And another edition to the Suburban Sparda Family saga.
Title: First Day of Summer School
Characters: Vergil, Dante, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Tilmitt, Knives, Balthier, and Fran's silhouette, reference to L/Ryuzaki
Year: Fifteen
Location(s): Family neighborhood, then Estersand Elementary (yes, I went there)
Summary: Vergil is a studious young boy, and taking summer school classes to advance through school far more quickly. Dante mocks, frames, gets them both grounded, Vergil makes a new potential BFF when he finally gets to the school.
Notes: Obviously this is extreme AU. Reference here
“S’not supposed to work like that, Verg.”
It was pointed out matter-of-factly. Enough so that the well-dressed young man with thin framed glasses found himself stopping and shifting around to look pointedly at his perfect contrast that tailed behind him as a shambling mess of a black band t-shirt and messy jeans. Where the teenager in the lead had finely pressed clothes with his hair styled softly with just a few small strands fluttering across his forehead, his brother was such a complete mess, from his clothes down to the mop of white that flopped over his face like a curtain. “Do you intend to heckle me all day, Dante, or are you going to go home so mom can take you to the salon?”
“Salons are for girls,” Dante replied. His hands busily unwrapped a red tootsie-roll pop that had just been tugged free from his right pocket. “Besides, someone’s gotta be a voice’a reason to tell you you’re doin’ it wrong.”
“Doing what wrong, precisely?” Vergil snapped as he folded his arms over his chest. He was so unamused, though that slowly wiping from his face as Dante chomped down on his lollipop.
“It’s summer,” Dante replied, oblivious to his twin’s visibly growing amusement. “Y’don’t go to school in the summer, Verg.”
“You know who you look like?”
It figured that Vergil would completely deviate from the point like the batshit little… “Who?” Dante asked as both his hands were pushed into his pockets. His shoulders sank a little more in posture, and he shook his hair free from his face just enough to watch Vergil.
Vergil, who looked very, very pleased with himself. “You look like that creepy Ryuzaki guy that was playing teacher’s pet at the end of my term in English several weeks ago.”
Having heard of and personally seen the individual Vergil was referring to had Dante letting out a sound of shock and disgust as he spit the lollipop out and lifted his hands up into the air. His posture straightened, reminiscent of training from their mother and father in times long passed, training that Dante consequently forgot the moment he entered Kindergarten. “I do not, you fuck,” he said with eyes broad.
“You do, you do,” Vergil said with wag of his finger. “You should stop that, or next thing you’ll know, you’ll be going to school on a regular basis, and maybe even end up doing your homework nightly.”
“Tch.” The sound escaped Dante’s mouth in a small burst, before he tilted his head away and closed his eyes. His shoulders straightened a bit more with his intake of air, cocky and obviously leading to something. Vergil had been alive as long as Dante, and had to put up with the brat for just as long, and he knew, he knew-- “Well,” Dante said. His lips popped against one another; he didn’t bother to look in Vergil’s direction. “I guess I’ll just have to go blow some of your shit up today while you’re at summer school economics class.”
A huge smile broke out on Dante’s face, as he turned around on his heel. Vergil’s eyes were the ones to widen that time, since no threat of Dante’s was idle. “You better not--Dante!”
It was too late. Dante was already taking off down the street for their house, from where he’d been following Vergil the moment he left the front door. They were at the end of the block, so it wasn’t too far away, but at the same time… Dante was a skinny shit, more aerodynamic, Vergil insisted. With an exasperated clacking of his teeth, Vergil shoved his bookbag to the ground to take off after his brother. He heard several things snapping and cracking within the bag, but as long as it wasn’t his TI calculator, Vergil figured he could survive. “Get back here! Goddamn it, Dante!”
Dante soon disappeared behind the wall of hedges that their parents had nursed up well above the housing society’s preferences (there was a strict four-feet rule, but the Sparda family’s hedge-fence had to have been nearly double that), and soon so did Vergil.
And just as both boys disappeared, another emerged. A little younger than Dante, the brown haired boy watched to make sure both were completely out of sight. After assuring they were, he skittered towards the bag on the ground in his oversized jacket and cowboy hat. Irvine Kinneas: only thirteen years old, and he had already been hauled home to his parents on a number of occasions for being caught with pornographic magazines. How he came to obtain them, he never bothered to say.
His lookout was the younger-yet Selphie Tilmitt. They were virtually an inseparable duo since they met in preschool, and she was just as mischievous as he. While she had no material violations under her belt, it was rumored that she was his supplier via her live-in cousins. “Hurry up, Irvy!” she whispered. “We get caught, Dante won’t pay us!”
“I’m hurryin’, I’m hurryin’ Sephie!” he insisted. His hands throttled open the bag’s zipper quickly, before disappearing underneath the large jacket that dragged on the ground but Irvine wore anyway, even in the summer heat. “Just keep watching!”
The sound of glass breaking in the remote direction of the Sparda household caused Selphie to cringe. “I don’t think we need to worry about his brother,” she said as she bounced nervously.
“Jeez, they’re so noisy.” It was said offhand as Irvine stuffed several magazines in between Vergil’s many books obtained for the summer classes he intended to attend. The magazines were as crude in nature as Selphie could find, just as Dante requested of them. They were going to get ten bucks each out of it all, so neither complained. They heard Dante was good on his word!
After assuring the magazines were in just right, the bag was sealed, tossed to the side, and Irvine hopped to his feet and sprinted towards Selphie. “Come on!” he said, grabbing her hand and tugging her quickly. She responded with a yelp as she was tugged, only casting one glance back before they rounded the corner to see Vergil coming into view once more.
And did Vergil ever look disheveled. He broke a window trying to kill his brother, and just as he got his hands on the bastard, their father had come in and separated them, and promptly grounded them each. It was a bit a half-hearted grounding, as though the elder demon was more than certain that neither boy would listen to him. Vergil knew, however, that if either disobeyed his order and was caught, he’d invoke the wrath of their mother. She didn’t play around. Of course, Dante wasn’t blessed with the gift of foresight as Vergil was, and lacked the ability to recognize that before he screwed up and ended up getting her on his ass.
Vergil would behave. He possessed the ability to behave where Dante did not. He did, and when he did decide to misbehave, he was usually better at concealing it. Many’a time had he beaten his brother bloody and never gotten caught. That was another charm of having the ability to heal as quickly as they did from their father.
The school used for the summer school courses was actually the nearby elementary school, which made no sense to Vergil whatsoever. He doubted there was going to be any accommodations for the high school students, and while Vergil and Dante had hardly hit their growing spurts since when they first left middle school, Vergil knew very well they were significantly larger than most sixth graders. However, Vergil wouldn’t fault the failing public school system. Not at all. He faulted Dante, who was the reason they couldn’t use the high school. Him and his entourage, who held the Al Bhed club hostage so that they could blow the sanitation system underneath the seven massive buildings that made up the monster high school. It was a biohazard zone, and there were even jokes about the waste having caused zombies (there were a few individuals that found none of that very funny).
Estersand Elementary was so tiny compared to how Vergil remembered it, and while he knew in the back of his mind that it was because he was fifteen years old, and not a child any longer, it still was amazing how it felt. The classrooms, the lockers (there were actual lockers afforded to the students in more advanced classes)… everything was so tiny. It was going to be a very, very uncomfortable two and a half weeks.
Entering the classroom that was assigned to the summer economics course, Vergil was quick to observe the individuals in the class. There weren’t many, but most of them were older than he. Most of them, as well, were friends with his brother. Vergil’s face recognition was superb, and allowed him to remember everyone he met in some way, shape or form. About the only one that looked remotely like he did was a blond teenaged boy that sat towards the edge of the room with a disgruntled look on his face. Vergil wondered if it was at being there, at first, but when the teen glanced in disgust at the cheerleader (who looked to be about sixteen) and one of the filthy eighteen-year-old runts that Dante often was found with, pawing over one another, Vergil easily deduced it was the others.
That was promising, he figured, as he started over in that direction. Vergil wasn’t a particularly social boy on an average basis, but if he saw someone who could be potentially easy to get along with, he tried to make good use of it. At least in class.
The teen seemed to acknowledge Vergil’s equal potential as Vergil strode over and he straightened himself in the tiny seat. He was smaller than Vergil, but Vergil, as he got closer, realized he had seen him passing into classes of Vergil’s level during the school year, so he had to be around Vergil’s age.
Vergil nodded to him as he sat down in the seat beside the blond boy in the next row. The teen’s response was, over fingers laced together, “Vergil Sparda.” Vergil looked at him, a bit stunned at his name being known. The boy simply chuckled and released his fingers from one another to turn in his seat to Vergil. “Don’t be so surprised, Vergil, everyone knows who you are, Mr. Number One.”
“And who might you be?” Vergil asked. He knew that tone. Tone of competition, and it made his eyes narrow in amusement, equal to the other beside him.
“Knives Saverem. You know, the guy who’s going to take your place.”
Knives Saverem. “I see,” Vergil replied, grinning just slightly. “Mr. Number Two. So, you’re the one always a point behind me.”
“Just wait,” Knives replied, his smile growing all the more impish. “That private boys’ school across town just shut down, so guess where they’re sending them.”
Sadly, that was good news to the ever-studious elder twin. Challenges were appreciated, and while he didn’t realize that boy was Knives Saverem, the second in their class that had successfully stolen first on several occasions in their freshmen year, Knives had proven to give him a run for his money on more than one occasion.
Vergil went to respond, when another individual entered the classroom: a tall man, probably in his mid to late twenties with short brown hair, and a rather elaborate outfit on. He had a cocky swagger to his walk as he strode from the door to the front of the classroom, and he reminded Vergil of one of those weird sky pirates they often learned about from across the world in history class. “I’ll be home later. Man the helm without me,” he said with a passive wave to someone outside the door.
Vergil’s eyes hit the door just as whomever the teacher was speaking to crossed by to leave, and Vergil jerked slightly at the silhouette of what looked like a woman… with rabbit ears? No, that couldn’t be right, and he was facepalming in a literal sense when Knives looked over with a furrowed brow. “Are you alright, Vergil?”
“I think I just had a Donnie Darko moment,” Vergil muttered.
“Alright, children,” the man said. He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers, ringed with multiple colored bands, in the direction of the cesspool of unintelligence hovering in the middle and back of the classroom. “Let us focus. I don’t wish to be here any more than the lot of you, and yet here I am.” He quirked an eyebrow at Vergil and Knives, and added as an aside, “Except for you two.”
He clucked his tongue and waved the rest of the attendants of the class forward. They obliged begrudgingly, but did so nonetheless. The teacher seemed both unimpressed and as though he could care less about whether or not they wanted to be there. Misery loves company, Vergil assumed. At least he looked mildly intelligent.
“The name is Balthier,” the teacher continued. “Not Mr. Balthier, not anything in that sort. If you must call me by some official title, I respond well to Your Highness.”
“Why is it that you’re here if you don’t wish to be, Balthier?” Knives asked as he folded his hands together atop the desk.
It was nice to learn that Balthier was frank, as he waved a passive hand in the air once more. “Oh, they believe me to have some associations with what occurred at the high school and the sewage system, that led to the theft of several artifacts in the school’s trophy building.” A finger waved in the air. “Do I look the sort? Like a meager thief that would use such crude antics to obtain treasure?”
“No, but you’re kind of cute,” the cheerleader giggled out as she leaned over her desk, with her rear sticking up in the face of her appreciative flirting partner from prior.
Balthier eyed her for a moment, before responding, “I know, child, but I don’t reciprocate. So, if you’ll be so kind as to lower your underaged self into your seat appropriately, I believe we can get this started.”
The crude cesspool of ignorance groaned and moaned as they went to obey, to which Balthier was rolling his eyes. “Yes, complain all you wish, but if you’re good little children, I just may award you all with a trek out to the playground. Just please, I beg of you.” And with that, his eyes fell open an overweight young man. “Try not to get stuck in anything.”
Characters: Vergil, Dante, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Tilmitt, Knives, Balthier, and Fran's silhouette, reference to L/Ryuzaki
Year: Fifteen
Location(s): Family neighborhood, then Estersand Elementary (yes, I went there)
Summary: Vergil is a studious young boy, and taking summer school classes to advance through school far more quickly. Dante mocks, frames, gets them both grounded, Vergil makes a new potential BFF when he finally gets to the school.
Notes: Obviously this is extreme AU. Reference here
“S’not supposed to work like that, Verg.”
It was pointed out matter-of-factly. Enough so that the well-dressed young man with thin framed glasses found himself stopping and shifting around to look pointedly at his perfect contrast that tailed behind him as a shambling mess of a black band t-shirt and messy jeans. Where the teenager in the lead had finely pressed clothes with his hair styled softly with just a few small strands fluttering across his forehead, his brother was such a complete mess, from his clothes down to the mop of white that flopped over his face like a curtain. “Do you intend to heckle me all day, Dante, or are you going to go home so mom can take you to the salon?”
“Salons are for girls,” Dante replied. His hands busily unwrapped a red tootsie-roll pop that had just been tugged free from his right pocket. “Besides, someone’s gotta be a voice’a reason to tell you you’re doin’ it wrong.”
“Doing what wrong, precisely?” Vergil snapped as he folded his arms over his chest. He was so unamused, though that slowly wiping from his face as Dante chomped down on his lollipop.
“It’s summer,” Dante replied, oblivious to his twin’s visibly growing amusement. “Y’don’t go to school in the summer, Verg.”
“You know who you look like?”
It figured that Vergil would completely deviate from the point like the batshit little… “Who?” Dante asked as both his hands were pushed into his pockets. His shoulders sank a little more in posture, and he shook his hair free from his face just enough to watch Vergil.
Vergil, who looked very, very pleased with himself. “You look like that creepy Ryuzaki guy that was playing teacher’s pet at the end of my term in English several weeks ago.”
Having heard of and personally seen the individual Vergil was referring to had Dante letting out a sound of shock and disgust as he spit the lollipop out and lifted his hands up into the air. His posture straightened, reminiscent of training from their mother and father in times long passed, training that Dante consequently forgot the moment he entered Kindergarten. “I do not, you fuck,” he said with eyes broad.
“You do, you do,” Vergil said with wag of his finger. “You should stop that, or next thing you’ll know, you’ll be going to school on a regular basis, and maybe even end up doing your homework nightly.”
“Tch.” The sound escaped Dante’s mouth in a small burst, before he tilted his head away and closed his eyes. His shoulders straightened a bit more with his intake of air, cocky and obviously leading to something. Vergil had been alive as long as Dante, and had to put up with the brat for just as long, and he knew, he knew-- “Well,” Dante said. His lips popped against one another; he didn’t bother to look in Vergil’s direction. “I guess I’ll just have to go blow some of your shit up today while you’re at summer school economics class.”
A huge smile broke out on Dante’s face, as he turned around on his heel. Vergil’s eyes were the ones to widen that time, since no threat of Dante’s was idle. “You better not--Dante!”
It was too late. Dante was already taking off down the street for their house, from where he’d been following Vergil the moment he left the front door. They were at the end of the block, so it wasn’t too far away, but at the same time… Dante was a skinny shit, more aerodynamic, Vergil insisted. With an exasperated clacking of his teeth, Vergil shoved his bookbag to the ground to take off after his brother. He heard several things snapping and cracking within the bag, but as long as it wasn’t his TI calculator, Vergil figured he could survive. “Get back here! Goddamn it, Dante!”
Dante soon disappeared behind the wall of hedges that their parents had nursed up well above the housing society’s preferences (there was a strict four-feet rule, but the Sparda family’s hedge-fence had to have been nearly double that), and soon so did Vergil.
And just as both boys disappeared, another emerged. A little younger than Dante, the brown haired boy watched to make sure both were completely out of sight. After assuring they were, he skittered towards the bag on the ground in his oversized jacket and cowboy hat. Irvine Kinneas: only thirteen years old, and he had already been hauled home to his parents on a number of occasions for being caught with pornographic magazines. How he came to obtain them, he never bothered to say.
His lookout was the younger-yet Selphie Tilmitt. They were virtually an inseparable duo since they met in preschool, and she was just as mischievous as he. While she had no material violations under her belt, it was rumored that she was his supplier via her live-in cousins. “Hurry up, Irvy!” she whispered. “We get caught, Dante won’t pay us!”
“I’m hurryin’, I’m hurryin’ Sephie!” he insisted. His hands throttled open the bag’s zipper quickly, before disappearing underneath the large jacket that dragged on the ground but Irvine wore anyway, even in the summer heat. “Just keep watching!”
The sound of glass breaking in the remote direction of the Sparda household caused Selphie to cringe. “I don’t think we need to worry about his brother,” she said as she bounced nervously.
“Jeez, they’re so noisy.” It was said offhand as Irvine stuffed several magazines in between Vergil’s many books obtained for the summer classes he intended to attend. The magazines were as crude in nature as Selphie could find, just as Dante requested of them. They were going to get ten bucks each out of it all, so neither complained. They heard Dante was good on his word!
After assuring the magazines were in just right, the bag was sealed, tossed to the side, and Irvine hopped to his feet and sprinted towards Selphie. “Come on!” he said, grabbing her hand and tugging her quickly. She responded with a yelp as she was tugged, only casting one glance back before they rounded the corner to see Vergil coming into view once more.
And did Vergil ever look disheveled. He broke a window trying to kill his brother, and just as he got his hands on the bastard, their father had come in and separated them, and promptly grounded them each. It was a bit a half-hearted grounding, as though the elder demon was more than certain that neither boy would listen to him. Vergil knew, however, that if either disobeyed his order and was caught, he’d invoke the wrath of their mother. She didn’t play around. Of course, Dante wasn’t blessed with the gift of foresight as Vergil was, and lacked the ability to recognize that before he screwed up and ended up getting her on his ass.
Vergil would behave. He possessed the ability to behave where Dante did not. He did, and when he did decide to misbehave, he was usually better at concealing it. Many’a time had he beaten his brother bloody and never gotten caught. That was another charm of having the ability to heal as quickly as they did from their father.
The school used for the summer school courses was actually the nearby elementary school, which made no sense to Vergil whatsoever. He doubted there was going to be any accommodations for the high school students, and while Vergil and Dante had hardly hit their growing spurts since when they first left middle school, Vergil knew very well they were significantly larger than most sixth graders. However, Vergil wouldn’t fault the failing public school system. Not at all. He faulted Dante, who was the reason they couldn’t use the high school. Him and his entourage, who held the Al Bhed club hostage so that they could blow the sanitation system underneath the seven massive buildings that made up the monster high school. It was a biohazard zone, and there were even jokes about the waste having caused zombies (there were a few individuals that found none of that very funny).
Estersand Elementary was so tiny compared to how Vergil remembered it, and while he knew in the back of his mind that it was because he was fifteen years old, and not a child any longer, it still was amazing how it felt. The classrooms, the lockers (there were actual lockers afforded to the students in more advanced classes)… everything was so tiny. It was going to be a very, very uncomfortable two and a half weeks.
Entering the classroom that was assigned to the summer economics course, Vergil was quick to observe the individuals in the class. There weren’t many, but most of them were older than he. Most of them, as well, were friends with his brother. Vergil’s face recognition was superb, and allowed him to remember everyone he met in some way, shape or form. About the only one that looked remotely like he did was a blond teenaged boy that sat towards the edge of the room with a disgruntled look on his face. Vergil wondered if it was at being there, at first, but when the teen glanced in disgust at the cheerleader (who looked to be about sixteen) and one of the filthy eighteen-year-old runts that Dante often was found with, pawing over one another, Vergil easily deduced it was the others.
That was promising, he figured, as he started over in that direction. Vergil wasn’t a particularly social boy on an average basis, but if he saw someone who could be potentially easy to get along with, he tried to make good use of it. At least in class.
The teen seemed to acknowledge Vergil’s equal potential as Vergil strode over and he straightened himself in the tiny seat. He was smaller than Vergil, but Vergil, as he got closer, realized he had seen him passing into classes of Vergil’s level during the school year, so he had to be around Vergil’s age.
Vergil nodded to him as he sat down in the seat beside the blond boy in the next row. The teen’s response was, over fingers laced together, “Vergil Sparda.” Vergil looked at him, a bit stunned at his name being known. The boy simply chuckled and released his fingers from one another to turn in his seat to Vergil. “Don’t be so surprised, Vergil, everyone knows who you are, Mr. Number One.”
“And who might you be?” Vergil asked. He knew that tone. Tone of competition, and it made his eyes narrow in amusement, equal to the other beside him.
“Knives Saverem. You know, the guy who’s going to take your place.”
Knives Saverem. “I see,” Vergil replied, grinning just slightly. “Mr. Number Two. So, you’re the one always a point behind me.”
“Just wait,” Knives replied, his smile growing all the more impish. “That private boys’ school across town just shut down, so guess where they’re sending them.”
Sadly, that was good news to the ever-studious elder twin. Challenges were appreciated, and while he didn’t realize that boy was Knives Saverem, the second in their class that had successfully stolen first on several occasions in their freshmen year, Knives had proven to give him a run for his money on more than one occasion.
Vergil went to respond, when another individual entered the classroom: a tall man, probably in his mid to late twenties with short brown hair, and a rather elaborate outfit on. He had a cocky swagger to his walk as he strode from the door to the front of the classroom, and he reminded Vergil of one of those weird sky pirates they often learned about from across the world in history class. “I’ll be home later. Man the helm without me,” he said with a passive wave to someone outside the door.
Vergil’s eyes hit the door just as whomever the teacher was speaking to crossed by to leave, and Vergil jerked slightly at the silhouette of what looked like a woman… with rabbit ears? No, that couldn’t be right, and he was facepalming in a literal sense when Knives looked over with a furrowed brow. “Are you alright, Vergil?”
“I think I just had a Donnie Darko moment,” Vergil muttered.
“Alright, children,” the man said. He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers, ringed with multiple colored bands, in the direction of the cesspool of unintelligence hovering in the middle and back of the classroom. “Let us focus. I don’t wish to be here any more than the lot of you, and yet here I am.” He quirked an eyebrow at Vergil and Knives, and added as an aside, “Except for you two.”
He clucked his tongue and waved the rest of the attendants of the class forward. They obliged begrudgingly, but did so nonetheless. The teacher seemed both unimpressed and as though he could care less about whether or not they wanted to be there. Misery loves company, Vergil assumed. At least he looked mildly intelligent.
“The name is Balthier,” the teacher continued. “Not Mr. Balthier, not anything in that sort. If you must call me by some official title, I respond well to Your Highness.”
“Why is it that you’re here if you don’t wish to be, Balthier?” Knives asked as he folded his hands together atop the desk.
It was nice to learn that Balthier was frank, as he waved a passive hand in the air once more. “Oh, they believe me to have some associations with what occurred at the high school and the sewage system, that led to the theft of several artifacts in the school’s trophy building.” A finger waved in the air. “Do I look the sort? Like a meager thief that would use such crude antics to obtain treasure?”
“No, but you’re kind of cute,” the cheerleader giggled out as she leaned over her desk, with her rear sticking up in the face of her appreciative flirting partner from prior.
Balthier eyed her for a moment, before responding, “I know, child, but I don’t reciprocate. So, if you’ll be so kind as to lower your underaged self into your seat appropriately, I believe we can get this started.”
The crude cesspool of ignorance groaned and moaned as they went to obey, to which Balthier was rolling his eyes. “Yes, complain all you wish, but if you’re good little children, I just may award you all with a trek out to the playground. Just please, I beg of you.” And with that, his eyes fell open an overweight young man. “Try not to get stuck in anything.”