Cain and Abel [log]
Who: Dante [stylishflair] and Vergil [yamato_devil]
Where: Devil May Cry.
When: 7:30pm, Christmas Day (after this thread)
Summary: Dante's got a secret to share, and Vergil's just plain pissed. Christmas as usual, then.
Notes: Hooray for IC explanations for Sparda being gone? ^^; Read and comment? (Also, set after Misha and Rakka move into the shop. Whenever we get that log finished. D:)
Walking into the shop, Dante closed the door after them, turning to face his brother. ...maybe I should've thought about it some more, he mused mentally, crossing the room and kneeling before the heater, flicking the switch to set it to heat up the room. I guess it's too late to second-guess now. And... I couldn't have kept it from him for that long. Shoving his hand in his pocket, he produced a crumpled piece of paper, glancing away as he held it out to his brother.
"Found it on my desk this morning," he broke the uneasy silence, looking around the cheerily-decorated shop. The injuries he'd sustained had been his own fault, had been because he wasn't concentrating; he never should've had so much trouble with demons, never should've genuinely forgotten to bring his sword. "Merry fucking Christmas."
Realistically, the elder twin should have known that there was something seriously wrong when his brother had been out at work on Christmas morning, as usually all through Christmas he tended to get as drunk as possible and generally avoid work like the plague. Not that demons usually attacked during Christmas, it wasn't their style, there were simply too many humans around to make it worth their while. Now, he was beginning to feel increasingly uncomfortable as he took the note from him, not missing the somber tone that had overtaken his voice. Perhaps I am thinking into this too much, it is possible that Dante simply wasn't in the mood to go out on a drinking binge tonight… no, now I'm thinking about it too much, Dante never stays sober on Christmas, even if he doesn't get blind drunk, he's at least tipsy by now. Something is wrong.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he turned his attention to the note, reading it and re-reading it as what little colour there was drained from his face. Jerking his head up and fixing his brother with a piercing stare, he crumpled the note in his hand angrily. "Is this true?" He demanded. Well, of course it was true, he knew that much, but a part of him was tempted to hope that perhaps this was Dante's idea of a joke. He didn't even wait for an answer, abruptly sweeping his hand across the desk in anger and sending everything on it flying before he let out a low snarl, he almost flipped the entire desk itself, but stopped himself at the last minute and slammed his palms down on the wooden surface instead, unfortunately breaking it in half in the process. "What is father playing at?" He snarled, clenching the paper tightly in his hand.
"He must've shown up late, when we were crashed out," Dante said after a moment, giving his desk a mournful glance, although he didn't say anything about it, just kneeling and beginning to gather up the various items that had been disheveled in its destruction, most notably the framed photograph of their late mother. "Woozy's been sleeping in Soren's room, so I guess she didn't hear him, either." No-one could really hear anything much in there, as it was all but soundproofed.
Dante was silent for a moment, carrying an armload of the items over to the coffee table and depositing them there before turning back to his twin. "...you were probably the last of us to talk to him, because I haven't seen him in months. Did he...?"
Vergil frowned. "He didn't' say anything," he answered sharply, shooting his brother a look as though he was questioning why Dante even dared to imply that he had something to do with this or at least the foresight that he was going to do something. "The last time we spoke he was still on his religious crusade."
Then again, he had seemed rather distant that day, but Vergil swiftly put that to the back of his mind, it wasn't important. Sparda was gone, and to add insult to injury, he had gone to fight Mundus, at least that was what the note implied.
Argh! This is all wrong! He thought angrily before shoving the note into his coat pocket, not really sure what to make of it all. He was furious and clearly out for bloodshed, but he also felt an emotion that he was not able to identify straight away through the crimson haze of his own anger. He later realized that he was actually hurt by what Sparda had done which only irritated him further, the humanity that he loathed fuelling his anger even more.
To anyone watching the scene unfold, it was the silent calm before the storm. Vergil was clearly agitated as he paced back and forth though he remained quiet, mulling things over in his head. It took several minutes of this before his anger finally erupted and he slammed both hands up against the wall with all his strength, easily cracking the plaster in the area of impact, denting the wall in the process. "Mundus was mine!"
Dante moved quickly to restrain his brother, more out of concern for the house's structural integrity. Pulling him away from the already-injured wall before he could do any more damage, he muttered to him, "Like it or not, he's gone, probably off doing his 'religious duty' or something like that. Knock it off with the random destruction before Misha or Rakka hear." While he got along well with their angelic housemates, this was a family matter, and thus best kept between brothers. He wasn't sure if Misha or Rakka were even home, but still, perhaps the threat of angelic interruptions would calm Vergil down a bit.
Nothing's gonna calm him down... I knew this would happen. Probably shouldn't blame him, it's not like I took it too well. More like nearly got my ass kicked by weaklings 'cause I was too distracted. Glancing at his brother, he frowned, feeling at a loss as to what to actually do to try and calm him down. Maybe...
With his brain not registering that it was Dante who was trying to restrain him, Vergil automatically reacted by shoving him away. He was far too unfocused to successfully use his displacement technique, but that didn't mean his other techniques wouldn't be effective. Frowning darkly as he resumed his pacing, he glanced at his brother once again, as though he was seeing him for the first time before he extended his hand and fixed him with a steely glare.
"Give me your amulet. I'm going to deal with this myself," he said icily, his fingers curling around Yamato's hilt. It was obvious what was going to happen if Dante refused to comply with his demands since in his mind demanding the other half of the amulet so he could open the gateway to Hell and confront his father was perfectly logical. As usual, he never gave the consequences a thought.
"No way," Dante responded, not looking surprised in the least by the question, although he did take a step or two back. Not to back away, but rather to lead him outside, since it was obvious that this was going to turn violent and he'd rather not let any of the rest of his house get trashed. "This is why the note says not to tell you the whole story," he pointed out, taking another step back. "He knew -and I knew- that you'd do something stupid like this."
Standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the lounge, Dante shook his head. "Can't expect you to actually use your brain and think about the consequences, but think about this. He's an adult, he left of his own free will."
"Dante, you're going to do what I tell you to do," Vergil responded menacingly as he followed his brother, not prepared to simply let this go. "The amulet is as much mine as a whole as it is yours and right now, I need it. Don't argue with me, dear brother." If anything his brother said had actually gotten through to him, it wasn't showing. Too livid to really process information properly, his mind was set on two things and those two things alone: retrieving his brother's amulet regardless of what it took and preventing Sparda from doing what he believed he was fully capable of doing. His chance for revenge had been snatched out of his grasp far too many times by members of his family who claimed to be doing the right thing, he wasn't going to allow it to happen this time, even if it meant cutting Dante down to get what he needed. "Give it to me. I wont tell you a third time." Although he was speaking in a rather calm and composed manner, his temper had clearly gotten the better of him.
Dante had, at least, learnt his lesson about saying 'over my dead body', as that was practically an invitation for Vergil to kill him, and Christmas was for the Nativity scene, not for Cain and Abel. "You're gonna tell me a third time," Dante pointed out, still backing away, leading him out to the backlot. It was when they were roughly halfway through the kitchen that he realised he was unarmed, so he quickly grasped a carving knife from the dish-rack. Not exactly an inspired choice, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "You always tell me a third time. And a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth, and a seventh, and how many times have we done this now? The answer's still the same as it was years ago."
"When have I ever given you an actual say in the matter?" Vergil drawled, advancing on his brother and flicking up the hilt of his nodachi, the cold steel blade gleaming nastily, though he kept the sword sheathed for the moment. Normally he avoided speaking about the past, especially since it had resulted in a rather awkward outcome, but right now he was so detached from his emotions that it didn't bother him "I took your amulet before, I could do it again." To prove a point, he abruptly darted forward, his fingers curling around the cold metal that surrounded the precious stone as he moved to yank on the chain, only to have the amulet slip out of his fingers. Compensating swiftly for his failed attempt, he unsheathed Yamato and held the tip to his brother's throat, extending his free hand and motioning for him to hand it over. "Don't make me hurt you. I would hate to dishonour the family name by attacking someone who isn't armed, but I don't have the time to be wasting waiting for you to arm yourself suitably. I want your amulet now."
At that moment, Dante did what any sane man in his position would do. He lunged forwards, ducking to avoid Yamato, and stabbed his brother in the chest with the carving knife, using all his strength. Drawing back quickly, he frowned moodily at him, shaking his head. "Idiot. You really think I'm gonna let you get away with this...?" Glancing around the backlot, he looked over anything that could possibly be used as a weapon. Broken bottles, a trashcan, and he had his guns still holstered. This can't end well. "Where's your sense of brotherly compassion, man? It's Christmas!"
Vergil's eyes widened in shock as Dante plunged the knife into his chest, he hadn't even seen his brother grab a weapon, let alone conceal it on his person, which was highly unusual, as he liked to be completely aware of his surroundings, most called it paranoia, he simply called it awareness. Blood oozed from the wound, dripping off the handle of the knife and hitting the snow, staining it with angry crimson spots.
Curling his fingers around the blood-covered handle and bracing himself, he eased the blade out of his chest, his face contorting in pain as he grunted before eventually ripping the knife out sending a shower of blood across the snow. Surprisingly the stab wound had affected him more than usual since it had completely taken him by surprise and he seemed to be having trouble breathing, gripping the knife tightly in his free hand before he finally regained his composure and lunged at his brother, moving swiftly and slashing left and right with Yamato, the nodachi a blur in his hand. Skidding in the snow some distance from his brother in a wide fighting stance, the half-demon calmly rose to his full height before glancing over his shoulder triumphantly, expecting to see his brother on his knees in a mess of blood, sneering "Make it easy on yourself and just give me what I want. The whole notion of compassion and Christmas are ridiculous to me."
Dante was still standing, although barely, leaning against the wall to support himself and internally wishing he'd just pulled the knife out himself so he could use it as a weapon. Combined with his previous wounds, the slashes hurt, badly, his breathing laboured as he edged over to where the trashcan was, never taking his eyes off his twin. "The old man was right," he conceded after a moment, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have told you."
Allowing the carving knife to fall into the snow and abruptly flicking the blood from Yamato, Vergil turned to face his brother properly again, the deep wound to his chest and the sudden burst of energy had already begun to make him feel quite tired, as a result some of his anger had already seeped away, but that didn't prevent him from resorting to his usual homicidal tendencies. It was difficult to imagine just why Sparda would possibly want to prevent him from having his revenge, but there had to be a reason, he was twenty years old, almost twenty-one, he was strong enough to take on Mundus himself, protection simply wasn't going to be a good enough excuse.
"If you just gave me the amulet, it wouldn't have come to this." He retorted, Dante's blood dripping off his hand from Yamato's hilt. He advanced on him again, driving Yamato forward with the intentions of running the blade right through his brother's chest. He'd impale him on the sword then use the close proximity to take the amulet.
Fortunately, Dante had a plan. Even as Vergil lunged at him, Dante ducked and tightly gripped the handles either side of the trashcan, swinging it around and using it as an oversized club, striking his brother and ending up sending garbage showering around the area to boot, although thankfully most of the garbage was just pizza boxes. Letting go of the trashcan as he hit him, Dante stumbled back from the momentum, tripping backwards so he was lying on the ground on his back, crimson blood quickly staining the surrounding snow.
Breathing heavily, Dante tried to sit up, his face drained of all colour as the bloodloss continued to affect him at full force. "It was always going to come to this," he replied in a pained, weary tone, gripping his amulet tightly with one hand as he supported his weight with the other, just sitting there on the ground. Giving his brother a steely glare, he didn't say anything else, merely gripping the amulet tightly. Unless he was going to resort to snow as a weapon, he was officially in trouble, although he didn't take his eyes off Vergil for a moment.
The impact had certainly hurt, the momentum strong enough to throw him off his feet and send him skidding through the snow several feet away from Dante. Yamato had flown out of his hand in the process, impaling itself in the ground a short distance away from the pair. Slowly standing up, Vergil seemed a great deal more subdued, brushing the snow off his broad shoulders before he retrieved the nodachi, sheathing it and keeping it at his side. He remained silent for a moment as he trudged through the snow to stand at his brother's side, gazing down at him emotionlessly before his free hand went to his own amulet, gripping it tightly.
"What happens now?" Vergil questioned quietly, his anger having completely seeped out of him, it seemed that the blow had knocked some sense into him. "Father's gone again, we're here on our own." Complete 180s in mood were normally abnormal, but for Vergil they were considered as being very normal, it was all relative, the angrier he became the worse his mood got, but even his temper wasn't limitless and once that anger fizzled out, he was normally capable of thinking much clearer.
Good timing for commonsense to kick in, Dante reflected, forcing himself to stand. Showing weakness in front of his brother was just plain embarrassing, and it seemed as though the fight was over now. "We'll live on our own," he responded simply, though there was no mirth in his tone, he sounded just as grim and sombre as he had before. "He did what he had to do, or what he thought he had to do, anyway."
Walking past his twin and not meeting eyes with him, he glanced around the backlot with its bloody snow and scattered rubbish. "Let's go inside."
That doesn't mean I have to agree with it. Father should have trusted that we could handle it. He told me that this wasn't his fight anymore, why did he go back on his word? Vergil thought before shaking his head, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. "You go. I'll be a minute. I want to clear my head." He explained, hoping that Dante wouldn't continue to pester him, though he was calm now, he needed to get his thoughts back in order, the whole thing was just too sudden and confusing. "Your present is under the tree," he added emotionlessly, hoping that would be enough to distract his brother from fussing.
"I'll wait inside," Dante agreed, walking into the kitchen without another word. His eyes were drawn to the Christmas tree, although he didn't move to open the present, instead just continuing to clear up the mess that had been made when Vergil took out his frustrations on the desk. Misha and Rakka evidently weren't home or they'd have heard by now, but hopefully he could get the place close to recovered before they returned. (As long as he didn't let them see the backlot. That was going to take awhile.)
Sighing, he eventually took a break, slumping down in the armchair (after retrieving the bandages and wrapping the wounds) and relaxing, tilting his head back as he listened to the steady hum of the heater and ignored the pain shooting through his body. "Way to cause even more trouble, old man," he muttered quietly.
Sure enough after taking some time to fully compose himself, Vergil returned to the shop. It was difficult to really believe that Sparda had gone again, particularly after everything that he had said and the promises he had made. Glancing at the tree and realizing that Dante hadn't even touched his present, he walked past him and picked it up, offering it to him stiffly.
"He never told me where he was staying," Vergil remarked flatly, as though it had only just occurred to him, he frowned and fell silent, sitting on the couch with a rather dark expression on his face.
Dante took the present, gesturing to the other one sitting under the tree (evidently his gift for his brother), but he didn't make a move to open it, merely sighing. "Awhile ago, he mentioned something about looking for an apartment," he shook his head. "But that was months ago." He felt almost guilty, not being able to really say anything to help, but this wasn't his kind of situation.
Glancing back over at the tree but ignoring the present there, Vergil looked like the last thing he wanted to do right now was open presents. He had to wonder if this was how Dante had felt all those times when he had manipulated and betrayed him, because he felt terrible. "You might as well keep the present I bought for father. It's a new shotgun." He commented flatly before abruptly standing up and striding over to where they were now keeping the weapons, he had to know that Sparda hadn't taken anything with him, especially Force Edge and its replica.
"...hey, Vergil," Dante stood, placing the still-wrapped present down on the coffee table and following him, knowing what he was looking for. "It's-" he cut himself off, glancing over his brother's shoulder as they peered into the closet where they'd been keeping the weapons out of desperation, staring, searching for the blade in question. Oh man... It wasn't there. Can't see him taking this very well.
A low growl escaped from the back of Vergil's throat as he realized that not only was Force Edge missing, but the replica blade he had acquired from the false Sparda had also been taken. His one chance at power, snatched out of his fingers, again. He probably would have taken Yamato, if he'd had the chance, Vergil thought angrily, gripping the nodachi tighter and shifting some of the weapons. Beowulf was still there, but he couldn't remember Sparda ever using the gauntlets and grieves, so that did not surprise him.
"He's taken them," he answered dryly, anger evident in his voice. He would have accepted that he had taken them under normal circumstances, Force Edge belonged to his father and Nameless… well it had come from an entity of evil, for all they knew Mundus intended for a son of Sparda to get his hands on it, but Sparda had given it to him! He couldn't just take it back!
Dante quickly realised that were he to make the wrong move here, he'd probably end up with a katana through the stomach, so he'd better think of something good fast. "At least there's still Yamato." A master of tact, he was. "...he did what he thought was best," he said finally, shaking his head. "Doubt he wanted to, but that's the way it is sometimes. Just..."
Vergil glowered at his brother, it was all well and good for him to say that, but he wasn't the one who'd been lied to and had his possessions stolen. Force Edge had so much untapped power and potential, with it he could have defeated Mundus on his own, now it was gone. "Shut up." He answered darkly before striding past him.
"You think it doesn't bother me?" Dante glanced at him, but he didn't continue on that, merely following after him. There was no point trying to reason with Vergil when he was like this, and it was kind of understandable. Feeling at a loss as to exactly how to improve the situation (if it even could be improved), he shook his head in frustration. He wasn't up to a fight, not by a longshot, but knowing Vergil, that seemed about the only thing that calmed him down.
"I didn't say that," Vergil answered emotionlessly as he glanced over his shoulder at his brother. "I just…," he felt hurt and betrayed more than anything else and that annoyed him as well, his damnable human emotions were affecting how he saw things. "Never mind. I'm going out."
"...yeah, alright," Dante nodded, not trying to stop him. There wasn't much point, Vergil would deal with it however he saw fit, and if it meant Dante not being stabbed, he'd just rather not interfere. "I'll clean up the backlot." A thoughtful pause before he eventually added in a tired-sounding tone, "...don't tell anyone about this. Not Misha or Rakka, not Yuna, not anyone. It's our business, not anyone else's."
"I have to tell Yuna," he answered smoothly, clearly keeping it from her was out of the question. "She's going to ask questions, I can't lie to her." For starters he was a terrible liar and it was unlikely that she would believe him.
"She's better off not knowing," Dante said flatly, frowning. "It's no-one else's business, not even hers!" Sighing, he turned away. Vergil probably wouldn't understand, even he didn't really understand why he was so determined that no-one else should know. Since when did I take the old man's instructions seriously...? And at a time like this...? "He said not to tell anyone else," he said finally.
Deciding to simply go along with what his brother said, Vergil nodded curtly and fell silent. He could tell that it was affecting Dante more than what he would have liked to admit, but then again he had never expected Sparda to leave yet again, at Christmas no less.
"...this sucks," Dante observed wryly, walking to his ruined desk and inspecting the damage, sighing. "So much for Christmas, I guess." He lightly gripped his stomach as one of the injuries sustained there suddenly ached, probably due to all the movement when he really should've been resting. "Stupid holiday, anyway. Everyone's only ever in it for the presents."
Vergil raised an eyebrow and moved over to him, gently placing his hand on his shoulder and helping him back over to the chair. "That's all Christmas is really about, brother, the greed of humanity." Lifting his brother's shirt before he could even argue, he inspected the injury and gently unwrapped the already blood stained bandages.
Dante tensed, although he couldn't really pull away now that he was sitting down, lest he end up toppling the chair over and probably bringing them both down with it. That taken into account, he just sat still, although he looked uncomfortable. "Guess there's nothing wrong with it in principle, but most of that togetherness crap ends up ringing a little hollow," he eventually mused, trying to avoid the immediate subject of what had taken place. "Least it's an excuse to have a holiday."
"I tend to avoid it all together," Vergil answered as he continued to tend to his brother's injuries. "It's too human, how anyone can find enjoyment out of it is truly beyond me." He said smoothly before perching on the arm of the chair.
Dante let him tend to the injuries, even if it was a bit uncomfortable and awkward, especially given that Vergil was the cause of the injuries becoming so severe. Dante doubted he'd ever really understand why things always unfolded this way, but it was easier to leave well enough alone. "At least it's only once a year," he supplied finally, shaking his head. Every time he tried to think of ways to steer the subject further away, he couldn't help just thinking about it, thinking stupid thoughts that he certainly couldn't voice.
"Perhaps we should leave the city, next year," Vergil mused, more to himself than his brother. "Get away from all this pesky Christmas cheer." With the gates firmly sealed, it was unlikely that there would be many demons left to cause trouble by next year, though he supposed that these days it would be hard to find anywhere that did not celebrate Christmas in some form.
"What, go out to the country?" Dante looked skeptical, shrugging after a moment. "...I'm always up for a vacation, but I figure there's Christmas everywhere you go. Even those real closed-off communities probably still celebrate it."
"It's an idea," Vergil responded, wishing that Hell did holiday destinations; at least then he wouldn't have to tolerate this holiday that seemed to get worse with each passing year.
Dante fell silent, glancing away and shaking his head. "...he sure picked his moment, didn't he?" he questioned after a moment, unable to help commenting on it. It was hard to get his mind onto other subjects, too hard, and maybe just voicing it would help, somehow.
Vergil fell silent again, not really wanting to think about it. "You should get spectacularly drunk," he commented after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence "You wont remember a thing and it will be amusing for me to watch."
Dante laughed at that, perhaps a little too loudly. "Nah, you should get spectacularly drunk," he corrected, grinning. "You're a hilarious drunk, for one thing, and you get smashed after hardly anything."
Vergil shot him a look. "I would rather maintain my dignity, thank you, dear brother." He drawled, though he too saw some amusement in it. "Besides, we're out of wine."
"Tell you what," Dante got to his feet, looking relaxed as he glanced around, still grinning. "You go buy a couple of bottles of wine, I'll clear up the mess, and we'll both get hammered. Sound fair enough?"
"I'm beginning to think that you and the rest of humanity are having a negative influence on me." Vergil responded dryly as he pulled on his trench coat, concealing Yamato and plucking some money out of his brother's wallet.
"Hey, what are brothers for?" Dante smirked, glancing out through the kitchen door. "I'll handle the mess here and the mess in the backlot, be done by the time you get back. Anyway, you have to get drunk on Christmas, it's like a survival instinct."
Vergil raised an eyebrow "To protect my brain from succumbing to the Christmas cheer, I assume?" He questioned before shaking his head, smirking a little. "I'll get the alcohol, you try not to kill yourself with the cleaning," he glanced around the room swiftly. "Neither of us have cleaned this place for a while."
"I didn't say I was gonna clean it," Dante looked vaguely affronted at that implication. "I just said I'd clear up the mess we made in the last couple of hours. All the other mess is staying just where it is," he grinned, turning and calling over his shoulder, "I'll clean it later! Call it a New Year's Resolution!"
"Or in other words, you're going to wait for me to do it," Vergil remarked before striding out of the building.
"Same difference!" Dante called after him before shrugging, continuing on his way out to the backlot, kneeling in the bloody snow as he attempted to cover the red patches with the other snow, both slushy and freshly fallen, eventually ending up with most of the patches mostly covered, although he simply couldn’t eliminate the red tinge in some areas. (The trashcan, he wasn’t going to touch; that had just ‘blown over in the storm last night’.) It wasn't perfect -the snow, the situation-, but it would do.
Where: Devil May Cry.
When: 7:30pm, Christmas Day (after this thread)
Summary: Dante's got a secret to share, and Vergil's just plain pissed. Christmas as usual, then.
Notes: Hooray for IC explanations for Sparda being gone? ^^; Read and comment? (Also, set after Misha and Rakka move into the shop. Whenever we get that log finished. D:)
Walking into the shop, Dante closed the door after them, turning to face his brother. ...maybe I should've thought about it some more, he mused mentally, crossing the room and kneeling before the heater, flicking the switch to set it to heat up the room. I guess it's too late to second-guess now. And... I couldn't have kept it from him for that long. Shoving his hand in his pocket, he produced a crumpled piece of paper, glancing away as he held it out to his brother.
"Found it on my desk this morning," he broke the uneasy silence, looking around the cheerily-decorated shop. The injuries he'd sustained had been his own fault, had been because he wasn't concentrating; he never should've had so much trouble with demons, never should've genuinely forgotten to bring his sword. "Merry fucking Christmas."
Realistically, the elder twin should have known that there was something seriously wrong when his brother had been out at work on Christmas morning, as usually all through Christmas he tended to get as drunk as possible and generally avoid work like the plague. Not that demons usually attacked during Christmas, it wasn't their style, there were simply too many humans around to make it worth their while. Now, he was beginning to feel increasingly uncomfortable as he took the note from him, not missing the somber tone that had overtaken his voice. Perhaps I am thinking into this too much, it is possible that Dante simply wasn't in the mood to go out on a drinking binge tonight… no, now I'm thinking about it too much, Dante never stays sober on Christmas, even if he doesn't get blind drunk, he's at least tipsy by now. Something is wrong.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he turned his attention to the note, reading it and re-reading it as what little colour there was drained from his face. Jerking his head up and fixing his brother with a piercing stare, he crumpled the note in his hand angrily. "Is this true?" He demanded. Well, of course it was true, he knew that much, but a part of him was tempted to hope that perhaps this was Dante's idea of a joke. He didn't even wait for an answer, abruptly sweeping his hand across the desk in anger and sending everything on it flying before he let out a low snarl, he almost flipped the entire desk itself, but stopped himself at the last minute and slammed his palms down on the wooden surface instead, unfortunately breaking it in half in the process. "What is father playing at?" He snarled, clenching the paper tightly in his hand.
"He must've shown up late, when we were crashed out," Dante said after a moment, giving his desk a mournful glance, although he didn't say anything about it, just kneeling and beginning to gather up the various items that had been disheveled in its destruction, most notably the framed photograph of their late mother. "Woozy's been sleeping in Soren's room, so I guess she didn't hear him, either." No-one could really hear anything much in there, as it was all but soundproofed.
Dante was silent for a moment, carrying an armload of the items over to the coffee table and depositing them there before turning back to his twin. "...you were probably the last of us to talk to him, because I haven't seen him in months. Did he...?"
Vergil frowned. "He didn't' say anything," he answered sharply, shooting his brother a look as though he was questioning why Dante even dared to imply that he had something to do with this or at least the foresight that he was going to do something. "The last time we spoke he was still on his religious crusade."
Then again, he had seemed rather distant that day, but Vergil swiftly put that to the back of his mind, it wasn't important. Sparda was gone, and to add insult to injury, he had gone to fight Mundus, at least that was what the note implied.
Argh! This is all wrong! He thought angrily before shoving the note into his coat pocket, not really sure what to make of it all. He was furious and clearly out for bloodshed, but he also felt an emotion that he was not able to identify straight away through the crimson haze of his own anger. He later realized that he was actually hurt by what Sparda had done which only irritated him further, the humanity that he loathed fuelling his anger even more.
To anyone watching the scene unfold, it was the silent calm before the storm. Vergil was clearly agitated as he paced back and forth though he remained quiet, mulling things over in his head. It took several minutes of this before his anger finally erupted and he slammed both hands up against the wall with all his strength, easily cracking the plaster in the area of impact, denting the wall in the process. "Mundus was mine!"
Dante moved quickly to restrain his brother, more out of concern for the house's structural integrity. Pulling him away from the already-injured wall before he could do any more damage, he muttered to him, "Like it or not, he's gone, probably off doing his 'religious duty' or something like that. Knock it off with the random destruction before Misha or Rakka hear." While he got along well with their angelic housemates, this was a family matter, and thus best kept between brothers. He wasn't sure if Misha or Rakka were even home, but still, perhaps the threat of angelic interruptions would calm Vergil down a bit.
Nothing's gonna calm him down... I knew this would happen. Probably shouldn't blame him, it's not like I took it too well. More like nearly got my ass kicked by weaklings 'cause I was too distracted. Glancing at his brother, he frowned, feeling at a loss as to what to actually do to try and calm him down. Maybe...
With his brain not registering that it was Dante who was trying to restrain him, Vergil automatically reacted by shoving him away. He was far too unfocused to successfully use his displacement technique, but that didn't mean his other techniques wouldn't be effective. Frowning darkly as he resumed his pacing, he glanced at his brother once again, as though he was seeing him for the first time before he extended his hand and fixed him with a steely glare.
"Give me your amulet. I'm going to deal with this myself," he said icily, his fingers curling around Yamato's hilt. It was obvious what was going to happen if Dante refused to comply with his demands since in his mind demanding the other half of the amulet so he could open the gateway to Hell and confront his father was perfectly logical. As usual, he never gave the consequences a thought.
"No way," Dante responded, not looking surprised in the least by the question, although he did take a step or two back. Not to back away, but rather to lead him outside, since it was obvious that this was going to turn violent and he'd rather not let any of the rest of his house get trashed. "This is why the note says not to tell you the whole story," he pointed out, taking another step back. "He knew -and I knew- that you'd do something stupid like this."
Standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the lounge, Dante shook his head. "Can't expect you to actually use your brain and think about the consequences, but think about this. He's an adult, he left of his own free will."
"Dante, you're going to do what I tell you to do," Vergil responded menacingly as he followed his brother, not prepared to simply let this go. "The amulet is as much mine as a whole as it is yours and right now, I need it. Don't argue with me, dear brother." If anything his brother said had actually gotten through to him, it wasn't showing. Too livid to really process information properly, his mind was set on two things and those two things alone: retrieving his brother's amulet regardless of what it took and preventing Sparda from doing what he believed he was fully capable of doing. His chance for revenge had been snatched out of his grasp far too many times by members of his family who claimed to be doing the right thing, he wasn't going to allow it to happen this time, even if it meant cutting Dante down to get what he needed. "Give it to me. I wont tell you a third time." Although he was speaking in a rather calm and composed manner, his temper had clearly gotten the better of him.
Dante had, at least, learnt his lesson about saying 'over my dead body', as that was practically an invitation for Vergil to kill him, and Christmas was for the Nativity scene, not for Cain and Abel. "You're gonna tell me a third time," Dante pointed out, still backing away, leading him out to the backlot. It was when they were roughly halfway through the kitchen that he realised he was unarmed, so he quickly grasped a carving knife from the dish-rack. Not exactly an inspired choice, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "You always tell me a third time. And a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth, and a seventh, and how many times have we done this now? The answer's still the same as it was years ago."
"When have I ever given you an actual say in the matter?" Vergil drawled, advancing on his brother and flicking up the hilt of his nodachi, the cold steel blade gleaming nastily, though he kept the sword sheathed for the moment. Normally he avoided speaking about the past, especially since it had resulted in a rather awkward outcome, but right now he was so detached from his emotions that it didn't bother him "I took your amulet before, I could do it again." To prove a point, he abruptly darted forward, his fingers curling around the cold metal that surrounded the precious stone as he moved to yank on the chain, only to have the amulet slip out of his fingers. Compensating swiftly for his failed attempt, he unsheathed Yamato and held the tip to his brother's throat, extending his free hand and motioning for him to hand it over. "Don't make me hurt you. I would hate to dishonour the family name by attacking someone who isn't armed, but I don't have the time to be wasting waiting for you to arm yourself suitably. I want your amulet now."
At that moment, Dante did what any sane man in his position would do. He lunged forwards, ducking to avoid Yamato, and stabbed his brother in the chest with the carving knife, using all his strength. Drawing back quickly, he frowned moodily at him, shaking his head. "Idiot. You really think I'm gonna let you get away with this...?" Glancing around the backlot, he looked over anything that could possibly be used as a weapon. Broken bottles, a trashcan, and he had his guns still holstered. This can't end well. "Where's your sense of brotherly compassion, man? It's Christmas!"
Vergil's eyes widened in shock as Dante plunged the knife into his chest, he hadn't even seen his brother grab a weapon, let alone conceal it on his person, which was highly unusual, as he liked to be completely aware of his surroundings, most called it paranoia, he simply called it awareness. Blood oozed from the wound, dripping off the handle of the knife and hitting the snow, staining it with angry crimson spots.
Curling his fingers around the blood-covered handle and bracing himself, he eased the blade out of his chest, his face contorting in pain as he grunted before eventually ripping the knife out sending a shower of blood across the snow. Surprisingly the stab wound had affected him more than usual since it had completely taken him by surprise and he seemed to be having trouble breathing, gripping the knife tightly in his free hand before he finally regained his composure and lunged at his brother, moving swiftly and slashing left and right with Yamato, the nodachi a blur in his hand. Skidding in the snow some distance from his brother in a wide fighting stance, the half-demon calmly rose to his full height before glancing over his shoulder triumphantly, expecting to see his brother on his knees in a mess of blood, sneering "Make it easy on yourself and just give me what I want. The whole notion of compassion and Christmas are ridiculous to me."
Dante was still standing, although barely, leaning against the wall to support himself and internally wishing he'd just pulled the knife out himself so he could use it as a weapon. Combined with his previous wounds, the slashes hurt, badly, his breathing laboured as he edged over to where the trashcan was, never taking his eyes off his twin. "The old man was right," he conceded after a moment, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have told you."
Allowing the carving knife to fall into the snow and abruptly flicking the blood from Yamato, Vergil turned to face his brother properly again, the deep wound to his chest and the sudden burst of energy had already begun to make him feel quite tired, as a result some of his anger had already seeped away, but that didn't prevent him from resorting to his usual homicidal tendencies. It was difficult to imagine just why Sparda would possibly want to prevent him from having his revenge, but there had to be a reason, he was twenty years old, almost twenty-one, he was strong enough to take on Mundus himself, protection simply wasn't going to be a good enough excuse.
"If you just gave me the amulet, it wouldn't have come to this." He retorted, Dante's blood dripping off his hand from Yamato's hilt. He advanced on him again, driving Yamato forward with the intentions of running the blade right through his brother's chest. He'd impale him on the sword then use the close proximity to take the amulet.
Fortunately, Dante had a plan. Even as Vergil lunged at him, Dante ducked and tightly gripped the handles either side of the trashcan, swinging it around and using it as an oversized club, striking his brother and ending up sending garbage showering around the area to boot, although thankfully most of the garbage was just pizza boxes. Letting go of the trashcan as he hit him, Dante stumbled back from the momentum, tripping backwards so he was lying on the ground on his back, crimson blood quickly staining the surrounding snow.
Breathing heavily, Dante tried to sit up, his face drained of all colour as the bloodloss continued to affect him at full force. "It was always going to come to this," he replied in a pained, weary tone, gripping his amulet tightly with one hand as he supported his weight with the other, just sitting there on the ground. Giving his brother a steely glare, he didn't say anything else, merely gripping the amulet tightly. Unless he was going to resort to snow as a weapon, he was officially in trouble, although he didn't take his eyes off Vergil for a moment.
The impact had certainly hurt, the momentum strong enough to throw him off his feet and send him skidding through the snow several feet away from Dante. Yamato had flown out of his hand in the process, impaling itself in the ground a short distance away from the pair. Slowly standing up, Vergil seemed a great deal more subdued, brushing the snow off his broad shoulders before he retrieved the nodachi, sheathing it and keeping it at his side. He remained silent for a moment as he trudged through the snow to stand at his brother's side, gazing down at him emotionlessly before his free hand went to his own amulet, gripping it tightly.
"What happens now?" Vergil questioned quietly, his anger having completely seeped out of him, it seemed that the blow had knocked some sense into him. "Father's gone again, we're here on our own." Complete 180s in mood were normally abnormal, but for Vergil they were considered as being very normal, it was all relative, the angrier he became the worse his mood got, but even his temper wasn't limitless and once that anger fizzled out, he was normally capable of thinking much clearer.
Good timing for commonsense to kick in, Dante reflected, forcing himself to stand. Showing weakness in front of his brother was just plain embarrassing, and it seemed as though the fight was over now. "We'll live on our own," he responded simply, though there was no mirth in his tone, he sounded just as grim and sombre as he had before. "He did what he had to do, or what he thought he had to do, anyway."
Walking past his twin and not meeting eyes with him, he glanced around the backlot with its bloody snow and scattered rubbish. "Let's go inside."
That doesn't mean I have to agree with it. Father should have trusted that we could handle it. He told me that this wasn't his fight anymore, why did he go back on his word? Vergil thought before shaking his head, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. "You go. I'll be a minute. I want to clear my head." He explained, hoping that Dante wouldn't continue to pester him, though he was calm now, he needed to get his thoughts back in order, the whole thing was just too sudden and confusing. "Your present is under the tree," he added emotionlessly, hoping that would be enough to distract his brother from fussing.
"I'll wait inside," Dante agreed, walking into the kitchen without another word. His eyes were drawn to the Christmas tree, although he didn't move to open the present, instead just continuing to clear up the mess that had been made when Vergil took out his frustrations on the desk. Misha and Rakka evidently weren't home or they'd have heard by now, but hopefully he could get the place close to recovered before they returned. (As long as he didn't let them see the backlot. That was going to take awhile.)
Sighing, he eventually took a break, slumping down in the armchair (after retrieving the bandages and wrapping the wounds) and relaxing, tilting his head back as he listened to the steady hum of the heater and ignored the pain shooting through his body. "Way to cause even more trouble, old man," he muttered quietly.
Sure enough after taking some time to fully compose himself, Vergil returned to the shop. It was difficult to really believe that Sparda had gone again, particularly after everything that he had said and the promises he had made. Glancing at the tree and realizing that Dante hadn't even touched his present, he walked past him and picked it up, offering it to him stiffly.
"He never told me where he was staying," Vergil remarked flatly, as though it had only just occurred to him, he frowned and fell silent, sitting on the couch with a rather dark expression on his face.
Dante took the present, gesturing to the other one sitting under the tree (evidently his gift for his brother), but he didn't make a move to open it, merely sighing. "Awhile ago, he mentioned something about looking for an apartment," he shook his head. "But that was months ago." He felt almost guilty, not being able to really say anything to help, but this wasn't his kind of situation.
Glancing back over at the tree but ignoring the present there, Vergil looked like the last thing he wanted to do right now was open presents. He had to wonder if this was how Dante had felt all those times when he had manipulated and betrayed him, because he felt terrible. "You might as well keep the present I bought for father. It's a new shotgun." He commented flatly before abruptly standing up and striding over to where they were now keeping the weapons, he had to know that Sparda hadn't taken anything with him, especially Force Edge and its replica.
"...hey, Vergil," Dante stood, placing the still-wrapped present down on the coffee table and following him, knowing what he was looking for. "It's-" he cut himself off, glancing over his brother's shoulder as they peered into the closet where they'd been keeping the weapons out of desperation, staring, searching for the blade in question. Oh man... It wasn't there. Can't see him taking this very well.
A low growl escaped from the back of Vergil's throat as he realized that not only was Force Edge missing, but the replica blade he had acquired from the false Sparda had also been taken. His one chance at power, snatched out of his fingers, again. He probably would have taken Yamato, if he'd had the chance, Vergil thought angrily, gripping the nodachi tighter and shifting some of the weapons. Beowulf was still there, but he couldn't remember Sparda ever using the gauntlets and grieves, so that did not surprise him.
"He's taken them," he answered dryly, anger evident in his voice. He would have accepted that he had taken them under normal circumstances, Force Edge belonged to his father and Nameless… well it had come from an entity of evil, for all they knew Mundus intended for a son of Sparda to get his hands on it, but Sparda had given it to him! He couldn't just take it back!
Dante quickly realised that were he to make the wrong move here, he'd probably end up with a katana through the stomach, so he'd better think of something good fast. "At least there's still Yamato." A master of tact, he was. "...he did what he thought was best," he said finally, shaking his head. "Doubt he wanted to, but that's the way it is sometimes. Just..."
Vergil glowered at his brother, it was all well and good for him to say that, but he wasn't the one who'd been lied to and had his possessions stolen. Force Edge had so much untapped power and potential, with it he could have defeated Mundus on his own, now it was gone. "Shut up." He answered darkly before striding past him.
"You think it doesn't bother me?" Dante glanced at him, but he didn't continue on that, merely following after him. There was no point trying to reason with Vergil when he was like this, and it was kind of understandable. Feeling at a loss as to exactly how to improve the situation (if it even could be improved), he shook his head in frustration. He wasn't up to a fight, not by a longshot, but knowing Vergil, that seemed about the only thing that calmed him down.
"I didn't say that," Vergil answered emotionlessly as he glanced over his shoulder at his brother. "I just…," he felt hurt and betrayed more than anything else and that annoyed him as well, his damnable human emotions were affecting how he saw things. "Never mind. I'm going out."
"...yeah, alright," Dante nodded, not trying to stop him. There wasn't much point, Vergil would deal with it however he saw fit, and if it meant Dante not being stabbed, he'd just rather not interfere. "I'll clean up the backlot." A thoughtful pause before he eventually added in a tired-sounding tone, "...don't tell anyone about this. Not Misha or Rakka, not Yuna, not anyone. It's our business, not anyone else's."
"I have to tell Yuna," he answered smoothly, clearly keeping it from her was out of the question. "She's going to ask questions, I can't lie to her." For starters he was a terrible liar and it was unlikely that she would believe him.
"She's better off not knowing," Dante said flatly, frowning. "It's no-one else's business, not even hers!" Sighing, he turned away. Vergil probably wouldn't understand, even he didn't really understand why he was so determined that no-one else should know. Since when did I take the old man's instructions seriously...? And at a time like this...? "He said not to tell anyone else," he said finally.
Deciding to simply go along with what his brother said, Vergil nodded curtly and fell silent. He could tell that it was affecting Dante more than what he would have liked to admit, but then again he had never expected Sparda to leave yet again, at Christmas no less.
"...this sucks," Dante observed wryly, walking to his ruined desk and inspecting the damage, sighing. "So much for Christmas, I guess." He lightly gripped his stomach as one of the injuries sustained there suddenly ached, probably due to all the movement when he really should've been resting. "Stupid holiday, anyway. Everyone's only ever in it for the presents."
Vergil raised an eyebrow and moved over to him, gently placing his hand on his shoulder and helping him back over to the chair. "That's all Christmas is really about, brother, the greed of humanity." Lifting his brother's shirt before he could even argue, he inspected the injury and gently unwrapped the already blood stained bandages.
Dante tensed, although he couldn't really pull away now that he was sitting down, lest he end up toppling the chair over and probably bringing them both down with it. That taken into account, he just sat still, although he looked uncomfortable. "Guess there's nothing wrong with it in principle, but most of that togetherness crap ends up ringing a little hollow," he eventually mused, trying to avoid the immediate subject of what had taken place. "Least it's an excuse to have a holiday."
"I tend to avoid it all together," Vergil answered as he continued to tend to his brother's injuries. "It's too human, how anyone can find enjoyment out of it is truly beyond me." He said smoothly before perching on the arm of the chair.
Dante let him tend to the injuries, even if it was a bit uncomfortable and awkward, especially given that Vergil was the cause of the injuries becoming so severe. Dante doubted he'd ever really understand why things always unfolded this way, but it was easier to leave well enough alone. "At least it's only once a year," he supplied finally, shaking his head. Every time he tried to think of ways to steer the subject further away, he couldn't help just thinking about it, thinking stupid thoughts that he certainly couldn't voice.
"Perhaps we should leave the city, next year," Vergil mused, more to himself than his brother. "Get away from all this pesky Christmas cheer." With the gates firmly sealed, it was unlikely that there would be many demons left to cause trouble by next year, though he supposed that these days it would be hard to find anywhere that did not celebrate Christmas in some form.
"What, go out to the country?" Dante looked skeptical, shrugging after a moment. "...I'm always up for a vacation, but I figure there's Christmas everywhere you go. Even those real closed-off communities probably still celebrate it."
"It's an idea," Vergil responded, wishing that Hell did holiday destinations; at least then he wouldn't have to tolerate this holiday that seemed to get worse with each passing year.
Dante fell silent, glancing away and shaking his head. "...he sure picked his moment, didn't he?" he questioned after a moment, unable to help commenting on it. It was hard to get his mind onto other subjects, too hard, and maybe just voicing it would help, somehow.
Vergil fell silent again, not really wanting to think about it. "You should get spectacularly drunk," he commented after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence "You wont remember a thing and it will be amusing for me to watch."
Dante laughed at that, perhaps a little too loudly. "Nah, you should get spectacularly drunk," he corrected, grinning. "You're a hilarious drunk, for one thing, and you get smashed after hardly anything."
Vergil shot him a look. "I would rather maintain my dignity, thank you, dear brother." He drawled, though he too saw some amusement in it. "Besides, we're out of wine."
"Tell you what," Dante got to his feet, looking relaxed as he glanced around, still grinning. "You go buy a couple of bottles of wine, I'll clear up the mess, and we'll both get hammered. Sound fair enough?"
"I'm beginning to think that you and the rest of humanity are having a negative influence on me." Vergil responded dryly as he pulled on his trench coat, concealing Yamato and plucking some money out of his brother's wallet.
"Hey, what are brothers for?" Dante smirked, glancing out through the kitchen door. "I'll handle the mess here and the mess in the backlot, be done by the time you get back. Anyway, you have to get drunk on Christmas, it's like a survival instinct."
Vergil raised an eyebrow "To protect my brain from succumbing to the Christmas cheer, I assume?" He questioned before shaking his head, smirking a little. "I'll get the alcohol, you try not to kill yourself with the cleaning," he glanced around the room swiftly. "Neither of us have cleaned this place for a while."
"I didn't say I was gonna clean it," Dante looked vaguely affronted at that implication. "I just said I'd clear up the mess we made in the last couple of hours. All the other mess is staying just where it is," he grinned, turning and calling over his shoulder, "I'll clean it later! Call it a New Year's Resolution!"
"Or in other words, you're going to wait for me to do it," Vergil remarked before striding out of the building.
"Same difference!" Dante called after him before shrugging, continuing on his way out to the backlot, kneeling in the bloody snow as he attempted to cover the red patches with the other snow, both slushy and freshly fallen, eventually ending up with most of the patches mostly covered, although he simply couldn’t eliminate the red tinge in some areas. (The trashcan, he wasn’t going to touch; that had just ‘blown over in the storm last night’.) It wasn't perfect -the snow, the situation-, but it would do.