"you look nothing like her."
of all the things that can be whispered in an intimate moment, when your gazes are still fixed to each other like the draw of two magnets, this probably isn't the one that should have come to vergil first, but you remain still. waiting. you've learned by now that loving vergil is an ordeal of patience, of slowing yourself to anger, doubt or fear, of learning to listen before running in the opposite direction.
vergil's hand still cups the side of your cheek tenderly. the ghost of his lips still haunts the skin of your face and neck. you wait for a moment, and a small smile on his features.
"i mean my mother. eva." it's said before you can ask, as if he could see the gears you've put to a physical stop to turning in your head.
"i'm only saying it because you don't look like her, but you still manage to remind me of her."
he lets out a chuckle that isn't humorless but is rather wistful, and his hand drops from your face, but you catch it on its way down, squeezing. still there. always.
the passionate kiss you've just shared in one of fortuna's alleyways is suddenly an afterthought as the two of you step over a few fallen demonic corpses and start your path back to your lodgings for the night. vergil's grip readjusts so that he's holding yours, rather than you holding his - so stubborn even down to minutiae.
it's that detailed spirit you find you like so much about him, however.
"if you're afraid, you don't always show it."
your eyes furrow, and vergil notices. "you can't possibly take offense to that," he starts.
"not offended, but... i'm not that brave."
vergil doesn't pause a stride.
"well, you don't fear me when you should."
vergil about a year ago would make you experience fear, just on a whim, just to prove something to himself. but today's vergil, your vergil, laughs once, a little too loudly, then stands still before presses a kiss to your forehead.
you look at him quizzically for a moment, but then you see it, a trace of black ichor that blends into the locks of his white hair -
demon blood, not so different from that which runs in his veins. blood he spilled so comfortably it was an afterthought.
and yet your very human blood always stays cool, fearless in the wake of those icy blue eyes, and that too smooth, alabaster-white skin.
perhaps in this, you start to understand what he means.
sparda may have been many things to eva, but he never scared her.
and you... vergil will never evoke anything but affection, regardless of how long you live.