there's a fluttering of wings that comes to a halt when the tiny black bird lands upon his shoulder with its' giant golden eye blinking once. gaze's head twitches over in a notable tilt while it seemed to glare ever vacantly at the face of the male. "WORRY." it squawked out, vocal mimicry of the very man it had been sitting upon. though after a blink its beak leans in to rub against his cheek.
➣ . The weight of living was a burden Vergilius was keenly familiar with. To have survived when he'd thought to die was a sin he had been forced to grow accustomed to and forced to bear time && time again.
But there had always been reason for him to live. A job. A duty. A promise. He had to live, for he was the only one who could. And yet, it was difficult for him to hold onto that when those reasons had all been said && done, && the last remaining threads of promises became increasingly sparse of lacking for him to truly believe in.
Moving in with Dante had made things clearer, made it easier to breathe, unwilling to let the manager ( no longer the manager ) see his weaknesses. Lest they were to do something so foolish as worry over what amounted to nothing.
...Yet on days where Dante found themselves away... when time began to slip from his grip... he found himself unable wanting to do little more than to stay lying down when he woke up with the weight of his sins pressing down upon his chest.
However such coveted respite of sloth was far too indulgent for him to have, the flimsy threat that Dante might return early just enough to have him crawling out of bed, moving to the living room instead where he tried to keep in mind the possibility — such horribly selfish hope — in order to prevent further spiraling... only for his meager strength to continue to wane. Yet he had to be strong, not for himself, never for himself, but for the people around him. For Dante.
...And as of late... for the bird's as well. A reminder brought to him in form of loud screech from Dante's pet abnormality, one that would have typically irritated him on better days, yet now...
" ... " the sound garnered little reaction from Vergilius. His eyes still distant, lost in memories, lost in grief, lost in sin.
...But it was persistent, as always, && gradually... slowly... he was brought back to reality. The past would forever haunt him, but the vibrancy of memories fade as the numbness recedes its tides — gone for now with promise of return, yet he'd made peace with that fate long ago — bringing forth a prickling sensation of needles crawl across his body, allowing reality to sink into his skin && settle deep into the crevices of his cracked heart.
" ...Haah... " he still struggled to find words, his throat clogged up && choked by guilt, &&, truthfully, the idea of speaking made him nauseous. Still, Vergilius made an effort for its sake, " ...There's... There's no need to worry for me, Gaze. " His tongue felt clumsy && awkward in his mouth, the words a murmured whisper, barely audible past the hoarseness of his voice.
He knew his feeble reassurances would only draw further ire from the Gazing Bird, as would his pitiful attempt of a smile, but habit was habit, && he was still human, susceptible as any other to such things.
...Attempt that lasted but a moment as he found himself unable to keep it up for long. &&.. && Vergilius sighed again. Tension in his shoulders remained... the past demanding his attention... but the bird was truly relentless && he was left with little choice but to accept its attempts of comfort, finally blinking — if only for a brief moment — as he rests his head against their feathered form. Letting the warmth of a living being chase away the frozen over hell of his memories. There was still plenty to be reckoned with... but for now...
He would let himself rest in the abnormality's company.
" ... " words continued to remain entrapped within his throat, leaving him tasting acid at his attempts. Still, with numb hand, he brought it up to the bird && stroked the top of its head as gently as he could, clumsier still than if he were returned to clarity in full, but a genuine gesture nevertheless... A quiet thank you, thank you for being there, that... that Vergilius hoped it could understand.
