I'LL MAKE THE ANGELS SCREAM (AND THE DEVIL CRY.)

CHALLENGE: A barren island has sprung up near the Swirling Gulf, hosting a dormant gate to hell. Mundus is trying to use it to reach Spirale itself.  ████ ████ ████, ████ decides ████ ████ ████████ ████ ████████ host ████ unleash ████████ ████ ████ island, ████████ suppresses ████ ████ ████████ ████ ████ ████ ████████.  ████████ ████ ████████ overcome ████████ █████, ████████ ████ ███████ ████ ████ ████ ████ ████████ ████ ████.  ████ ████ ████████ ████ opens, ████ ████ ████████ ████ ████ painfully ████ ████ abyss ████████ ████████ ████ ████████.  ████ ████ ████ thread ████████ drabble.

hi howdy fellas i miss my boysons and my evil drow wife but the mental is abysmal rn so i sent in a hiatus request. hoping to get active again when i get me life in a semblance of an order and expecting to start writing again in increments starting with later lifting nero’s hiatus, then the valsharess’s, then sparda’s. dropping my warrior of light, miss gloria attlas, and the radiance from HK for now.

     The beach, eh? That does seem to be the most suitable place to set these up. He spotted several other people making their own preparations all along the coast line, but it certainly won’t be impossible to find free space. But before Vergil can even nod in agreement, the pull on his sleeve is enough to momentarily break his typically-unbreakable expression.

          “Mm—? There’s no rush, Nero—“

     A girl? Hm, it must be that small child Nero’s been spending time with… But perhaps she is somewhat a partial-excuse for Nero’s own excitement. Vergil is stubborn enough to not start sprinting, but he will budge enough for a steady, brisk pace to close the distance faster.

“Hey! You got lead in your ass, or what?” He calls from further ahead, “Can’t just bring a whole box of loaded fireworks over then drag your heels!” He probably shouldn’t be so giddy in front of his father, but after everything, the trials of the last few months, he can’t be assed to be self-conscious. Not right now, anyway.

“Right here!” Nero says, settling at the first and closest open spot on the dunes. He brushes the sand around with his boot, an innocent attempt at making the surface a little flatter. Though his efforts are rendered moot as he shuffles from foot to foot, antsy as he waits for Vergil to catch up--

     The jump made to save time was expected— Vergil himself may have done the same, albeit with more… finesse. But something about the manner the boy carried himself, the gleam in his eye… It’s a subtle touch of excitement he didn’t expect from Nero. Ah, best for Vergil to downplay the mild surprise the best he can— shifting his gaze between the box and the boy, he continues.

          “I felt certain that you or Dante would have just pestered me if I didn’t…“ And don’t go thinking the redacted remark didn’t go unnoticed, Nero. “At any rate, I’ll leave that decision up to you. There are some smaller ones near the bottom if you wish to space things out for the night.”

“Up to me, huh?” He says, turning the firework over in his hand, “Alright, then. Turn your ass around. We’re goin’ to the beach to set them up.” Placing it back in the box, his pace picks up as he grabs Vergil by the sleeve and does a 180, looking up to the balcony to holler, “Kyrie! I’ll be right back! Keep an eye on the beach... and make sure the girl’s watchin’!”

Out of anyone to be delighted by a show of fireworks, he thinks, a child would love it most. “C’mon! Clock’s tickin’!” he barks to Vergil, very visibly itching to run, if not sprint to the beach.

He was up on the balcony when he saw the old man approach; instead of taking the stairs like a normal person, he vaults nonchalantly over the rails, landing on the ground several stories below on both feet with all the nonchalance of a child hopping into a puddle. “Was beginnin’ to think you were gonna be a no-show,” he remarks, listening to Vergil as he takes it upon himself to pick up one of the fireworks, looking it over before he realizes.

errantkatana​.

[I’m the last person to ask how much time has passed, Nero.] 

>“Did you tell V what was happening before?” 

Zero clings back, phone set aside as the call goes dead. To be the only person beside him right now…Holding less onto hope and more onto hatred.

If he isn’t here soon…no, he’ll handle himself. He’ll hold out as long as has to. For Nero. Hatred and rage are quiet fuel beneath his lungs. Breath steady, free hand on his katana. The light sound of your grip tightening in frustration. 

The fact the Stars would do such a thing. 

The fact this Mundus is causing so much pain to Nero, with almost nothing to stop it. Making him break, like he is. He puts his head against Nero’s, his body a steady pillar, his voice resolute. 

It’s been…a while since he’s been like this. 

His hand on Nero’s shoulder, grip tight. 

>“Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. Whatever it comes to.” 

[I’ll go through purgatory again if I have to.] 

             ❝  NO—  ❞ a lithe shadow steps into the room, a muted urgency frosting his tone, ❝  we will do what is necessary.  ❞

       V stands beside them now, overlooking the pair with a steeled resolve as he leans heavily upon his cane… although the waver in his expression betrays him. his eyes flicker to zero, and then to the boy. he asks the question at the forefront of his mind— a finer detail, but a nonetheless important one to discuss before the situation gets out of hand.

             ❝  … where’s kyrie?  ❞

    ☛    @devilbring​.

V’s voice stirs him-- not enough to fully come to his senses, but enough that he stops groaning through grit teeth, enough that he stills for a moment. Before a trembling breath escapes him and he blinks himself back into focus, looking desperately between Zero and V before he shakes his head at Zero.

He never told V how bad it got. “Hansol and I...” he starts, “We... there was...” He spaces out again, a crease forming across the bridge of his nose, and he presses his brow against Zero’s chest. Voice abruptly dropping to a shaky whisper: “I can’t-- think-- I can’t remember--”

A panic starts to set in when he realizes that he can’t recall either of their names. Sweat drips from his brow, and he wants to scream in frustration. Only intensifying when he tries to remember his own name, and that too eludes him.

He can feel himself slipping, the veins crawling across his flesh until V speaks that name, and then he starts, fear clear in his eyes. “She’s...” In the house, he wants to say, knowing that he slipped out of the bed, out of her arms before this all started. He can recall flashes of her voice, her face in the midst of the chaos, and though he looks around for her, he can’t immediately see her. “She’s here,” He says, almost breathless.

“I can’t hurt her,” he pleads all of a sudden, trying to struggle to his feet-- basest instincts telling him that he needs to get up and put as much distance as he can between himself and her. Nero stumbles immediately, every movement exasperating his fight, and collapses half on the arm of the couch beside them. “I would rather-- fucking die-- than hurt her...!”

He yells, completely unaware of how she can probably hear him. Hell, the neighbours too. “I’m running out of time--” he gasps. Familiar words he doesn’t realize he’s echoed. It hurts to open his eyes, to look up at V. He’s addressing the both of them, but he can’t muster the will to turn his head. “You’re... you’ve got to...”

[Easy on the booze for me or for you?] 

[What are you praising me for…?] 

>”You got it.” 

He only puts a little in Nero’s, as he was requested; but while he’s gone, Zero puts a little more in his own, sipping it down before adding a bit more. Just so it looks like he hasn’t even taken a sip of it yet. 

At the very least, he puts the rum away in one of the cupboards, struggling to reach the shelf in a way to discourage himself from pulling it out later. 

Putting on the coat, he brings his drink with him, handing Nero his, without ice by default, because, well, he forgot to ask. And so they end up on the balcony, Zero staring out at the Christmas lights, warm and different from the struggling neon landscape and blinding sky-towers he’s used to seeing. 

“What were you gonna say?” 

Truth be told, he knows so little about alcoholic drinks and what he personally likes that he doesn’t have a preference either way-- and would never think to ask for ice. Nero brushes off the rails so he can lean his arms against it as he takes a reluctant sip. Though he tries to hide it, there’s still a slight wrinkle of his nose and a disgusted smack of the lips at the faint tinge of booze he can taste.

“I was just gonna say that I...” again he chokes on his own admission, despite how harmless it is. Though he’s an open book, he always pretends he isn’t-- and openly confessing his happiness is still a struggle. “I’m glad I know you. And I’m glad that... I’ve got you in my corner.”

This is by far one of the best holiday gifts ever! Most of the things she’s ever dreamed of is coming true. Nero is one of the best fighters she knows. She hasn’t seen him in ACTION with an enemy, but she’s seen what he can do. She can only imagine him being even more bad ass so of course naturally she’s excited. 

That grin on her face doesn’t seem to want to leave and it only gets wider. Ismael could go on and on about how she’s ESTATIC but that’d take all day and ALL night.

“Oh! Right, right. YES, I’m done~!” She says with a laugh, placing her hands behind her back. SHE really hopes he likes his. Ismael even has both eyes shut tight, but peeks slightly with one eye.

He starts opening up the package, only to stop and give her an amused quirk of the brow. “What are you closin’ your eyes for? It’s not even your surprise,” he says, a tease, before he continues.

Slowing when he realizes he’s unveiling a book, then tugging it free of its confines to run his fingers across the cover, front and back, even flipping through a few pages. “Ain’t that somethin’,” he says, quite pleased in his own demure way, “Maybe I can actually start workin’ a few better mods for CE. Thanks, Ismael. This is really neat.”

And then the smaller box-- it’s not too hard to figure out what’s inside, given how light and tiny it is, but his eyes still light up a little when he pulls out the bracelet, quick to drape it across his wrist to see how it looks with the corded bracelets he usually wears. “Pretty soon I’m gonna be janglin’ like I’ve got a pocketful of change everywhere I go,” he remarks, almost overlooking the earring. “Not that I’m complainin’. All of this... I appreciate it a lot. Nine out of ten,” he says with a straight face, before he gives a cheeky little huff of a laugh and corrects:

She never actually imagined she’d get Nero’s handcrafted anything. It never really crossed her mind that it’d be a possibility. Oh, she’s super excited to try these babies out! 

But what’s even more surprising? What he just says. It’s evident that it takes her a moment to process what was just said and she’s blinking a few times. “Wait…Are you serious?” Ismael gasps, “WHO are you and what did you do to Nero?” He had been SO against it before, but that doesn’t matter now because he’s willing to give her some advice. She’s going to need them! 

Setting the scope and stabilizer down and she approaches him once she gets back on her feet. He better be prepared for a kiss on the cheek and a, “I love ya!”

He’s been kissed by precisely three people in his entire life: Kyrie, of course. Zero, that one time, and now this. He startles visibly, tensing before his sound hand rises to press against his cheek... and subtly, oh-so-subtly, tries to wipe it off. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the gesture; that much is clear by the compromised expression on his face. He’s just weird like that.

“Look,” he replies a little seriously, “I just get how much it sucks ass to... ugh, forget about it. Point is, I’ll give you a hand. If it can give you a leg up if you ever actually need to defend yourself, then it’ll be worth it.”

 [I don’t think breathing is what I need.] 

>“…”

A room full of mostly strangers (to you), conversing easily and relaxing about a usually quiet house. Thinking about it, you really don’t consider anyone in here your friend except for Nero. 

No, maybe your standards for what a ‘friend’ is, is kind of rough. Your concept of friends, family, they’re all things you’re still learning. Still getting used to. You don’t exactly feel like you belong, yet you live here–yet, there’s still something vaguely cozy about it all. 

You finish cutting what looks like a shoddy cube of ice with a hand knife, setting it in a whiskey glass. And, knowing how Nero’s been watching him, keeping him distracted…well, nothing really keeps away the way your eyes seem to gaze past most tangible things. 

“Yeah.” He ends up fashioning a coke and rum, instead of his initial idea of just alcohol, and pauses before he puts it away; “Uh, you want one..?” 

“Yeah, I’ll take one. Easy on the booze, though.” He says, after a moment of thought-- or maybe hesitance. “You make that. I’ll grab you a coat.”

While she’s waiting for him, she’s digging in her bag and pulls out her own box shaped present for him. “Double items are always the best!” She says with a laugh. She gives him his and she holds onto her gift from him, “I was stumped for a bit. Wasn’t sure what to get you, but,” She says all the while opening up her present.  

Her eyes lights up like the Christmas Tree and an amazed ‘whoa’ escapes her with a breathy chuckle, “Dude….You made this?” She’s can’t pull her eyes away. She’s studying every detail. In fact, she’s sitting on his floor, running her fingers along. “This is TOTALLY bad ass! YOU’RE totally BADASS.” 

His gift? A book about tinkering different machines. It may come in handy since he IS in a world with different machineries and then another box. Inside the box there’s An earring in the shape of a sword and a silver bracelet.

He takes her gift in hand and seats himself on the foot of the bed in the meantime, far more interested in her reaction for now. And when she seems delighted, he exhales in relief, the corners of his lips turning up in a small smile. “Told you... back when I was in the Order, I modified weapons all the time.” There’s a pause as his smile fades, look growing more stern, but not wholly directed at her. “I know I gave you a bit of crap back when you first started tryin’ to learn to shoot...”

And he’s not talking about the lighthearted japes. “If you still wanted to learn some fighting techniques, I’m really not all that sure I’d be a good teacher, but I can try and give you some pointers sometime.”

“Whoa, really?” Setting her drink down, Ismael stands to follow Nero behind. 

“eheh, I got something for ya, too! Time for gift exchanging~.”

He smiles, lopsided, at her comment-- but he’s not facing her when he does. Pulling the closet open, he kneels to sift through a small collection of wrapped gifts on the floor until he pulls out a box roughly the size ( but not shape ) of a fiddle. “Alright, let’s see what’cha got,” he says, offering it to her, diverting his gaze. “Hope it’s not something you already have.”

Inside is a bow stabilizer and a scope. Not storebought, but carefully crafted, the only tell of it being custom the telltale engravings in the rods in the same sort of style as his very own Blue Rose. Only instead of flowers, it’s a music staff, the notes upon the staff reflecting-- roughly, from memory-- the song she played for him on her violin so long ago.