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spirit-of-the-void · 6 years ago

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Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 27

Author’s notes: This chapter is interesting to be sure, let’s keep it rolling kids! Gonna see a lot more of other point of views this time around.

Chapter 27

(Griffon POV)

Bad, this was bad.

You had been out like a light for a while now. As soon as Nightmare wrapped you up in his strong, demonic arms your eyes closed and you lost all consciousness. It was for the best, but the bird wasn’t anticipating just how far down they would have to go. The tree was collapsing, making for treacherous travel, a lot of climbing and maneuvering, two things Nightmare was really shitty at. They were doing their best, but they were running out of Vergil’s residual energy. Which was the bad part. Everything had turned into a race against the clock, trying to get you somewhere safe to heal and recover before they had to return to your form.

Griffon had vaguely noted the silver cane that V formerly used before they set out. Dante had walked right past it, leaving it glinting in the sun with nowhere to go. He didn’t know why, but the bird grabbed it, swooping over quickly and returning back with it clutched in his talons. Any reminders of the poet would hurt you, that was obvious, but...he felt like it belonged to you now. After all, it was what V used to command them in the first place. So he chucked it into Nightmare’s swirling form, letting the bigger familiar absorb it into himself and making a mental note to tell you about it at some point. You deserved to have something left from him at least.

Griffon was still trying to process it all--being inside the body and mind of someone new was strange. And when it came to you, he was learning a lot more and realizing things he wish he’d known earlier. Christ, you were a fucking mess. Just as bad as Shakespeare was. Hell, you were almost worse, there was so many things to unpack about your trauma and body, he wasn’t sure where to start. There was this underlying feeling of pain constantly radiating in your limbs, that swirling Void power always leaving a dull ache in your stomach and chest. Was this how it felt for you all the time? Just how long did you suffer in pain? It never showed, save for the occasional wince or hand to your temple.

Fuck, he felt bad. You were such a cheerful thing before, but underneath was a storm of bullshit he didn’t know how to help. This whole situation had just fucked you up more. He should have been honest with you from the beginning, but what the hell would that have changed?

Regardless, that didn’t matter now. Getting you to the van did. But it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. They made it about halfway down before Nightmare’s steps started to slow, as if the tar-like substance that made up his body was sticking to the floor. Griffon was feeling fatigued himself, but they couldn’t afford to stop now, not being so high up. If the tree went down, you would get hurt badly--not to mention the threat of demons still crawling around.

“Come on, you big lug!” Griffon squawked at the giant moving ever so slowly along. But he was panting, exhaustion in his tone just from flapping his wings, “Get a move on, no time to rest now…! Gotta get her to the bottom at least!”

Nightmare’s eye rolled eerily over to look at him, conveying every ounce of annoyance he felt for his avian companion. Yeah, he got it loud and clear. Mouth shut, eyes forward. Couldn’t make what was impossible, possible. To be completely honest, Griffon was expecting them to kill Dante or at least die trying, then fade into nothing like Vergil wanted them to. You had never been a part of the equation, and if you had...he wouldn’t have wasted so much energy trying to blast away the idiotic demon hunter. He would have waited, so they could get you down the stupid fucking tree without so much issue.

Yeah. Planning ahead wasn’t his best feature.

It was an unfortunate trait that he began to regret more and more, finally coming to an ultimate wall when Nightmare stopped entirely, falling to his knees still holding you. Fuck, that wasn’t good--they were never going to make it down the tree at that rate, leaving you exposed and in danger up on a goddamn ledge. Griffon panted heavily, landing on the ground next to Nightmare as he sat you gently down, your head lolling to the side in your unconsciousness. The bird felt a pang of guilt as he stared at your face, taking in the dark circles under your eyes and the pallid color of your skin. You looked like hell and then some, the days events showing on you and taking their toll. Griffon felt awful. The look you wore when he saw you standing there, watching them fight…

Damn it, he didn’t like feeling this guilty. What was he supposed to do? They had fucked up, all of them including the poet. Griffon had been concerned all along that this would happen, encouraging it in the beginning but...he didn’t know then. How could the bird have imagined just how close you and V would become? At first it seemed amusing, an attempt to get V laid and loosened up a bit. But getting to know you, seeing how you interacted with him made the bird realize just how dangerous it could get. Love was never part of the plan. But V still never stopped, he went through with it despite his guilt and reservations. And that...fucking sucked.

“Shit, fuck,” Griffon panted, nosing your face with his beak and trying to will you awake, “Up and at em’, toots! We can’t go any further, you gotta pause that nap for a little bit…!”

You gave no sign of stirring, so deep under now that any and all chances of waking you were slim to none. Griffon looked up anxiously at Nightmare, meeting his glowing eye and letting out a light trill. What the hell were they supposed to do? Even the giant was at a loss, sitting back on his ass with a heavy thud and closing that eye of his. He had no juice left either. Griffon grunted lightly, trying to latch his claws onto you and hoist your body up, but he had no energy left either. You were heavier than Shakespeare--the man was a twig and you were healthy and having more...er...filled out areas.

“We’re so fucked,” Griffon groaned, slumping over your form and pressing his head to your hair, “We tried, but we’re still useless. God damn it!”

There was no response from the other familiar, which was typical. Wouldn’t stop Griffon from muttering to himself.

“We fucked up big time,” He continued to grunt, ruffling his feathers and staring ahead while he talked to no one in particular, “Could have told her in the beginning, could have saved her from all this bad shit. But no. Had to be as dumb as Shakespeare--bonus points for being an even bigger dumbass earlier.”

Nightmare made no sound, but Griffon could feel the exasperation coming from him. The bird was fighting the urge to absorb back into your body, debating if maybe Shadow could come out and drag you a bit further at the very least. But that could be a waste of energy better suited for protecting you where the other two couldn’t, Shadow being the only one who stayed in your body while they traveled downwards. The mighty cat materialized as soon as the thought popped into his skull, landing on their paws in a cloud of black dust. As much as he hated it, they would be forced to summon back for at least a little while, leaving Shadow to make sure no baddies tried to come at you.

“Stay with her for a bit,” Griffon told the cat, exhaustion in his tone from blasting so may demons on the way down. Shadow blinked their red eyes, sitting back and listening attentively to the bird as he continued, “If we play our cards right...we can move her down in bursts. Just...just gotta catch our breath.”

Shadow bowed their head, understanding flickering along the connection they shared as the cat settled along your form. Providing warmth, ears flickering as they watched over the ledge and incline downwards. Griffon knew they could last for an hour at least, providing cover and protection while Nightmare and Griffon recharged a bit. That is...unless they wouldn’t be able to--you were so injured, tank running on empty and healing on top of all of it. If you were still weak, they couldn’t very well get energy from you. It was his last thought when he and Nightmare finally succumbed to the need, turning into dust once more and taking their place under your skin.

They would reach that hurdle when it came. But if not...well. Griffon could pray for a miracle, right?

(Vergil POV)

Well. To say that Vergil’s day had been strange would be far understating the true gravity of it all.

His memories were spotty, fuzzy. A whirlwind of things from the past, the present, and things that didn’t even seem like he lived through them at all. Upon reawakening as his full, revived self his skull had rattled with things that were definitely unfamiliar to the elder son of Sparda. It was disorienting, strange, unsettling. He felt far more whole and complete than ever before, and yet...there was a sense of being disjointed, unsure of himself. He felt different, changed, unlike who he was before separating man from demon but still retaining all his base personality and desires.

Vergil still carried his mistrust of Dante, the resentment. Though it was changed now, mellowed and quiet in comparison to how he was before. It would be fair to say Vergil himself felt a lot more in control of himself compared to when he stabbed his form with the Yamato, body no longer damaged and his nightmares remaining from being Nelo Angelo seemingly...gone. But that wasn’t to say things weren’t growing more hectic and confusing by the second, mind struggling to keep up with it all whilst maintaining his usual demeanor. Those defense mechanisms were kicking in, the ones Vergil was reluctant to admit he had at all.

For one, he had memories from his demonic half. The more unsettling ones, memories of erecting the tree and the death of so many human beings. Vergil was not a man easily made uncomfortable, or guilty for that matter...but such sensations existed, and they irritated him on top of tugging at the edges of his thoughts. The memories were in his head, but they didn’t feel like his. Disjointed, the actions beyond his will and plans when he used the Yamato on himself--to be completely honest, he had not anticipated that when he did such a thing it would literally separate his two halfs entirely. The son of Sparda had convinced himself that it would merely cast away his humanity, leaving him with the same consciousness but a stronger, less brittle form. To make him wholly and completely demonic in nature.

He was not so lucky. Such actions had caused him to stumble around in two, separate forms for a while. And one cause so much death and destruction on the city Vergil wasn’t sure how to process it.

His mind focused on what it knew in an attempt to defend itself from the guilt. Dante was here, and he wanted to fight. That provided normalcy, amusement. That was something Vergil knew, remembered, and understood. A deep, burning need to defeat his brother, to prove himself stronger. It was something to root himself in reality, and he kept to that while his mind allowed it, fighting his brother like old times and reveling in his newfound strength. Vague memories of taking a bite out of the forbidden, powerful fruit lingered on the edges of his memory, explaining why he felt so spry and alive. But...it didn’t make a difference.

Dante still held his own. As always.

Why was he so strong, so powerful? He still had strength, enough so that Vergil found himself toe to toe with his brother, the one who didn’t eat the fruit at all. Maybe it was due to Vergil being distracted...he had a lot on his mind. First of all being the revelation of his son--Nero. Finding out he had spawned a child down the line was...staggering to say the least. Vergil was reluctant to admit he didn’t know when he went to get his sword back that Nero was his son, but it was pretty easy to guess in retrospect. Had he not been so broken then, sickly and dying...he could have figured it out. But he hadn’t, and he ripped off Nero’s arm without a second thought.

Did he feel guilty? He wanted to say no, mind not really dwelling on any of it too long. But...there was a twinge of something he tried to ignore. Focus on the fight, focus on beating Dante. A son is of little consequence. Right? He tried and tried not to think about it, but the knowledge was now a burden on his mind, so loud among the already chaotic thoughts and memories. He didn’t like having so much confusion, so much to worry about and that stupid, foolish guilt. That had to be why he lost to Dante, surely. All these new, chaotic thoughts had to have made him sloppy, giving his brother and edge he wouldn’t otherwise have.

And amidst all those chaotic thoughts...was you.

You were the most confusing of all the memories, Vergil unable to comprehend just what to think in regards to them. Upon waking up again, he couldn’t understand the images floating around in his consciousness, fuzzy and both familiar and unfamiliar. It was…curious. Strange. He was certain he had never met you before, but...he knew you. There was a familiarity there that he didn’t understand, so many tangling emotions pushing against his skull and only seeming to complicate things more.

Why? Why did he feel that hard ache in his chest when he saw your face? That horrified, broken expression you wore while staring at his newly awakened form. The shock, the remembrance when you attacked him--usually he would have simply pulled out his sword and struck you down. You were volatile, easily defeated in such a weak, collapsing state as you were. But he found hesitation there when he stared into your black eyes, a dull throbbing in his chest as he took in the blue streaks staining your cheeks, your lips. Why was that look you wore so upsetting? Those eyes, hollow and shattered as you begged him for answers, lips trembling and body pushing you far too much.

His first thought should have been “who is this girl? How pitiful”. But instead, he found his mind snapping to attention, realizing how much you were damaging yourself and...worrying? Surely not, but it was there. It was so perplexing to Vergil, mind reeling and trying to process even while his mouth spouted the first things he could think of.

Calling you the only name that came to mind. Sparrow. The look you wore when that name was uttered on his lips was seared into his brain--like he had slapped you across the face without realizing it. There was opportunity in such a distraction, but Vergil felt like it was a hollow victory. Like kicking a puppy.

Even after fighting Dante, then Nero in turn he couldn’t shake it. The way your tone cracked, voice wavering painfully as you asked him “why?”. Your black eyes, filling with tears and lips trembling as blow-tinted tears rolled down your cheeks.

He didn’t like that, didn’t like the thoughts and emotions he couldn’t seem so shake. Especially more intimate ones, things he surely should not have. Of cupping your cheeks, stroking your hair and touching your lips. Of you underneath him, eyes staring at him in adoration as his tattooed finger slipped over your mouth…

Such a memory was dangerous, threatening to make him falter when he should otherwise focus.

What in the world was happening to him? Those were not his hands. He bore no black tattoos, but...he remembered times where he had. Of the familiars he commanded, the manifestation of his nightmares made real. These were the memories of his human half, of that he was able to figure out fairly quickly. And that was...alarming. Why was he seeing all of these things, these images and thoughts mingled with the demonic ones as well? It left him questioning so much, torn between feeling the emotions and images as his own and like they belonged to someone else.

That was him, a part of him. He felt both connected and not.

How unbelievably confusing--Vergil was just barely able to cope with it all, maintaining himself through the fight with Nero. And that, too, lead to defeat. Why was his son so strong? He had a strange power, a curious one, holding his own perfectly fine against his father despite his diluted demonic blood. The fact that Nero came to stop the fighting at all was so perplexing to him, since he clearly meant nothing to the boy after not knowing him his whole life. Why was he so determined to try, to get between Vergil and Dante in their fights? It was irritating, but even Vergil knew when he was beat.

He tried to tell himself it was due to him fighting Dante earlier. Maybe.

But he stopped when Nero asked of it, deciding that taking down the Qliphoth was more important than defeating his brother at that moment. He wanted to be done with the tree--maybe cutting it down would cut away some of that stupid, nagging guilt pinching the back of his skull? Such thoughts made Vergil scowl, but he bit back the annoyance and settled on letting Dante come with him despite his reservations. The annoying, white-haired sibling provided a distraction that Vergil felt he needed with everything going on.

Nero also asked about you, like he expected you to already be up with the other two when he arrived. That made Vergil both surprised and uneasy, the idea of seeing you again was...a strange one. Dante explained to the worried boy that he had sent you back down the tree, but didn’t elaborate in the slightest bit. They had a job to do, a tree to cut down in the underworld.

As for Nero, he wasn’t allowed to come. A single, hard placed fist to the face from the brothers sent him flying back, sprawling on his ass several feet away. Vergil admired his dedication, but he was another thing the cold man really didn’t want to think about while they cut down the damned tree. Besides, he had things to take care of on the surface and had no place in hell like the rest of them. He was filled with that humanity Vergil didn’t care for, emotional and brash through the entire fight and filled to the brim with resentment. He wanted to prove himself, with Vergil didn’t have the patience for.

“Take care, Nero,” Dante said with a smile and a salute, stepping back while the boy sat up and stared at them both with annoyance, “Adios.”

He leapt off the side of the Qliphoth, turning into his Sin Devil Trigger form and gliding down toward where the portal opened below. Vergil lingered for a moment, meeting Nero’s eyes and sizing him up one more time. He did certainly look like him, there in that furrowed brow and in his eyes and lips. But his attitude and emotions were very reminiscent of Dante, who definitely had a hand in shaping who Nero had become. Vergil let out a low hum of amusement, a bit of a smirk curving his lips as he pulled out the book he acquired as a child.

“I won’t lose next time,” He promised, tone full of cold challenge as he tossed the leather-bound novel onto the floor in front of his son, “Hold onto that until then.”

It was a declaration, and also...a reassurance. That he and Dante would return, despite how cut and dry things seemed. And he would come back--there was a score to settle now. He wanted to see just how powerful his son could be, a rematch after he wasn’t so scattered in the head. Distracted. That was what he blamed for so many losses after another--surely he would do better if he didn’t have so many confusions and concerns.

Vergil turned, sparing Nero one last glance before he launched himself up, turning into his own blue Sin Devil Trigger form and diving in the direction Dante had taken. The rush of air past his armored body felt good after the stagnant heat of the Qliphoth, wings gliding him quickly downward to reach the portal he had caused. Up in the air, the destruction was plain to see--the Earth cracked, buildings ruined, broken roots lining the streets down below that were now empty of human life. The tree itself was ugly, an annoying eyesore despite the fact that it had lead to Vergil gaining more power, devouring its fruit and regaining his vitality. And what good that did him--he still lost to the other two. Still lacking, it would seem.

And what an annoying thought that was. The fact that despite all his efforts, he was still lacking the necessary strength to fight his brother. So many failed attempts had only ended in ruin, and now several deaths added to the price paid for the sake of power. Vergil was...tired. Too tired at that moment to maintain the level of anger he needed to keep his drive. The events of the month or so had left him different, and he needed to figure out whether he embraced the changes or not. It seemed like something worth thinking about briefly as he followed Dante’s path.

Vergil’s eyes scanned the tree on his way down, taking in the curling roots, the way it curved into the sky. It definitely needed to be destroyed, it served no purpose now but to be a reminder for how much things had gone poorly. It was already on the verge of dying, grey and turning brittle now that the fruit was--

He saw something that made him halt.

His wings pounded hard, sending up gusts of wind as he stopped his velocity in its tracks. In this form, his eyes were sharper, so he definitely wasn’t mistaking what he was seeing. There, on a ledge halfway down the tree. You were unmistakable--body prone on its side and the familiar form of Shadow curled protectively around you. Vergil hovered in the air, staring at you lying there unconscious with that nagging sensation pressing on the edges of his skull again. What the hell were you doing laying there? Dante claimed he had sent you back down, but it would seem you didn’t make it all the way. Something about that annoyed him--why would Dante send you back down in such a state?

She reached her limit, his mind thought on its own, it’s dangerous there. It came without him even thinking, the nagging voice in his brain urging him to help you. Instinctive. His clawed fingers clenched into fists, a low growl emanating from his glowing chest cavity as he trying to decide what to do. He had a job to do, a task to focus on that didn’t involve you in the slightest bit.

But...there was that feeling again, pressing to his chest at the sight of you lying there. Looking broken and tired, body curled up next to his former nightmare and not moving. And what was that about? Why was Shadow still around, the manifestation of his abominable thoughts sitting with you like a protective house cat? Dante failed to mention that you were being helped down by them, but it seemed to not be working out to begin with. Foolish. Vergil would have scowled if this form allowed it, his eyes narrowing slightly as he debated for a few more seconds what to do. That sensation grew, moving him closer without thinking so he could see your face, the way your hair pooled around your head. You looked exhausted, you looked...not like yourself.

Guilt.

God damn it.

Vergil growled again, wishing he could even remotely understand what he was feeling. He felt like a fool, body moving on its own and flying over to your ledge. Shadow looked up at the sound of beating wings, eyes narrowing and baring their teeth at the demonic male. He saw them jolt in the next instant, recognition flashing in those bright red eyes as they realized just who he was. How absurd it had to be, to see the very person that they once used to be a part of. Vergil landed, not breaking eye contact with the glorified house cat and watching how their pelt rippled warily with glowing patterns, ears flat against their skull. No friendliness left for their former master, it would seem. They certainly didn’t look happy to see him, curling around you more and lip curling up in warning.

Vergil tilted his gaze to you, making Shadow leap up and snarl loudly in threat, back arched and claws scraping against the greying ground. Vergil wasn’t fazed--Shadow was the manifestation of bad thoughts, made into a demon that he could easily defeat. But he took in your form, realizing by the changes he saw that the familiars now had to be yours. Tattoos lined your arms, a single part of your hair now black as it draped over your face. He remembered then, a brief few flashes of images that made him lose focus for a moment. Images of you with Griffon on your shoulders, laughing and grinning. Of you teary eyed, beaming as you kissed the top of Shadow’s head like they were a big, fluffy cat. Charming his nightmares like it was nothing, loving them despite what they were.

God damn it.

“If she stays here,” He said to the growling demon, tone warped and demonic as his wings folded against his body, “She will die. With her this weak, you won’t be able to sustain yourself for long.”

Shadow’s ears pressed tighter to their skull, eyes glaring daggers at him as another growl burst forth. That spoke their message loud and clear.

Vergil clicked his tongue, half turning away from the cat as he replied coldly, “If you wish for her to die, then so be it.” He didn’t have the patience for this, but...his feet felt rooted to the spot.

I can’t just leave her there.

But why?

Shadow let out a low, distressed sound, gently lapping at one of your cheeks in an attempt to wake you up. For a moment, Vergil felt a twinge of concern that you may be dead. But your chest was rising and falling, eyelashes twitching against your cheeks as you slept away all the pain. Your breaths were short and pained, he saw you wince occasionally and curl up on yourself more. His fingers twitched at his side, Vergil clenching his jaw when he realized he had to physically push down the urge to stroke one of your cheeks. What was happening to him? And why?

But Shadow seemed to sense his confusion, staring at him with red eyes far too knowing as he struggled with himself. Even in this form, they were able to read his expression, bowing their head to him for a moment before raising it again. There was a warning in that sharp gaze, one that clearly said if anything would happen to you Shadow would tear him to pieces. Or at least...they would try. The mighty cat then turned into swirling dust, absorbing back into your tattoos and making them darker now on the one side. Home, it would seem.

Vergil didn’t want to waste any more time, walking slowly closer to you and crouching down next to your body. Inside he was a storm of emotions and confusion, unable to understand his own thoughts and instincts anymore. What had become of him when he split himself in two? His human half was far more busy than he had ever thought capable...far stronger now. These emotions definitely felt human in nature. There was no mistaking that.

He pushed back his reservations, sliding his clawed hands under you and lifting you up into his arms. You were so light, body curling up against his hard chest and still out like a light. Something about this felt...Vergil couldn’t place his finger on the term. He resisted the urge to hold you closer, to press his face to your hair and inhale. He could smell it, the faintest hint of apples from you. Foolish, he told himself harshly, turning and launching himself off the edge again with those mighty wings. The movement jostled you, but there was no sign of waking. Only a soft whimper of pain, one that started that dull ache in his chest again as he carried himself swiftly upward again.

He couldn’t just take you down below and deposit you on the street. That was equally, if not more dangerous. Vergil could not see the van either, his best other option was to leave you with the only person he knew would take care of you. The thought triggered another memory, one of you walking and talking with Nero, smiling warmily as he talked about his fiance at home. The boy was your friend, wasn’t he? Vergil swallowed his pride and annoyance, knowing full well the best course of action would to hand you off to Nero before heading back down. Dante could wait and wonder where he was for a few more moments.

Vergil wasn’t shocked when he saw Nero still standing where he left him, staring at the book and flipping through the pages. He looked annoyed, an expression that morphed to shock when Vergil crested over the ledge and into sight. Nero was by far the easiest person to read that Vergil had ever known. His face went through several emotions as he registered that his father had returned moments later. First being shock, then aggravation, then more shock when he saw you, landing on relief and worry.

He will take care of you. Of that, there was no doubt.

“Y/N!” Nero exclaimed, rushing forward when Vergil landed and tucking the book into his jacket. The demonic male held out his arms automatically for the boy to take you, but it felt...stiff. Like his body didn’t want to let you go. He tried to keep his expression in this form neutral, but his eyes lingered on your sleeping face as it moved away, now resting against Nero as the boy continued on, “Where the fuck did you find her?! I thought Dante said she was making her way down…!”

Vergil snorted, turning away with a growled, “She made it halfway down. The familiars couldn’t carry her the full way.”

“The familiars?” Nero blinked, taking in all of your new tattoos with even more shock as he settled your limp body more steadily, “What the...hey!” He protested when Vergil started walking back to the edge, the sound of his footsteps sounding as he followed behind, “Wait a goddamn second!”

Vergil didn’t slow, eager to get away and back on task. No more distractions. But Nero had other plans, one of his ghost-arms whipping out to grab Vergil by the shoulder, forcing him to halt in place. The older male turned, face conveying a barely-veiled threat as his firey gaze met Nero’s. The boy wasn’t fazed by his anger in the slightest bit, which was either courageous or absolutely foolish on his part. He was certainly a lot like Dante. Vergil’s other hand twitched, resisting the urge to summon the Yamato and whack at his wrist with the sheath--remind him of who took his old arm to begin with.

Nero’s eyes were sharp, staring him down with intensity as he held you firmly in his arms. Vergil tried to focus on his face instead of yours. He was speaking, after all.

“You remember her, don’t you?” It was just too bad that what Nero was saying turned out to be exactly the conversation he didn’t want to have. Vergil felt his hand twitch again, resisting the urge to just fight again so he could move the topic onto something else, or at least distract Nero long enough to make his way back to the portal.

“...Get her back to the van,” He replied coldly, turning his eyes forward again as he continued, “I have things to do, and no time to waste on this.”

Nero scoffed, hand still firmly clamped on his arm as he replied, “Yeah? Yet you took the time to bring her up to me, could have left her behind. I could have seen her on my way down, but you didn’t want to take the chance did y--”

Vergil let out a low growl, summoning the Yamato and whipping its sheath around at Nero. It startled the boy enough to let go, using that arm to block the blow as he leapt back with you in his arms. The movement barely jostled you, your head resting calmly against his shoulder and eyes still closed. Vergil spared that one last glance, loathing the feeling that the sight of you brought before he turned away, starting forward again with purposeful footsteps. This had wasted time he should have spent focusing on his task, and that alone spoke volumes to how messed up his head had to be. Before all of this, he would have sailed right by you on that ledge, without a single care. But…

Those times were gone.

Nero let out an annoyed growl as he walked, rasping under his breath, “You really are a bastard, you know that?” He straightened up, glaring holes into Vergil’s back as he made his way for the edge again, “She really cared about V, and you’re just gonna walk away from all of that?”

Vergil paused again, tips of his demonic feet touching the very edge of the precipice. Something about Nero’s words made him...irritated. Hearing that name, “V”, and hearing about how much you cared. It didn’t feel right, but it didn’t feel wrong either. All it served to do was kick up that nagging guilt again, the one that made that part of his chest ache incessantly. His teeth grouns slightly, the sensation strange in this form that was so far from human. It wasn’t like him, so different from how he was before that he didn’t know how to process who he was becoming. To focus on anything but the tasks at hand was so out of character, shocking to even he, the one who prided himself on his focus.

“There is nothing to walk away from,” He said coldly, not sparing a glance back as his hand clenched into a fist, “Her feelings for a man that doesn’t exist anymore have nothing to do with me.”

With that, he took a step off the edge, hearing Nero growl in annoyance as he did so. The rush of air past his body felt a lot less soothing now, the roar filling his ears as his wings unfurled to glide him back down. That ache refused to leave, no matter how much distance he put between himself and you. It felt like something was pushing forward on his consciousness, loud and furious about the blatant lie he had told Nero about you. It urged him to turn around, to make sure you got to your destination safe. Apologize. It made him want to punch the nearest object, which if he played his cards right would soon be Dante waiting down below.

Don’t leave her again, That voice in the back of his head whispered, Look how much damage I caused. Fix it. You have to fix this.

He couldn’t turn around. There was so much to do, so many things to fix and a tree to cut down. He continued downward, trying to ignore that sensation looming over him like a persistent rain cloud. Like hands trying to pull him back, following him down as the portal loomed ever closer. Crackling, glowing purple and glowing with demonic energy. Focus, he needed to keep his eyes on the task. He would join in his brother in hell, setting about destroying the roots of the Qliphoth and dealing the portal to hell. But after that…

After that, he would be forced to address these new, persistent thoughts.

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#devil may cry v #devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #dmc5 #dmc v #V dmc #V x Reader #v x self insert #spirit writes fanfic #fanfic #chapter 27 #Ebony and Ivory #ebony and ivory chapter 27 #vergil #nero #dmc nero

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