#devilbringing

[anapproachingstorm]

“ ... “

“ .. Dante you know damn well what a bra is you raging dumpster fire of a man .. “

[devilcrying]

@devilbringing​: "If polite, loving dinosaurs can meet their fiery ends, it makes you wonder what death has in store for us."

“Pretty bold of you to assume that I can die.”

[anapproachingstorm]

𝓢𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓡𝓲𝓭𝓮.. ₮₳₭Ɇ ł₮ Ɇ ₳ ₴ Ɏ

This was a bad idea. Point blank. No two ways about it. And that was saying something, seeing as Vergil was the current reigning king of dichotomy and patron saint of all things fickle. And yet~ And yet, there he stood, out of place in posture, dress, and attitude. The sun was out, and bright. He was too fair for that.. But he waited, all the same, on street corner Nero had previously demanded asked very very nicely that he meet her on. Like a glorified street walker.  Probably a good idea not to bring up sex work in the negative, his little conscious-voice muttered to him, and he had started to bitterly refer to that new nuisance as V.  “What’s the worst that can happen?” He asked himself, soft and low. “She’s bringing the van at least.” Oh. Oh you moron..

[anapproachingstorm]

“ ... You’re still angry about the whole ... arm thing ... aren’t you?”

[anapproachingstorm]

Take a shower! You smell like updog.

“Firstly, young lady, that’s rude. Secondly ... I don’t ... I ... “ 

-deeeeeeeeep sigh-

“What’s “updog?”“

[devilcrying]

@devilbringing​: “And I bet he's your only friend, too, with that fashion sense.” She pats his shoulder. “Up and at 'em, big guy. We got work to do. No use sitting on your ass.”

“You couldn’t have given me five more weeks? Ugh, zoomers these days...”

He rolls his shoulders and whips out the twins, Ebony and Ivory shimmering as he takes aim.

“Watch an’ learn.”

[devilcrying]

dante. dante if you can hear me, you've been in a coma for 10 years. tripp pants are no longer in style and myspace is dead.

“Excuse you. Tom is my best friend, and you’ll pry the studded pants from my cold, dead hands.”

[anapproachingstorm]

Sharing a nap.

More often than not, Vergil chased sleep. However, not unlike Pan chasing the flower nymphs, sleep evaded him. It was usually not until exhaustion was gripping his heart in an icy claw, that sleep took pity on him, and instead wrapped him in her comforting hug. He’d never admit it, but he truly wished that his relationship with sleep resolved itself, maybe even more than his relationship with food, or his own body.

So while it was a surprising sight to see, it was not exactly uncommon for Vergil to be found, napping. Dante would say that he ran the gambit between “Sleeping Beauty” and “Coma Patient,” though in this case, he fell someplace in-between. His features were relaxed and neutral, which was strange for him. His mouth no longer a hard line, his brow no longer furrowed in frustration or thought.

He had found a quiet couch in the shop, tucked away near a bookshelf, and what he was working on just before lay piled on the coffee table in front of him. His arms were crossed over his chest, gently rising and falling evenly, and Yamato was tucked into the crook of the arm nearest to the back of the couch.

It was in this form that Nero found her father.

She leaned against the back of the couch, quiet as a mouse, as she watched him sleep.

What compelled her to try what she did next, was behind her.

Dante’s over-stuffed, well-loved couch was deep, and Nero assumed it once had fluffy cushions that went along the back, but they were long gone, and the couch became something nearer to a day bed. Even so.. there was just enough room between Vergil’s side and the edge of the couch for a certain skinny girl to wiggler her way in..

If when he woke up, her father rejected her, that’d be one thing.. For now, though, Nero would steal what moments of tenderness she could, from the notoriously icy and prickly man. Nero thought about this, her head on his shoulder, and her body curled against the warmth of his, just before she closed her eyes..