By Blood Connected
A Fan-Fiction by VirM.
Chapter 34:
"The Capability"
I stood there a moment, caught in his gaze like a bird in the jaws of a cat, unable to move or breathe or think. It was only when Vergil broke the contact to offer me his arm that I was forcibly hurled back into reality. My blush could not be any deeper.
I fully expected Vergil to lead me to the front of the house and possibly to the limo, but instead he gently pulled me towards the back of the house, and, hence, the walkway to the beach.
"Vergil?" I asked as he opened the back veranda doors. "Where are we—?"
He turned and held a finger to his lips for a moment, shushing me. His eyes glittered with mirth as he took my arm once more.
"You'll see," he murmured, then led us outside.
It was nearing twilight. The crash of waves issuing from the nearby ocean and the hiss of wind through the dune grasses created a mellow, peaceful soundtrack that I was all too happy to listen to. The scent of the sea and the cool fingers of the breeze relaxed me, and I found my nervousness slowly ebbing away as we proceeded to... where ever it was we were going.
Vergil and I made out way down the path to the ocean slowly; silent, though not uncomfortable in the absence of conversation. The trail wound its way through tall sea grasses, meandering aimlessly. White wooden arches were set over the path at regular intervals, marking the way.
We rounded the last bend of the path after about a minute, at last coming into full view of the ocean. Vergil did not allow me the luxury of a pause in order to observe the striking sunset over the waves, but instead cut a sharp right at the end of the path. I did not pay any attention to where we were going from there; my eyes were fixated on the glittering sea.
I was jerked out of my reverie moments later when Vergil stopped walking. I tore my eyes away from the sunlit spectacle to give him a quizzical look.
"We're here," he said shortly, voice carrying slightly over the wind. The sun behind me lit up his face and hair, causing his features to glow in the evanescent light. His eyes had never been more blue, his features never more radiant; his beauty far outstripped the water's.
My eyes wandered over the contours of his face for a moment, but I did not meet his eyes. We stood for a moment in silence, looking at each other.
Then, without a word, he made a sweeping gesture with his arm, indicating the dunes behind him. His platinum hair shifted gently at the nape of his neck, and his eyes flashed in the light of the dying sun a blue so intense I had to stop for a moment and simply revel in them.
It took me a minute, but eventually I was able to force the thoughts of those blue eyes away from the more immediate reaches of my mind and focus in on the sight behind him. My breath caught in my throat as I beheld what he had obviously spent hours preparing.
A large white gazebo, made of lacquered wood and constructed with gracefully flowing arches and spires, stood serenely amid the sand and plant life, glowing with candle light like a small, soft sun. A multitude of white candles had been melted onto the gazebo railing at uneven, dripping heights, glowing elegantly in the light of the dying sun. Small sections of wood were exposed at odd intervals, and the musky smelling wax bubbled and sluiced over itself as the candles were heated by the flame, dripping down to pool on the wooden platform beneath the rail. Their light cast gentle glow over everything, leaving nothing in the gazebo in shadow or darkness.
A table covered with a white cloth had been set up in the center of the gazebo, and on it a carafe of what looked to be champagne had been interred in a silver cooling bucket along with chips of smoking ice.
The table had been set with an elegant place setting for two, as well as platters of fruits and breads and pastries. Two wrought iron chairs with white cushions were placed on opposite sides of the table; their clawed feet rested on the bare wooden planks of the gazebo floor that had been polished to a high, lustrous sheen.
"I thought we would eat light," I heard Vergil say softly. I looked back up at him, eyes still wide from the shock of the elegant setting before us. His demeanor was solemn as our gazes met.
I nodded at his words, butterflies returning with a vengeance to flutter their whispering wings in the pit of my stomach. I was glad for his choice of menu; what with my nerves, I doubt if I could have stomached anything substantial.
No words were spoken as he led me up the two steps the gazebo was mounted upon; no words were spoken as he pulled out my chair for me and helped me into my seat. The silence was broken only after he had seated himself across from me.
"This is beautiful," I said with a smile. Vergil's eyes only glimmered in response.
"Really," I continued, put off by his silence. "It really is."
Vergil smiled slowly.
"I'm glad you like it," he said, voice low. "I wanted it to be perfect." His smile widened slightly, and then he asked: "Did I manage that?"
"Oh yeah," I nodded. "Perfection and then some." I shifted in my seat, looking around. "No wonder you were gone all day."
Vergil didn't answer. He merely rose from his chair and lifted the bottle of champagne from the silver bucket and poured himself a glass, then filled mine as well.
He handed my champagne flute to me after he finished pouring, and I laughed internally at seeing such a tiny, fragile glass being held so delicately between his large masculine fingers.
"Is this alcoholic?" I asked with mock surprise. Vergil nodded and said:
"It is, though only slightly."
"You've never let me drink before," I teased. "Why the sudden change?" Vergil did not answer, simply looked away and raised his glass to his lips. He did not drink, however.
I waited for an answer for a long moment, then upon seeing that I was most likely not going to get one, took a sip from my glass.
The light, bubbly drink flitted down my throat like a living thing, reminding me of edible butterflies. It had a lovely taste.
"It's good," I said as I put the flute down. Vergil chuckled at that.
"Only the best…" He trailed off, looking at me for a long moment. I blushed, and to cover it I helped myself to a bundle of grapes lying delicately on a silver platter. I gently squeezed one of the fruits off of the stem and popped it into my mouth. When I bit down it all but exploded, sending the sweet nectar of the grape washing throughout my mouth.
I chewed, swallowed, then had another. Vergil was still staring.
"We have a lot to talk about, Jira," he said quietly. I stuffed another grape into my mouth as I felt my blush burn brighter.
"L-like what?" I asked, staring down at my hands. I heard Vergil shift across from me.
"Tomorrow—is your birthday." His words were spoken quickly, rushed.
Is he nervous? I asked myself, not wanting to believe it. Vergil nevergets nervous…
"And?" I asked.
"Well…" he began. "You need to know what to expect."
"Start talking, then." I picked up my champagne flute and sipped, still refusing to meet his eyes.
This obviously annoyed him, as his next words were:
"Jira—look at me."
I accidentally took a large gulp of my drink. I spluttered slightly, the fizz wreaking havoc on my sinuses, and managed to choke out the words:
"That's—easier said than done, Verge."
"Jira, I'm serious." His tone was patient and it drove me nuts. My rebellious side stirred.
"So am I."
"Jira, don't be difficult—"
"You think I'm being DIFFICULT!?" I said loudly, finally looking at him. His eyes went from patronizing to concerned to shocked in an instant.
"Well—" he began. I cut him off.
"You're INTIMIDATING, Vergil!" I brought up my right elbow and slammed it down on the table, then pillowed my forehead in my palm. "It's just so hard to cope—"
I sighed in frustration and looked up at him again. His face was incredulous.
"Intimidating?" he asked. I bristled and was promptly struck dumb with sudden understanding.
"You really have no idea, do you?!" My jaw dropped. "You really have no idea that you--"
I shook my head, then laughed loudly. There was no humour in it.
"You're so perfect!" I said. "And that makes me feel inadequate, Vergil. Everyday, it's: 'What will I do to piss Vergil off today, hm?'"
I ran my hands violently through my hair, teeth grit.
"I just…" I began. "I want to please you— but I don't know how!" My voice began to rise steadily as I continued:
"THEN I remember that the only reason you even lower yourself to TALK to me is because some really sadistic, irony-loving god decided to MAKE you care for me!"
"And that's such a blow, Vergil—because I like YOU without having to be dictated to care about you, and—"
I stopped short at the last remark, face flushing. Vergil looked stunned.
Dammit dammit DAMMIT—I thought frantically—PLEASE do not pick up on that,
Vergil, PLEASE—
"You… like me?" He asked. His cobalt eyes held a mix of confusion, question—and elation. Inside, I crumpled. I was exposed at last.
"No use denying it now," I muttered. I leaned my head back and stared at the gazebo's support beams. I took a deep breath, then rocked my head forward again to look directly at him.
"Yeah, Verge, I like you--" I said, voice clear and steady. "—and so what?"
He sat perfectly still for a long moment, the only movement coming from the breeze toying with his white hair.
"You've just--" He took a breath, then said: "You've never said it before." I bristled again.
"You think it's EASY for me to say?" I hissed. "At least YOU'VE got an excuse to admit any kind of feeling for me; YOU'VE got that blood tie to back you up--" I stopped suddenly, seeing the sudden change that had come over Vergil.
His eyes were no longer confused; they were brimming with controlled rage.
"Are you suggesting--" His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it chilled me to the bone. "—that I have it EASY? That MY role in this relationship is any less stressful than YOURS?"
Vergil rose from his chair, palms pressed flat against the table-top.
"Let me tell you something, Jira— everyday I worry." His eyes narrowed slightly and his fists clenched. "I worry about alienating you, about being too cold—which by nature I am—but I worry most of all—" He took a deep, shuddering breath, then looked me straight in the eye. "—about LOSING you. If I say the wrong thing I am afraid you'll hate me—and then leave. I couldn't take that, Jira. This blood tie, it—"
"There you go again!" I growled, throwing my hands up into the air. "Blaming it all on the tie! Why can't you just admit to whatever it is you're feeling and NOT use the tie as an excuse!?"
Suddenly, the rage left Vergil's eyes. He slowly lowered himself back into his seat, fists gradually unclenching. His eyes held a look of realization.
"This…" he began. His voice grew in strength as he spoke. "This is my fault. I've never explained to you how the blood tie fully works, have I?"
The question had been asked more of Vergil than of me, so I did not answer.
"The blood tie…" he began again. "The tie simply bound me to you – it did NOT dictate what kind of feelings I would harbor for you."
"I don't understand," I said slowly. "When you first told me about it, you said that it—"
"Forget what I said then." He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I was trying to simplify it; soften the blow of the great unknown. Forgive me, Jira, for I did not realize what my over-simplification would do."
"I still don't understand." I said sullenly.
"Of course you don't—but you will, later." He brought his elbows up, placed them on the table and laced his fingers together. "For now, however, let me explain…"
"The blood tie was not created to produce 'soul mates.' It was not mean to produce a pair of emotionally bound beings. Forgive me, Jira, for I was not clear on this earlier. If I had been, we would both be much happier people."
He took a deep breath and continued:
"To understand the blood tie's nature, you must understand the nature of a demon: Demons do not 'like'—nor do they love. Loving something—to put one person over yourself, to be completely devoted to them in every way, to truly LOVE something—that is something only humans, for whatever reason, are capable of."
Vergil's eyes intensified as he spoke, then calmed.
"But back to demons: the only emotions demons are capable of are hate, bloodlust, anger, despair, or fear and the like. Some higher-level demons are capable of feeling respect—even devotion—but none can feel something so selfless as love."
He hesitated a moment, took a drink of his champagne, then spoke again:
"This creates… problems, however. A being who can never like something—I will even go so far as to say lust after something, though there are several species of higher demons who ARE capable— will never stay with one individual long enough to reproduce."
"That is the root of it all: reproduction. The blood tie was a means for one demon to become attached to another and bear children. If it did not exist, the demons would die out. That is it. That is all. Demons cannot feel emotion: therefore, the blood tie has NOTHING to do with emotion!"
"Can't you understand that, Jira?!" Vergil said loudly, hands slamming down onto the table. The dishes rattled and clinked against one another. "My feelings for you are NOT dictated! They are just as hard for me to bear as yours are for you!" His eyes seemed to glow in the candlelight, almost feral in their ferocity.
I sat still for many long moments after Vergil quieted, trying to take it all in. Then a question came to mind.
"Vergil?" I asked. He looked at me evenly and gestured for me to continue.
"You said that demons can't love--" I said slowly. "—but in the book you wrote—the one about your farther, Sparda—you said that he fell in love with a human woman." I took a deep breath, then asked: "If demons can't love, then how did Sparda…?" I trailed off. Vergil sighed.
"My father…" he breathed. "Was a demon unlike any other. He had powers unknown to the rest of the demonic race; powers that had never been seen before." Vergil's eyes were troubled, yet clear.
"One of those was the ability to love."
I digested this, embarrassed as I felt something akin to relief wash over me. I then asked worriedly:
"And you're able to too, right?" I asked, concern colouring my tone. I blushed, embarrassed to find myself hanging on his answer, then finished with: "Since you're a half-human…"
"Half-demon," Vergil corrected me sharply. I winced at his tone. "Being 'half-human' indicates being less than a man."
We sat in silence for a moment. Vergil took a sip of his champagne.
"You never answered my question." I whispered, staring down at the hands clenched in my lap. I heard the slight 'clink' of a glass being set down, a sigh, and then:
"Yes, Jira… I am capable of love."
AUTHOR TIME
I'll bet you are all rallying to have me lynched for giving you so long a wait for this chapter, huh?
Not to make excuses or anything (Goes on and makes excuses anyway) but I am so stupid! I deleted the completed chapter and had to REWRITE it from scratch. I just felt so hopeless; it was so HARD to write! I really liked the first draft a lot, so suffice to say I am not too fond of this one. But it got the job done, thats all I can say.
And I realize now that the way the Blood Tie works has gotten… muddled.
Just know that not all info has been revealed to Jira yet. What Vergil was trying to get across by that little rant of his was that the Blood Tie does NOT have anything to do with feeling. That was the root of it all. His feelings for Jira, whatever they may be, are his own. Vergil was trying to make a POINT, not explain everything in full detail. He left out some stuff. Paraphrased some more. Changed it to suit his needs. Tricky bastard (growl). Tricky tricky tricky…
ANNOUNCEMENT!!!! Did you notice anything BETTER about this chapter? Well, if you did, it's because Vir M. now has a BETA!!!!!!! She is the oh-so-lovely "J," who does not have an account on FFnet. But please, shower her with praises and cookies in your reviews! She totally rocks; she's patient and kind and tolerates my inconsistent chapter production and frayed logic. What more could I ask for?
ANOTHER ANNOUNCEMENT: I have received permission from Dr. Merlin to create a Mary Sue Litmus Test for the DMC fandom. Don't know what that is? Take a peek at my profile and click on the link!
I am going to need the help of some of you DMC OC authors though.
I NEED NEED NEED you guys to help me by letting me run your OCs through the test! I NEED you to lend me them for a time! You and your OCs are NEEDED by VirM.! PLEASE HELP VIRM. OUT!!!!
If you are interested in beta-testing my test using one of your Devil May Cry original characters, please contact me via EMAIL. EMAIL. EMAIL. Not private message or review, but EMAIL. I might contact several of you myself, PERSONALLY, (I doubt I'll ever get around to it though since I'm so damn lazy)but if I do not and you still wish to help me out by letting me run your OC through the system I would be SO grateful.
Remember: EMAIL ME for the DETAILS!!!!
And the results are completely unrefined. Dont spork me to death if your OC gets a score of "Ultra-Sue." I havent perfected the scoring system yet (which is where you come in).
Without your help, the test will never see the light of day! VIRM. WANTS YOU! strikes the "Uncle Sam" pose Anyway, EMAIL me if youd like to be a beta tester of my
ADevil May Cry Specific Mary Sue Litmus Test!
I hope to hear from you!
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DEVIL MAY CRY © CAPCOM
BY BLOOD CONNECTED © VIRM.