aerigil
what if i buried the light inside you
@vbooked
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(⠀⠀cb + drop super sorry for my disappearance!!⠀⠀)
what if i buried the light inside you
*looking at u* the realer vergil.
@_mostwanted_ ;; vergil squints his eyes⠀⠀-⠀⠀sharp, silver, located upon the bloodied blade shoved close, within proximity of body and self. he silently gazes at the scene before him⠀⠀..⠀⠀carefully observing the fallen victim and the woman above the body. the secrecy implied that his death was likely in vain, the victim of something too gruesome, too foul to explain, yet he felt nothing to the poor man before them. finally, vergil breaks the pregnant pause ⠀⠀-⠀⠀"you have my silence," he confirms, "but.. why did he die?"
(⠀⠀cb + drop super sorry for my disappearance!!⠀⠀)
"ouch – " the little girl huffed as she knocked into something, or someone, rather. she stumbled only slightly before she lifted her head, peaking out from under the large hood that covered most of her face. "sorry ... "
• @vbooked • her ears twitch lightly as fawna stares up at the stranger. she gives a slow nod and takes a couple steps back, fingers anxiously playing with the fabric of her cloak. "i'm okay. hard to see with this thing," she complains with an annoyed huff.
@fawnism ;; vergil stares with a strange harshness, misdirected, perhaps .. for a moment, he is silent in consideration. the squint of his eye slackens slightly, relaxation .. ? this was just a child .. and not someone worth scolding for the misbehavior and carelessness, "these things happen, it's fine," he assures, "are you alright .. ?"
(⠀⠀what if you checked out my mb/s :thumbs up:⠀⠀)
(⠀⠀cb, specify maybe?⠀⠀)
(⠀⠀if you see this (at any time) cb or drop!!⠀⠀)
// late but here ya go // Uhm-…hi. Are you okay? You don’t look too good.”
@-BloodTrauma ;; vergil peels his hand away from himself, fingerless gloves almost rotted, fingers marred with slices and cuts, new and old. his eyes shift to that of the figure beyond him, unbeknownst to him. there is no name to use, but he supposes that he is .. the exact same to the stranger. he could imagine that his partially crumpled and defeated state of stance could cause some interest, but, somehow, it was unexpected. vergil's gaze lands sharply on that of the inquirer, he uses his hand to wipe away the blood that cascaded from a gash near his forehead, somewhat preventing the flow from further blinding him. "is this .. sarcasm?" he questions, somewhat skeptical, somewhat hostile - it was hard to necessarily not understand why. he was wounded, seemingly unguarded -- things worthy of frustration or hostility. but he was vulnerable, weak, powerless .. things that he hated to be, things that fell in to personal preference .. things that were harder to understood if not spoken.
[ I attempted. woohoo yippee hooray ] { the faint sounds of burning fire. shining gold, yellow markings from the rage. growling comes from the rage, the fire sparking. fire was one of the few ways to calm this ... thing, down. but at this point it doesn't work. the rage never calms down now. } rage ... burn ... never calm down, stay away.
@demonichate ;; it was .. animalistic, would it be considered frightening? vergil does not fret, it works oppositional, it works to vaguely intrigue. he does not quite understand it, the warring emotions - sorrow, rage. they were familiar emotions, to which vergil dare not admit, but he understood what sorts of things gave birth to them, from things as little as .. temperament to events, curses, trauma, and the like. the colors, there was something almost poetic about it, but it was not a time to be thinking of poetry and symbolism in a raging .. thing. dehumanizing as the term may be, 'beast', 'creature', and such terms felt worse. perhaps vergil understood .. something about it, something about feeling uncontrollable, unlike oneself. to be so human, but to be the furthest thing from it all the same. he stares at it, silent for a bit of a thoughtful and pregnant pause, "i will not come further," he announces. vergil remains a man of his word, instead, he takes a step or two backwards to further the distance between them, "is there a way to bring you / out / of this state?" calm, collected - vergil wanted nothing but a game plan to work with.
[ remaking my response !!! ] { the dark figure became more normal sized, turning into this light yellow version. it looked ... sad? but also with rage. it puts out the fire, red tears pouring out of its eyes. it wanted to be alone, but it wanted someone to help. } { it growls. the yellow eyes radiation fear a rage. the red tears on the ground. it looks, pupils going thin. the thing continued to growl, in anger. } { it looks cautious. and breathing raspy. the worn out bandages on its arms and legs making a huge difference to the rage. } stay back ... // @vbooked
@demonichate ;; (⠀⠀HYPEEE⠀⠀) fire, an ever-consistent and reoccurring thematic symbology .. forever attached to vergil, a looming sort of thing that never ceased its persistence. perhaps, this is haunting, but it is never acknowledged as such. the nodachi in vergil's hand is palmed, quick to react .. almost as hasty and nasty as a trigger-finger, in the form of a blade. before the yamato can be pulled, before the half-demon could fade into mindless bloodshed and give in to his wild and impulsive behavior, he stopped. what it was, it had the humanity to plead .. no, warn. the yamato is settled into her respective sheath and he allows the blade to dangle on the flower-patterned lanyard. "you're enraged?" he questions - if it could communicate, even in this state of prolonged rage, then he supposed so could he. he knows not how long it has left before it possibly lost control .. so vergil kept his distance, he kept away per the order.
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