(no subject)
Who: Vergil and Dracmon, ???
What: Vergil's expectations are proven right.
When: Sept. 28, late afternoon.
Where: Campsite, D'Ango forest.
Vergil was sitting beside a campfire in the forest. His coat was spread out beside him, with various books laid out on it. He hadn't left this campsite in almost a month. He had no need to, comfort was something that Vergil had given up on ages ago. He'd spent most of his life on the road, in conditions that were a hundred times harsher than the temperate weather that D'Ango forest provided. The campfire and his research was all that he needed to keep himself busy while he waited for Witchmon.
After the first week had passed without harassment, Vergil was somewhat surprised. He was used to being constantly beset by foes once he was discovered. Being able to continue his work unaccosted was a rare luxury. In the weeks that followed, Vergil had sketched, catalogued, and otherwise completely gone over every scrap of material that he'd been able to take out of the temple near Sanctity, all while constantly looking over his shoulder. It was the first time that Vergil could recall ever having the time to completely go over the contents of the ruins.
He'd been somewhat disappointed that nothing of worth stood out to him. Sure, the relics were priceless, but they held almost no use to him. Only the history contained within the murals might have any value for one such as him.
Dracmon had been kept busy serving as Vergil's assistant in that entire time. In between those periods of research, Vergil had kept him busy with training. When Vergil FINISHED his research, that simply meant that they had more time for training each day. On top of that, Dracmon was in charge of procuring his own food, drink, and entertainment for each day. He was getting stronger every day, but he was also getting bored out of his mind.
"Do you suppose she's going to come up with anything soon?" Dracmon asked Vergil as he tossed aside a bone that he'd finished stripping bare.
"She will be ready when she's ready," Vergil said with deliberate vagueness. "The weather's turning colder. Fall is coming."
Dracmon started to open his mouth to reply, but he stopped short and blinked. "What's that got to do with anything, Vergil?"
Vergil gave a quiet grunt as he began storing items away in his D-Reader once more, and he gave no further reply to his partner.
What: Vergil's expectations are proven right.
When: Sept. 28, late afternoon.
Where: Campsite, D'Ango forest.
Vergil was sitting beside a campfire in the forest. His coat was spread out beside him, with various books laid out on it. He hadn't left this campsite in almost a month. He had no need to, comfort was something that Vergil had given up on ages ago. He'd spent most of his life on the road, in conditions that were a hundred times harsher than the temperate weather that D'Ango forest provided. The campfire and his research was all that he needed to keep himself busy while he waited for Witchmon.
After the first week had passed without harassment, Vergil was somewhat surprised. He was used to being constantly beset by foes once he was discovered. Being able to continue his work unaccosted was a rare luxury. In the weeks that followed, Vergil had sketched, catalogued, and otherwise completely gone over every scrap of material that he'd been able to take out of the temple near Sanctity, all while constantly looking over his shoulder. It was the first time that Vergil could recall ever having the time to completely go over the contents of the ruins.
He'd been somewhat disappointed that nothing of worth stood out to him. Sure, the relics were priceless, but they held almost no use to him. Only the history contained within the murals might have any value for one such as him.
Dracmon had been kept busy serving as Vergil's assistant in that entire time. In between those periods of research, Vergil had kept him busy with training. When Vergil FINISHED his research, that simply meant that they had more time for training each day. On top of that, Dracmon was in charge of procuring his own food, drink, and entertainment for each day. He was getting stronger every day, but he was also getting bored out of his mind.
"Do you suppose she's going to come up with anything soon?" Dracmon asked Vergil as he tossed aside a bone that he'd finished stripping bare.
"She will be ready when she's ready," Vergil said with deliberate vagueness. "The weather's turning colder. Fall is coming."
Dracmon started to open his mouth to reply, but he stopped short and blinked. "What's that got to do with anything, Vergil?"
Vergil gave a quiet grunt as he began storing items away in his D-Reader once more, and he gave no further reply to his partner.