap does not land in a heap on the floor, quickly leaping back onto the table. There's a light clatter as she steps on the small plate Vergil's muffin had been placed upon. The muffin is not upended, but his tea is knocked over in her attempts not to step on it all the same, and both cats—the Russian and the little one who expressed interest in V—clear off from the table quickly at the sudden noise of the cup hitting the table. Tea pools on the tabletop before beginning to drizzle and drip to the floor below. For a moment, that seems to be all the sound in the Catfé beyond Vergil's harsh breathing as hardly anyone else, patron or staff, seems to dare move.
"If you think for one moment that I intend to sit here and tolerate you speaking to me like this— You, the one whose consciousness ceases to be the moment you are returned to where you belong— You would have the gall to attempt dictating to me what I feel and accuse me of lying! You are sorely mistaken, if you really think I've any interest in partaking in any of that, let alone this pathetic facsimile of a life you so desperately cling to," he says, his gaze upon V cold and angry all the while he sputters. "I care not what becomes of you now any more than I did the day I excised you from me. You are nothing more to me now than you were then."
Vergil snatches Yamato from what it still rests against the table.
"Enjoy your tea. And your book," he spits before turning on his heel and making his way towards the door. Everyone in the Catfé very quickly turns their attention anywhere but towards V or Vergil.
Vergil empties his anger and frustration on V. The words are biting cold, much like the environs in Wintermute, but V lets it wash over him. The book belies the harsh words, that V is nothing more than cast off weakness to be discarded and left to die, that his life is nothing but a lie (shapes among the clouds to dissipate as quickly). Vergil finishes and leaves.
No one looks his way. They so obviously avoid looking at V after those denunciations they all could hear that they may as well gawk at him like a feral cat that has wandered into this cafe of tamed, beloved creatures. His very clothes are at odds with the decor and everything about this place. A sore thumb, an open wound, an unwanted cast off. No matter that he understands Vergil's reaction and the hollowness of the insults, the sting thrums. V takes a sip of his tea and stubbornly remains. There is food to eat and a book to read. There are three cats who remain at his table.
He continues this facsimile of a life. He'll continue it until it becomes real.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
A return to the human world. They were not long party to the human world in V's time. Even a year later would be only a glimpse of azure and gold crocuses to the years under Mundus's control and what followed the demon king's death. He would hope Vergil would not be so eager to return, and what few glimpses into Vergil's life and behavior in Folkmore lent him faith. The man befriends cats, normal defenseless house cats. It's not the behavior of one about to conquer hell. The two images superimpose, and V waits to see if the image will grow clearer and unified.
He waits and shuts down any reaction on his part, either judgment or hope. Neither has a public place. The stuttering conversation will jar worse without further answer, but fortunately, Vergil opts to provide further context. What shifts in an hour, a day... It's all a moment.
Stopping Urizen and merging with him was only a necessary step, not the final one. It would rein in Urizen's ambitions and create the opportunity to finish what he started. The tree could not be allowed to stand and to regrow until another hungry demon hungers for its fruit. It's steps that extend beyond his life, beyond what V could do, and thus beyond his most pressing thoughts. That is someone else's problem. Vergil's. Not his. He nods in recognition.
"Someone would hurt that boy if he went to the Underworld," V muses. That line Vergil won't have crossed. Whether he was cognizant of the line at the time or not, V suspects its beginnings fostered. V wanted to be saved, and once saved, he imagines, Vergil could turn his attention to saving someone else. Not everyone, no, but his son.
V is glad that Dante is with Vergil. Being alone again so soon would have been bad, especially in that place. It's possible to be a loner who prefers his own company and benefit from the company of others. "No doubt our host picks and chooses when to make us her offer," V says, "so that the implied pressure of our situation provides all the push we need."
He smiles with teeth. "We're grateful for what we find."
no subject
"I do not care for what she claims to offer us one way or another," he says. In his youth, it would have been perhaps bravado to say as much. No doubt a part of him would have interpreted the promise of potential to be accessing the rest of his power or claiming the power of Sparda for himself. But he means it now. Vergil has no desire to reach for some greater potential while in this place. Whatever changes he may make about himself are for the people he loves, to be the man that they need and want him to be. It is by his choice, not some consequence of a trial. He continues, "My purpose in being here has only ever been to return to my son without needing to tear or exploit another hole in the barrier between the human world and the demonic.
"His unexpected presence here complicates the matter somewhat, but our aims are aligned and remain the same, as is true of Dante as well." And Vergil would rather that Nero somehow followed him to a place like this where there are so few threats to him than trailing after him into the demon world. Nero is strong and skilled within his own right, but he does not belong there. None of them really do as Vergil has come to realize. It was his father's home, but never his and he was foolish to ever believe he would find what he was looking for there. He stills his hand on the cat in his lap, and she does not seem to particularly mind. "The Fox will rob you of choice often, but you are not completely without it. You still have a choice over what you choose to do or not do in this place."
Vergil averts his gaze again as he adds, "More than you've likely known before now."
no subject
Vergil's complications are clear. Should he leave, he has no guarantee the fox will return him to the human world along that path he came here seeking. Instead he could wind up exactly where he began—separated from his son with no way back that does not grant demons a way to the human world. So why not instead have time with his son here, should it be all the time he can expect in the near future. Why cut that short? It is reason enough to stay.
Because foolish or not, V believes Vergil. It's not merely hoping Vergil can be believed. For reasons difficult to articulate, even to himself, V believes him. Not enough to turn a blind eye, should Vergil stumble, fall, or willfully cut away from that path right before him, but he suspects such difficulties will only be the natural consequences of taking the road less traveled by. May Vergil not prove V a fool.
That task belongs solely to V, what with the choices that stretch endlessly before him. There's no end to them. Though each choice cuts off others. It can be paralyzing and explains why so many people live by routine. The blessed peace of fewer decisions to make. V wants to live, but he does not know what that means now that he no longer focuses narrowly on the tasks that had been before him.
"It was a mistake to cut out your humanity, but I neither regret my existence nor complain of the paucity of choices it left me. As unusual and extraordinary as the challenges you have faced and I, we are not alone in facing difficulties. Thankfully or else the poetry in this book," V sets the precious volume on the table, "would mean nothing."
He pauses as tea and their muffins are brought to the table. Once the waitress leaves, V pours them each a cup. The cat he was petting comes closer and leans against his arm.
"I don't want your guilt," V says.
no subject
Similar, but certainly not the same. Just as they are.
"I do not feel guilt," Vergil snaps, his eyes lifting immediately from the book in a glare at V. His change in tone is enough so that the cat in his lap lifts her head from her relaxed position. "Whether it was a mistake or not does not matter. I made the choice to survive as I always have and always will. For what reason should I feel guilt or shame about that?"
no subject
V takes a sip of tea as a measure of time. Vergil's aggression and defensiveness do not mean V needs to rush his response. He even pets the cat who bonks her head against his arm a couple of more times as more demanding on his response than Vergil.
"You survived by tearing off your son's arm and have since sworn never to harm him again and seen to it that I swore the same," V states baldly, "You feel guilty as a father who harmed his son, no matter you did not know of or recognize him at the time."
The more obvious answer first. The undeniable one.
"You survived by cutting out part of yourself and leaving it to wither away and perish. You might have told yourself you do not feel guilty because that too was you, but now you must face it, face me, as separate from yourself.
"You can feel no guilt for surviving itself but also feel guilty for what it did."
Not to mention that in so doing, Vergil left his survival in the hands of such weakness he did not want. Yes, that weakness is as much him as the power, so again, it's easier to ignore such guilt when the only person he did that to is himself. It's not anymore. Not with V sitting here.
"Lying about it doesn't help." Gentle but firm.
no subject
"If you think for one moment that I intend to sit here and tolerate you speaking to me like this— You, the one whose consciousness ceases to be the moment you are returned to where you belong— You would have the gall to attempt dictating to me what I feel and accuse me of lying! You are sorely mistaken, if you really think I've any interest in partaking in any of that, let alone this pathetic facsimile of a life you so desperately cling to," he says, his gaze upon V cold and angry all the while he sputters. "I care not what becomes of you now any more than I did the day I excised you from me. You are nothing more to me now than you were then."
Vergil snatches Yamato from what it still rests against the table.
"Enjoy your tea. And your book," he spits before turning on his heel and making his way towards the door. Everyone in the Catfé very quickly turns their attention anywhere but towards V or Vergil.
no subject
No one looks his way. They so obviously avoid looking at V after those denunciations they all could hear that they may as well gawk at him like a feral cat that has wandered into this cafe of tamed, beloved creatures. His very clothes are at odds with the decor and everything about this place. A sore thumb, an open wound, an unwanted cast off. No matter that he understands Vergil's reaction and the hollowness of the insults, the sting thrums. V takes a sip of his tea and stubbornly remains. There is food to eat and a book to read. There are three cats who remain at his table.
He continues this facsimile of a life. He'll continue it until it becomes real.