[ Bloodied and battered they certainly are, between being on the receiving end of Caster's sword and shadowy magic and dodging the ensuing destruction of property, there was no way they would emerge entirely unscathed. They may have had the theoretical advantage, but Caster fought with their all, and to great effect.
They feel exhausted, almost to their very bones, and not so unlike the deeply-seated, utterly drained feeling they experienced after resurrecting Tala. Which, frankly, is not a sensation they anticipated ever experiencing again...
But they are a Servant. At some point in this war, they are going to die, lest they miraculously win - a feat that seems so far-flung, now. They were summoned here to fulfill a task, and it is either to win or die trying. But their Master— Vergil—
Vaer glances up at the sound of his voice from where they've found themself beside a pile of rubble (which they are very lucky to be where they are and not beneath it) with their Carpet of Flying draped uselessly and their Dancing Rapier on the ground nearby, both inanimate. With what little strength they have remaining, they push themself up at least to kneeling on one leg. ]
[The sound of their voice, the sight of them crouched just beside a collection of ruined rubble, the Carpet of Flying and the rapier now gone useless ā despite Vergilās battered state, feeling as though Mundus himself had gotten his hands on him again, adrenaline miraculously punches through his veins once more. Sets his nerves alight, makes him want to force his demonic energy into activating again so he can teleport directly beside his Servant.
And you know what? Despite barely having the energy to do so, he does. A blink, and his form shudders, and then heās there beside Vaer, blinking into existence. Then he, too, falls to his knees, gritting his teeth.]
Iāmā¦ fine.
[He is alive. He has been through worse, though probably barely at this point. This fight could have given Danteās thrashings a run for their money.]
Iā¦ [He finds his eyes whipping up, ice-blue gaze cutting towards Vaer with unyielding concern.] Can you stand?
[ The movement happens all too quickly for their tired eyes, and the unflinching way that they regard him as he suddenly appears beside them speaks to just how exhausted they are. Too tired to even properly react, save for the way they reach out with an arm to steady Vergil as he drops to his knees. Though truly, it's debatable - who is steadying who, here?
Regardless, their hand grasps at his shoulder, curling into the worn fabric of his coat with what little strength remains. ]
Hush, for a moment. I'm healing you.
[ Given how much the fight took out of them, it's not likely to be a particularly potent Cure Wounds spell, but an attempt is made. Better that only one of them is barely alive, and Vaer would rather see to Vergil's injuries than their own. ]
[Who's keeping who steady, indeed? Vergil is wobbling on bent knee when Vaer reaches out to steady him, and he can't help but thinkāredundantly, maybe, after such a battleāthat their grip feels so weak.
And then something is washing over him: a spell, some kind of magic, that undoes the surface level hurts marring his body every time he moves a limb. At first, and instinctively, itās a relief. But thatās very soon overtaken by a harrowed measure of concern, wondering what Vaer possibly has left in the tank to cast thisā
Vergil reaches out and grasps their wrist with his hand, as though to halt them.]
[ The grip of his hand presses into their wrist, effectively stemming the flow of magic. That healing energy dissipates and with it, the remainder of Vaer's spellcasting capability for the time being.
Drawing in a sharp breath, it's only then that Vaer finds the strength to meet Vergil's gaze, having up to this point fixed their own upon the injuries across his person, and... ah. That look of concern is harrowed, indeed, much more so than the look he'd leveled at them at the beach just days ago. The look that Vaer convinced themself meant nothing more than concern for his ticket to victory.
Something stings at their eyes, catches in their throat. But they blink it back, and swallow that feeling down. When was the last time someone had looked at them with such concern? And for them? Not for the person they thought was Tala, or Princess Qiel, or anyone else - but them, Vaer? Or... Is it concern for Rider?
I can't, they want to say. There's nothing left. Given the choice between healing themself and healing Vergil, however, the decision was easy. If Vergil wants them to heal themself now, then there's only one thing left to do. With their gaze falling to his lips, all they manage to offer is a quiet hum before they lean in and press their lips to his. ]
[Logically, it was the only route available to them. The only way that Vaer might recover from being wrung so dry, in this fight that nearly torn down the very warehouse they stand within, battling tooth and claw not just for victory, but for survival. The mana transfer that his Servant had teased him about now and again throughout their partnership has suddenly not become the topic of a joke but a very critical method of recovery. Perhaps the only way, at this point.
Logically, rationally. Empirically. And yet, when Vaer nears to press their lips against his own, none of those words really seem to apply.
His breath catches in his throat. Though his bodyās still weary and worn, itās hard not to hyperfixate on the sensation woven between them. Vaerās warm, his brain supplies, somewhat uselessly. Vaerās still here, something rawer than just conscious thought adds. His emotions, his heart, happy for them to still be at his side. Rejoicing at their victory, and grieving the injuries they had to obtain to earn it.
He closes his eyes. Leans in, deepens the kiss in turn. Allows it to linger as long as it needs, or as long as they both require.]
[ The kiss would linger as long as they both require, but not long after Vergil deepens the kiss - much to Vaer's surprise - they are pulling away. But just the slightest bit, and when they speak, still their lips brush against Vergil's. ]
...Master, I...
[ This is... necessary, for the Mana Transfer to take place. They shouldn't fool themself into thinking it could be anything more than that, despite the way that something inside of them is screaming for how Vergil's demeanor, his actions in this moment seem to carry something unspeakable within. It can't be. Not when they both have their selfish wishes to chase. Not when... Gods, Vergil has a son presumably waiting for him at home.
They... They should make this as painless for him as possible. ]
...Tell me who you want me to be. How I should look.
[ That should make this process easier more palatable, shouldn't it? Vergil can at least kiss who he would rather be kissing, whoever that may be, and Vaer can do what they do best: put on a mask, and be a means to an end. ]
[So close that their lips should still touch, even as they speak. And yet, if there is one thing that should make confusion flutter across Vergil's features, it's exactly what Vaer utters.
He pulls away an inch or two, just far enough to gaze down at them, to really look at Vaer as they appear right now. His eyes are questioning, brow pulled together.]
Why would I ask for you to look like anything other than how you wish to be?
[They nature of such a request brings him pause, just enough to dredge up a question so far untended to: does Vaer really think that kissing them should be such a trial that he'd insult them in such a way, especially after all they've spoken of, their exchange of memories?]
Does he truly understand what he's saying? They can't help but wonder. Vaer is a changeling, a being who can take on most any appearance imaginable if they simply will it to be. And for the longest time, they always had to be someone else. A good student at the college. A perfect double for Princess Qiel. And then because they did not know how to be their own self in a world devoid of Tala, they chose to become her. For the first time in a long time, Vaer could finally be themself, even if they don't really know what that means.
And here is someone who... accepts them as they are? I only require that you... be you. Vergil has seen what their early years wrought, how they were sculpted into the person before them now. And yet given the option for them to take on another's appearance, he simply requires that Vaer... be Vaer. Not Rider— Vaer.
With a quivering breath, they let go of the mask that they wear every single day. The transformation washes out their features all the more, their body gone blank, with the exception of the inkiness that creeps in beneath the lower lids of their eyes. Alabaster skin setting in a stark contrast between their dark clothing and the silver blood that bleeds out of them where they have been injured.
This is what it means, truly, for them to be them. Is this really what Vergil requires of them? ]
[He knows what he's saying. He thinks it is quite simple, uncomplicated, that he should ask Vaer to simply be who they truly are.
After all, is that not what he's expected from the start? They may take many forms, but the half-demon has never seen them as anything more than an unflagging companion in this war. The ability to wear many faces is not what defines them, it is but a trait that they wield with such finesse and ease that it adds to the merits they already possess ā and this, due to knowing the issue of identity and self it presented them in the past, only adds to a strength of character.
Perhaps he had the advantage of knowing only Vaer asā¦ Vaer. To never have expected them to playact as anyone else. And yet Vergil believes that even if this wasnāt the case, this moment would still crystallize down to the exact same request: he wants them as they are. Nothing more and nothing less than that.]
See?
[āhe utters after theyāve reverted into their true form, with a underlay of kindliness that so few ever hear from Vergil, even after having regained his humanity. Eyes sweep across their face, that alabaster appearance.]
āArt can never exist without naked beauty displayed.ā
[He quotes from someone, something. Right now, it doesnāt really matter.]
[ They watch as the usual steeliness of his gaze gives way to something irrefutably softer, warmer, kinder as it sweeps across their bare features, and a warmth arrests and twists at Vaer's heart at the very sight. It is so far removed from the gaze with which he greeted Vaer upon their summoning...
Humanity suits him, they think. That part of him that gave up his own existence to be reunited into the whole of Vergil did well - he looks beautiful, like this, letting himself lean into his heart when he once rent himself free of it.
Is this really okay? For a Servant to feel so strongly about their Master, and for a Master to feel this way in turn? The moment that Vergil recites Blake (which they only blessedly recognize because they are a Servant) they decide, too, that right now it doesn't really matter.
At length, with their face flushed in an almost lilac tone across their cheeks, all they can really say and do is to let his name pass breathlessly: ]
Vergil...
[ and to frame his face with their hands as they resume the kiss that they so foolishly cut off moments ago. ]
Edited (shakes fist at repetition) 2023-07-10 12:01 (UTC)
[What is there left to do, really, than to return the sentiment? It feels like a confirmation of a confirmation ā the seal of finality placed upon Vergilās answer, that of course he accepts Vaer as they are. Let this moment be the epitome of that answer, made manifest in a single gesture.
The kiss, once severed, presses warmly against his lips again, and Vergil does little more than deepen it, one hand trailing to rest just behind Vaerās shoulder blades, the other finding itself cupping the side of their face in turn.
Let the burgeoning mana, warm and healing, do its work. Gladly, happily, he ushers it into existence for Vaerās sake. But that reasonāwhile still wholly important for his tired, battered Servantāfeels all but secondary, now.]
[ Mana or no, Vaer soon finds themself lost in the press of their lips together, in Vergilās surprising warmth, and the touch of his hand at their back and on their face. It would be a meaningful, worthwhile moment even without the flow of magical energy from their Master, though thatās not to say that they donāt appreciate that aspect of it, too. Vaer has never had a kiss that trasnferred such energies like this, and the sensation is new and exciting in and of itself, even if itās not the most important part of this.
Just as Vergil accepts, wants Vaer as they are, so too does Vaer towards Vergil. Neither of them are perfect beings by any measure of the word. Both of them have made mistakes, have walked in the shadows for so long, only to now find themselves at those crossroads, perhaps feeling lost. But all of that is why Vaer has become so wholly drawn to him; though their worlds and their lives are so different, they have somehow found their paths crossing at this most opportune moment, and they have come to understand each other in a way that perhaps very few others wouldā¦
There really is little left to do at this juncture than to wind their arms around him atop his shoulders, pulling him closer into their arms as they deepen the kiss even further, parting their lips against his, seeking to taste him on their tongue. ]
[Like is drawn to like. There's plenty of poetry that Vergil could recite on the matter, how two souls drawn from similar circumstances, broken in similar ways, might find healing under each other's wings. And if not, at the very least they might find comfort in knowing that they are not alone.
This moment between them, mana or otherwise, is proof of art reflecting life to the fullest. Perhaps this is what he's been missing for so long, unwilling to grant himself anything like it during those dark years of his life. Not needing to accrue another "weakness", as he would see it, even if now, he truly understands the reality. What he and Vaer have, no matter how it's defined, can only ever make him feel stronger. His blade sharper, his abilities fiercer, bolstered by something truly worth fighting for.
How strange that he should find such a thing in the middle of a war, worlds and worlds away from his own. But, maybe, not so surprising at all, either.
Doesn't matter. Vaer parts their lips and Vergil is keen to do the same, indulging in each other's taste for as long as they can until either party needs to draw breath. His chest feels warm, his heart hammers behind it. It's almost as though they can't be close enough, and again, the idea of healing is all but secondary.]
[ And Vaer, for their part, has only ever longed for someone to look at them as they are - as they truly are - and wish to remain by their side all the same. The part of them that has pushed Tala away even as she walks once more among the living for fear of showing her just how much they changed in her absence, that found themself here has always been alone, and lost. Even in pursuing shallow friendships and carnal pleasures they have worn a mask in some form or fashion; but this is not true of what they and Vergil share, now. It needs not a label, or any definition. It only needs to be.
Even if their time together is short. Somewhere in the back of their mind dwells a thought, a knowing that realizes that soon the war will be but a party of three.
But that, too, doesnāt matter. Not when Vaer feels very much the same, like they cannot possibly close enough to sate the thunderous beating of their heart against his, to feel the warmth that they seek, that they need. Healing truly has become a far-flung idea by this point, and in its place is this nameless but wonderful sentiment that blooms between them even in the most desperate of times, one that is shadowed only by a need to breathe.
Though when that time comes, Vaer is reluctant to be anywhere but remaining close to him, and as such they only break the kiss in favor of pressing their forehead to his. The silence at first filled with the sound of them trying to catch their breath, but soon filled by a remark that Vaer is helpless against keeping to themself: ]
[(No, best not to dwell on the inevitability of war. At least not right now.)
At some point, they both need to draw breath, an unfortunate reality that becomes more agreeable knowing that neither Vaer nor himself feel the need to widen the space between them just yet. Their forehead gently meets his own, and their breath fans against his cheek with the retort.
And that makes Vergil laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly with the effort, though the actual sound rumbles in his chest more than anything else.]
I'm full of surprises. What a shame it'd be for you to think I'm dull and predictable, after all.
He is laughing. And what a sound that is, what warmth it brings to their battered body. As they remain pressed together like this, the rumble of it echoes in their own chest, and though they don't mirror his laugh with their own, there is an undeniable fondness with which Vaer rubs their nose against his. He really is full of surprises. ]
I think you've surprised me at every turn thus far.
[ From their surprise to his affinity for classical music and poetry, to what they saw in his memories, his surprisingly (and relatively) easy-going attitude at the beach, finding out that he has a son, and now this... ]
Though I don't think I could ever find you to be dull. You are an endlessly fascinating man, Vergil.
[ They catch his lips in another kiss. Maybe less so out of need or desperation this time, but simply because he's right here, in their arms, and they can. ]
[Far be it for him to complain about one more kiss. He meets it with ease, parting his lips to encourage Vaer to do the same, and though this one is brief, it incites no less warmth pulsing behind his ribs.
He thinks to himself, in the breadth of a passing half-second, how nice it would be to always have the opportunity to surprise Vaer.
And when he finally pulls away again, his smile has not faded.]
Then I think I'll keep it my priority to remain the object of your interest for as long as we remain together.
[ Their heart hasn't stopped beating like a storm in their chest for some time now, between the battle they'd just fought and now this, but this is a sort of impassioned moment that they vastly prefer over combat.
He wears a smile well. Perhaps his smile would only grow, now, as they unwind their arms from around him and lean just the slightest degree away so that they can press their hand to their chest and cast a healing spell on themself, now that mana runs through them once more. ]
...Oh? Your priority?
[ Their gaze flicks back up at him as the healing magic washes over their body, sealing their yet open wounds, brow quirked at his words. It's not as if they'd come to know Vergil as a shy man, but his confidence had thus far been placed in things like strength and fighting and slicing up fruits at the beach. To have it instead directed at them in this way takes their breath away, makes their heart swell with excitement, their lips slant into a grin. ]
And how do you intend to achieve that, Master? How are you going to hold my interest? My attention?
[He says, even his eyes wander to note the way Vaer heals themself, their wounds stitching together as injuries convalesce. Another wash of relief overcomes him, knowing they're truly recovering, even if the idea of healing had been temporarily secondary in the face of everything else.
Vergil isn't the sort that teases all too often, but he does make the effort to affect at... consideration, anyway.]
But should you grow tired of me in the future, what would spark that interest once more, I wonder? Music? More wine? [Leaning in slighty-] Maybe another kiss or two?
[ He's right, he does have Vaer fairly rapt at the moment. Though they had been engaged in their own respective fights up until this point, they were no doubt impressed and amazed by how he fought against Caster's master. This victory would not have come to fruition without his own strength and power.
Yet they appreciate his attempt at matching their wit with wit all the same, making no moves to shy away from his proximity as he leans in. ]
You've the right idea with any and all of those things, darling.
[ Unwilling to resist any longer, they avail of "another kiss or two" right there and then as the healing spell fizzles out. Oh, but it's entirely new to them, this feeling - that regardless of what takes place in this moment, they will wake tomorrow and still be here with Vergil. They will still be... Well, Master and Servant, but it's for the best not to think too hard about that arrangement at the moment and to simply focus back in on the feeling of his lips against theirs. ]
[Music and wine, then. Certainly on the right track. And "another kiss or two" just happens to be coming into play right now, and if he truly wanted to slip a quick quip in, he might say that with Vaer's clear eagerness, he's off to a good start so far.
But what do words matter? So very little in the face of one more kiss, pressing their lips together again, indulging in the simple fact that each other exist, theyāre there for each other, at least until the next day comes to pass. Thatās all that matters.
This one is no less impassioned as the ones before. If nothing else, the presence of mind bolstered by a healed body only allows him to taste them more deeply, bringing a hand up to rest gingerly against Vaerās neck. Yes, it would seem theyāre both feeling quite better now.
The next step would be to leave this dilapidated warehouse behind... but they can have this moment for a little bit.]
[ The press of his fingers against the back of their neck sparks a heat within them that truly dispels any remaining weariness from their battle with Caster and his Master. Vaer had always known Vergil to be a dangerous man, his severity and attitude and thirst for battle painting a very clear picture... But like this, he is dangerous in an entirely different way, and one that Vaer had not anticipated despite their constant teasing and flirting leading up to this point.
The kiss breaks before too long, however; Vaer isn't quite interested in continuing this out here, in the rubble, the aftermath of Caster's defeat still hanging heavily in the air around them. ]
...We should make our way back and rest...
[ ...Before they forget, entirely, that they are in the midst of a war that could spell their demise at any moment, especially enraptured as they are with one another out in the open like this. ]
[The kiss breaks, and it'll always feel too soon. But logic, eventually, has to creep in between the cracks of an impassioned moment, never mind how much either would like for it to stretch on and on and onā
He inhales, forces his awareness outward. The crumbled state of the warehouse. Proof of battle strewn around them. A war, still ongoing, stopping for no oneās amorous moments. Vaerās right. Vergil responds on the exhale.]
ā¦Youāre right.
[And so, finally, Vergil stands ā his body far less thrumming with pain and injury than only minutes before, and offers Vaer a hand up. The warmth and fondness still thriving, caged in his chest, has not left, though he might keep it reined in just enough to say-]
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They feel exhausted, almost to their very bones, and not so unlike the deeply-seated, utterly drained feeling they experienced after resurrecting Tala. Which, frankly, is not a sensation they anticipated ever experiencing again...
But they are a Servant. At some point in this war, they are going to die, lest they miraculously win - a feat that seems so far-flung, now. They were summoned here to fulfill a task, and it is either to win or die trying. But their Master— Vergil—
Vaer glances up at the sound of his voice from where they've found themself beside a pile of rubble (which they are very lucky to be where they are and not beneath it) with their Carpet of Flying draped uselessly and their Dancing Rapier on the ground nearby, both inanimate. With what little strength they have remaining, they push themself up at least to kneeling on one leg. ]
Vergil— You're hurt. C- Come here.
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And you know what? Despite barely having the energy to do so, he does. A blink, and his form shudders, and then heās there beside Vaer, blinking into existence. Then he, too, falls to his knees, gritting his teeth.]
Iāmā¦ fine.
[He is alive. He has been through worse, though probably barely at this point. This fight could have given Danteās thrashings a run for their money.]
Iā¦ [He finds his eyes whipping up, ice-blue gaze cutting towards Vaer with unyielding concern.] Can you stand?
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Regardless, their hand grasps at his shoulder, curling into the worn fabric of his coat with what little strength remains. ]
Hush, for a moment. I'm healing you.
[ Given how much the fight took out of them, it's not likely to be a particularly potent Cure Wounds spell, but an attempt is made. Better that only one of them is barely alive, and Vaer would rather see to Vergil's injuries than their own. ]
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And then something is washing over him: a spell, some kind of magic, that undoes the surface level hurts marring his body every time he moves a limb. At first, and instinctively, itās a relief. But thatās very soon overtaken by a harrowed measure of concern, wondering what Vaer possibly has left in the tank to cast thisā
Vergil reaches out and grasps their wrist with his hand, as though to halt them.]
Your wounds. See to them first.
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Drawing in a sharp breath, it's only then that Vaer finds the strength to meet Vergil's gaze, having up to this point fixed their own upon the injuries across his person, and... ah. That look of concern is harrowed, indeed, much more so than the look he'd leveled at them at the beach just days ago. The look that Vaer convinced themself meant nothing more than concern for his ticket to victory.
Something stings at their eyes, catches in their throat. But they blink it back, and swallow that feeling down. When was the last time someone had looked at them with such concern? And for them? Not for the person they thought was Tala, or Princess Qiel, or anyone else - but them, Vaer? Or... Is it concern for Rider?
I can't, they want to say. There's nothing left. Given the choice between healing themself and healing Vergil, however, the decision was easy. If Vergil wants them to heal themself now, then there's only one thing left to do. With their gaze falling to his lips, all they manage to offer is a quiet hum before they lean in and press their lips to his. ]
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Logically, rationally. Empirically. And yet, when Vaer nears to press their lips against his own, none of those words really seem to apply.
His breath catches in his throat. Though his bodyās still weary and worn, itās hard not to hyperfixate on the sensation woven between them. Vaerās warm, his brain supplies, somewhat uselessly. Vaerās still here, something rawer than just conscious thought adds. His emotions, his heart, happy for them to still be at his side. Rejoicing at their victory, and grieving the injuries they had to obtain to earn it.
He closes his eyes. Leans in, deepens the kiss in turn. Allows it to linger as long as it needs, or as long as they both require.]
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...Master, I...
[ This is... necessary, for the Mana Transfer to take place. They shouldn't fool themself into thinking it could be anything more than that, despite the way that something inside of them is screaming for how Vergil's demeanor, his actions in this moment seem to carry something unspeakable within. It can't be. Not when they both have their selfish wishes to chase. Not when... Gods, Vergil has a son presumably waiting for him at home.
They... They should make this as painless for him as possible. ]
...Tell me who you want me to be. How I should look.
[ That should make this process easier more palatable, shouldn't it? Vergil can at least kiss who he would rather be kissing, whoever that may be, and Vaer can do what they do best: put on a mask, and be a means to an end. ]
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He pulls away an inch or two, just far enough to gaze down at them, to really look at Vaer as they appear right now. His eyes are questioning, brow pulled together.]
Why would I ask for you to look like anything other than how you wish to be?
[They nature of such a request brings him pause, just enough to dredge up a question so far untended to: does Vaer really think that kissing them should be such a trial that he'd insult them in such a way, especially after all they've spoken of, their exchange of memories?]
Vaer. I only require that you... be you.
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Does he truly understand what he's saying? They can't help but wonder. Vaer is a changeling, a being who can take on most any appearance imaginable if they simply will it to be. And for the longest time, they always had to be someone else. A good student at the college. A perfect double for Princess Qiel. And then because they did not know how to be their own self in a world devoid of Tala, they chose to become her. For the first time in a long time, Vaer could finally be themself, even if they don't really know what that means.
And here is someone who... accepts them as they are? I only require that you... be you. Vergil has seen what their early years wrought, how they were sculpted into the person before them now. And yet given the option for them to take on another's appearance, he simply requires that Vaer... be Vaer. Not Rider— Vaer.
With a quivering breath, they let go of the mask that they wear every single day. The transformation washes out their features all the more, their body gone blank, with the exception of the inkiness that creeps in beneath the lower lids of their eyes. Alabaster skin setting in a stark contrast between their dark clothing and the silver blood that bleeds out of them where they have been injured.
This is what it means, truly, for them to be them. Is this really what Vergil requires of them? ]
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After all, is that not what he's expected from the start? They may take many forms, but the half-demon has never seen them as anything more than an unflagging companion in this war. The ability to wear many faces is not what defines them, it is but a trait that they wield with such finesse and ease that it adds to the merits they already possess ā and this, due to knowing the issue of identity and self it presented them in the past, only adds to a strength of character.
Perhaps he had the advantage of knowing only Vaer asā¦ Vaer. To never have expected them to playact as anyone else. And yet Vergil believes that even if this wasnāt the case, this moment would still crystallize down to the exact same request: he wants them as they are. Nothing more and nothing less than that.]
See?
[āhe utters after theyāve reverted into their true form, with a underlay of kindliness that so few ever hear from Vergil, even after having regained his humanity. Eyes sweep across their face, that alabaster appearance.]
āArt can never exist without naked beauty displayed.ā
[He quotes from someone, something. Right now, it doesnāt really matter.]
Perfect as you are.
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Humanity suits him, they think. That part of him that gave up his own existence to be reunited into the whole of Vergil did well - he looks beautiful, like this, letting himself lean into his heart when he once rent himself free of it.
Is this really okay? For a Servant to feel so strongly about their Master, and for a Master to feel this way in turn? The moment that Vergil recites Blake (which they only blessedly recognize because they are a Servant) they decide, too, that right now it doesn't really matter.
At length, with their face flushed in an almost lilac tone across their cheeks, all they can really say and do is to let his name pass breathlessly: ]
Vergil...
[ and to frame his face with their hands as they resume the kiss that they so foolishly cut off moments ago. ]
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The kiss, once severed, presses warmly against his lips again, and Vergil does little more than deepen it, one hand trailing to rest just behind Vaerās shoulder blades, the other finding itself cupping the side of their face in turn.
Let the burgeoning mana, warm and healing, do its work. Gladly, happily, he ushers it into existence for Vaerās sake. But that reasonāwhile still wholly important for his tired, battered Servantāfeels all but secondary, now.]
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Just as Vergil accepts, wants Vaer as they are, so too does Vaer towards Vergil. Neither of them are perfect beings by any measure of the word. Both of them have made mistakes, have walked in the shadows for so long, only to now find themselves at those crossroads, perhaps feeling lost. But all of that is why Vaer has become so wholly drawn to him; though their worlds and their lives are so different, they have somehow found their paths crossing at this most opportune moment, and they have come to understand each other in a way that perhaps very few others wouldā¦
There really is little left to do at this juncture than to wind their arms around him atop his shoulders, pulling him closer into their arms as they deepen the kiss even further, parting their lips against his, seeking to taste him on their tongue. ]
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This moment between them, mana or otherwise, is proof of art reflecting life to the fullest. Perhaps this is what he's been missing for so long, unwilling to grant himself anything like it during those dark years of his life. Not needing to accrue another "weakness", as he would see it, even if now, he truly understands the reality. What he and Vaer have, no matter how it's defined, can only ever make him feel stronger. His blade sharper, his abilities fiercer, bolstered by something truly worth fighting for.
How strange that he should find such a thing in the middle of a war, worlds and worlds away from his own. But, maybe, not so surprising at all, either.
Doesn't matter. Vaer parts their lips and Vergil is keen to do the same, indulging in each other's taste for as long as they can until either party needs to draw breath. His chest feels warm, his heart hammers behind it. It's almost as though they can't be close enough, and again, the idea of healing is all but secondary.]
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Even if their time together is short. Somewhere in the back of their mind dwells a thought, a knowing that realizes that soon the war will be but a party of three.
But that, too, doesnāt matter. Not when Vaer feels very much the same, like they cannot possibly close enough to sate the thunderous beating of their heart against his, to feel the warmth that they seek, that they need. Healing truly has become a far-flung idea by this point, and in its place is this nameless but wonderful sentiment that blooms between them even in the most desperate of times, one that is shadowed only by a need to breathe.
Though when that time comes, Vaer is reluctant to be anywhere but remaining close to him, and as such they only break the kiss in favor of pressing their forehead to his. The silence at first filled with the sound of them trying to catch their breath, but soon filled by a remark that Vaer is helpless against keeping to themself: ]
ā¦So you do know how to kiss a person.
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At some point, they both need to draw breath, an unfortunate reality that becomes more agreeable knowing that neither Vaer nor himself feel the need to widen the space between them just yet. Their forehead gently meets his own, and their breath fans against his cheek with the retort.
And that makes Vergil laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly with the effort, though the actual sound rumbles in his chest more than anything else.]
I'm full of surprises. What a shame it'd be for you to think I'm dull and predictable, after all.
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He is laughing. And what a sound that is, what warmth it brings to their battered body. As they remain pressed together like this, the rumble of it echoes in their own chest, and though they don't mirror his laugh with their own, there is an undeniable fondness with which Vaer rubs their nose against his. He really is full of surprises. ]
I think you've surprised me at every turn thus far.
[ From their surprise to his affinity for classical music and poetry, to what they saw in his memories, his surprisingly (and relatively) easy-going attitude at the beach, finding out that he has a son, and now this... ]
Though I don't think I could ever find you to be dull. You are an endlessly fascinating man, Vergil.
[ They catch his lips in another kiss. Maybe less so out of need or desperation this time, but simply because he's right here, in their arms, and they can. ]
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He thinks to himself, in the breadth of a passing half-second, how nice it would be to always have the opportunity to surprise Vaer.
And when he finally pulls away again, his smile has not faded.]
Then I think I'll keep it my priority to remain the object of your interest for as long as we remain together.
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He wears a smile well. Perhaps his smile would only grow, now, as they unwind their arms from around him and lean just the slightest degree away so that they can press their hand to their chest and cast a healing spell on themself, now that mana runs through them once more. ]
...Oh? Your priority?
[ Their gaze flicks back up at him as the healing magic washes over their body, sealing their yet open wounds, brow quirked at his words. It's not as if they'd come to know Vergil as a shy man, but his confidence had thus far been placed in things like strength and fighting and slicing up fruits at the beach. To have it instead directed at them in this way takes their breath away, makes their heart swell with excitement, their lips slant into a grin. ]
And how do you intend to achieve that, Master? How are you going to hold my interest? My attention?
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[He says, even his eyes wander to note the way Vaer heals themself, their wounds stitching together as injuries convalesce. Another wash of relief overcomes him, knowing they're truly recovering, even if the idea of healing had been temporarily secondary in the face of everything else.
Vergil isn't the sort that teases all too often, but he does make the effort to affect at... consideration, anyway.]
But should you grow tired of me in the future, what would spark that interest once more, I wonder? Music? More wine? [Leaning in slighty-] Maybe another kiss or two?
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Yet they appreciate his attempt at matching their wit with wit all the same, making no moves to shy away from his proximity as he leans in. ]
You've the right idea with any and all of those things, darling.
[ Unwilling to resist any longer, they avail of "another kiss or two" right there and then as the healing spell fizzles out. Oh, but it's entirely new to them, this feeling - that regardless of what takes place in this moment, they will wake tomorrow and still be here with Vergil. They will still be... Well, Master and Servant, but it's for the best not to think too hard about that arrangement at the moment and to simply focus back in on the feeling of his lips against theirs. ]
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But what do words matter? So very little in the face of one more kiss, pressing their lips together again, indulging in the simple fact that each other exist, theyāre there for each other, at least until the next day comes to pass. Thatās all that matters.
This one is no less impassioned as the ones before. If nothing else, the presence of mind bolstered by a healed body only allows him to taste them more deeply, bringing a hand up to rest gingerly against Vaerās neck. Yes, it would seem theyāre both feeling quite better now.
The next step would be to leave this dilapidated warehouse behind... but they can have this moment for a little bit.]
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The kiss breaks before too long, however; Vaer isn't quite interested in continuing this out here, in the rubble, the aftermath of Caster's defeat still hanging heavily in the air around them. ]
...We should make our way back and rest...
[ ...Before they forget, entirely, that they are in the midst of a war that could spell their demise at any moment, especially enraptured as they are with one another out in the open like this. ]
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He inhales, forces his awareness outward. The crumbled state of the warehouse. Proof of battle strewn around them. A war, still ongoing, stopping for no oneās amorous moments. Vaerās right. Vergil responds on the exhale.]
ā¦Youāre right.
[And so, finally, Vergil stands ā his body far less thrumming with pain and injury than only minutes before, and offers Vaer a hand up. The warmth and fondness still thriving, caged in his chest, has not left, though he might keep it reined in just enough to say-]
Letās leave here.